Billy and I were over. I knew that, and I accepted it. But somewhere in his mind, in the quiet moments of his days, he had thought of calling me. He didn't bristle at our every memory. It was as though he permitted me to think of him as well. And I remembered him fondly. Billy Collins was the best worst man that had ever entered my life. We made each other fall in love, knowing that we would fail. As honest as we were with each other, we always tried to convince ourselves that it'd work; maybe he'd stop being a rockstar, or I'd suddenly get out of my own way. But our careers were who we were. He was a rockstar, and I was the career woman I had always wanted to be. We had made it; we just hadn't made it together. Still, I loved my time with Billy, even the terrible times.

"We have plans on Sunday," Mary reminded me, as though we had been in the middle of a conversation instead of me just joining her in the kitchen on Friday morning.

"I know, but we've had many meals together, and I really should get back home to face my real life."

"Nonsense. You can face real life right here."

"Mary, I have to learn to live in Portland without my dad. I have to get used to every brick reminding me of him."

"Nothing reminds you of him here?" She always knew how to press.

The thoughts of my father were as present as much as the thoughts of Billy. I tried to live my life with few regrets, but one regret that had been circling me all week was never listening to Billy's music with my father. I'd never get to know his thoughts. My dad must have been very proud of every album. Billy's style was everything my father loved about music. I had taken some solace that they had remained in touch.

"Lily," Mary brought me back. "You can stay another week."

"Another week," I laughed. "You said Sunday dinner!"

"Well, you won't want to travel during the week. You'd have to miss work. You have Sunday dinner with Tim and the family. Work from here for another week, and you can fly home next weekend; if you must."

I had to laugh at her tenacity. She wouldn't let me out of dinner, and I had agreed to it.

"Fine. Hopefully, I'll manage to get something to eat; James seems to have his father's appetite."

"Oh, I know. It's a good thing Billy was successful. Otherwise, Tim and James would have sent me to the poorhouse years ago."

"Mary, I hope you know how much I appreciate you letting me stay with you. This was exactly what I needed."

She smiled. "I heard some familiar songs coming from your office."

I wasn't surprised that she knew, just like she wasn't surprised that I had finally listened to his work. "I'm officially a Billy Collins superfan. Do they have like foam fingers or anything?"

"We have buttons; I'll make sure you get one," she winked.

"Okay, I have to get to work."

I was happy. I put one of Billy's albums on low in the background as I got lost in my meetings and emails. Tess pulled me back with a ding just after my lunch meeting.

"Lunch and shopping tomorrow? We need girl time before you slip away from me again!"

"Definitely. Mary isn't letting me out of Sunday dinner, even though she must be sick of me now!" I shot back.

"Are you kidding? She may go full Misery on your ass; she loves houseguests, and she loves you!"

"Yikes, I like my ankles the way they are!"

"Then you better do as she says!" Tess shot back. "I'll pick you up tomorrow around 10 am! Oh, who am I kidding? I'll just come at 9 am with Tim. He's been jealous of all the Mary meals you've been eating.

I was excited to have plans with Tess, but when I told Mary, she almost burst. I knew what she was thinking. Her mind was whirling around ways to get me to stay longer.

"Mary, why do you want me to stay so long? You've got to be getting sick of me!" I laughed over dinner.

"Never. This has been wonderful. I love having life in this house."

"I'm sure that if I weren't here, you'd have friends coming and going. And Billy would probably stop by." He hadn't been over to see her since the first morning.

"He has been noticeably absent this week." I could see the cogs in her mind hatching a plan.

"Mary, let Billy and me be. We're both in a good place. Let's not rock the boat."

"Of course. And he has called me every day, just hasn't stopped by."

"Well, why don't you let him know I'm going out tomorrow with Tess so he can stop by and check in on you? I'm sure he worries."

"Oh, he does." Her smile faded, and her voice dropped low as she added, "have you told him about your father?"

"No, I don't think I should. I thought that maybe he'd take it better from you; maybe you could tell him if you see him tomorrow."

"He was very close to your father," she reminded.

"I like that they were friends. I regret not sharing Billy's music with my dad. I'm sure he loved it."

"Oh, he may have really been Billy's biggest fan and critic. Billy heavily valued his thoughts."

I sighed and felt the familiar welling of tears, but this time it wasn't for me losing my dad; it was for Billy losing him.

"I know he'd listen to you if you were to tell him. Your father would want it to come from you. And, I happen to know that Billy doesn't have the kids this weekend, which means he's probably just up in his studio fiddling away as he does."

She slid a sticky note with his address across the table to me. I stared down at it for a moment. My body recoiled a bit as though it might bite me.

"Fiddling, is that what they call what Billy does in the studio now?" I absently teased.

"Mmhmm, that number at the bottom is the gate code."

"Mary, are you trying to get me arrested?"

She let out a laugh. "Well, that'd be quite the story." She got up and began to clear the plates. "Oh, and Lily, Billy hasn't just been calling to check in on me this week."

