EPILOGUE OLIVIA Three Months LaterI close my laptop with a sigh. It’s five o’clock on the dot. Normally, I might be tempted to work overtime, but not today. My Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings are reserved for visiting Dad. My younger sister, Rachel, visits him on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, since her classes end early on those days, and she often spends weekends with him too.
Dad’s health has declined steadily ever since he fell the night of Tate & Cane’s gala. Our Hail Mary pass, the night that saved our company, also spelled the beginning of his end. Three months ago, Dad was given only one more month to live. His doctors aren’t really sure how he exceeded that prognosis by such a huge margin—although Dad himself always says, “It’s because my two wonderful daughters visit so
