"Say it again. Please?"

It had been so long since Kent Butler had called me Mom.

But before he could say it again, Neil covered his mouth and corrected him gently.

"Kent, you can't call her that. Miss Lucy hasn't agreed to marry Daddy yet."

"She's not your mom right now."

Those words hit me like ice water. Reality snapped back into focus.

Right now, I was "Lucy Simmons."

Even Neil hadn't noticed anything was off.

How could a child possibly know that I was his real mother?

My nose stung without warning.

I lowered my head and tried once more to explain.

"The truth is, I really am Kent's mo—"

Neil misunderstood. He seized my hand, eyes bright with excitement.

"So you're saying yes? You'll marry me?"

I froze, about to shake my head.

But Kent threw his arms around me first.

"Yay! Does that mean Miss Lucy is gonna be my mom now?"

I looked at the joy shining in both their faces.

The truth sitting on the tip of my tongue dissolved into nothing.

In the three full years since my death, this was the first time the two of them had been this happy.

They truly loved Lucy.

As for me...

A woman who'd been dead for three years, no matter how unwilling, how could she take away the happiness they wanted?

My eyes burned. I turned my face away before they could see and nodded.

"Okay."

I didn't know when I would disappear.

Since the only person they wanted to see was Lucy,

then I would give them exactly that.

When they heard my answer, father and son threw their arms around me at the same time.

Neil's voice cracked again.

"Lucy, thank you..."

"Thank you for forgiving me. And thank you for being willing to be Kent's mom."

Kent was still so little. All he knew was to burrow deeper into my arms, echoing his father's thank-yous.

I caught their scent, and the world tilted.

After all these years, they still smelled like gardenia.

It used to be my favorite scent.

I'd always bought that same gardenia detergent to wash their clothes.

Kent would cling to my legs whenever I hung the laundry out to dry, nuzzling against me:

"Mommy smells so good! So, so good!"

And Neil would always tell me:

"Every time I catch that gardenia on you, it makes me feel like everything's going to be all right."

It was a scent that belonged to the three of us alone.

Now they carried that same scent while holding another woman's body.

The revulsion rose in me, sharp and wordless.

I pushed them away and held my breath.