The path to Billy's house felt familiar, even though it had been years. I expected my mind to slip to all the reasons I should turn around, but instead, all I could fixate on was how everything was the same, as though time had been frozen, just like I had been. The gravel and snow crunched beneath the tires of my rental car.

As Mary had suspected, the house was dark, but the studio light above the barn was glowing yellow, casting long ghostly shadows across the driveway. My mind slipped to those last moments here, in that studio: the anger and the sadness surrounded the place. I stifled it down and trudged towards the barndoor, once again with a wreath hanging above it.

The familiar buzz in my chest started up as I neared Billy. I had never asked him if he felt it; it always seemed too silly to ask. The piano greeted me before I got to the top of the stairs. After listening to his voice nearly every night for the past week, a melancholy feeling filled me when he didn't even murmur a lyric. I paused in the doorway, hoping he'd slip into one of his songs from the tinkering he was doing, but it was clear that his mind wasn't on music.

"Hello, Billy," my voice came softly, but his immediate stiffening let me know he heard me.

He didn't turn, but as his back straightened, his fingers stopped playing.

"I'm sorry to intrude," I apologetically offered.

"Then why intrude?" He still didn't turn to face me. The softening of his tone from our midnight meeting was gone.

"I have to talk to you."

"We've talked enough, don't you think?"

"Billy, I have to talk to you about...." I hadn't expected it; I had been doing so well. But telling Billy made it real again, made it forever.

"What, Lily? What do you need to talk to me about?" He turned to look at me for the first time, and under his gaze, I felt like a child. He softened when his eyes first laid on me, but he found his resolve quickly. "Why did you come back?"

"My father." My voice barely lasted.

My eyes dropped to the floor. If I watched the words hit Billy, I'd surely burst into tears.

"No," there was a mix of disbelief and anger in his voice. "No, Lily. I just talked to him a few weeks ago."

I couldn't lift my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"No," his voice was close and getting closer. But it wasn't the gentle soothing I expected. "No, Lily."

"Billy, I..." but I had nothing else to say.

"No," I felt his hands grab my shoulders. "No, Lily. You can't take him from me too."

"I didn't take him. I'm sorry."

"No," the anger surged through him and into me in a chilling vibration. "You're wrong. I'll call him."

He dropped his grip on me and paced to his desk, shoving things around as he searched for his phone.

"He won't answer, Billy."

"Fuck," with one swipe, he cleared everything off his desk. It scattered to the floor. "Fuck."

"I'm sorry, Billy. I'm so sorry." I still couldn't look at him, but I felt my legs give out as I dropped to the floor.

"No, I don't believe you," he argued. Quickly, he lifted the desk and toppled it to its side.

"It's how I knew the albums weren't from him. Because he..."

"No. Stop, Lily. Just stop."

"I needed to come here. I needed help to..." I let my voice drop out. "Mary knew I needed someone."

"That's my mom. She's mine."

"I know." I finally lifted my eyes to Billy. My tears obscured him. "But I needed her because my dad died."

He stared at me as the words floated through him. In a matter of moments, his anger melted to disbelief, then despair, before he pooled to the floor next to me, exhausted. We just sat there on the floor in silence. A few tears slipped from my eyes, rolling leisurely down my cheeks and dropping to my coat with a muted splash. When the silence grew too heavy in my ears, I got up and began picking up the clutter scattered across the floor.

"You don't have to...." Billy said from his spot on the floor.

"It's fine. I make a lot of messes. I should start to clean up a few."

I didn't focus on what I was picking up. I just grabbed whatever was closest: papers, pens, random desk things. But when I registered what I was picking up, I realized I was holding the kalimba. I let my thumb pluck one tine.

I didn't hear Billy raise, but he was behind me, his arms looping around either side of me as he took the instrument but kept it in front of me. He plucked out the first few notes of Mister Sandman.

"It's the one from Boston. Every time I toss it around, it never breaks." He was surrounding me, so his deep voice rippled through my body. "Look at me, Lil."

I turned to face him. He stood tall without the rounded shoulders to pull him close to me.

"Your father was a good man. I counted him as one of my closest friends. Regardless of everything that has happened between us, I'm truly sorry for your loss." It was cordial and stabbed into me, but still was more than I deserved from Billy.

The tears welled in my eyes. It was real. My dad was gone. Billy's words lowered my father deeper into his grave.

"I..." I had no words. In Billy's eyes, it was clear how broken I was. The man who had fallen so deeply in love with me now was a stranger giving me generic consolations on losing my father. Without Billy, without my dad, there was no me.

"I'll call Tim." He dropped his arms and moved away from me.

It wasn't what I expected. Billy kicked through the debris on the floor until he found his phone.

"Hey man, you and Tess free?" Billy's voice was low and somber. "Yeah, I'll see you in a few."

He didn't even look at me. He just headed downstairs. I followed him across the driveway and to the steps of his house. I paused as the memories of the home filled me. They had been happy memories, but I had tarnished them. Billy didn't hesitate; he wasn't giving me any choice.