I hoped that Grace would be a little bit of the best of all of us: Scarlett's spirit, and my mother's strength, Marion's determination, and Michael's sly humor. I wasn't sure what I could give, not just yet. But I would know when I told her about the comet, years from now, I would know. And I would lean close to her ear, saying the words no one else could hear, explaining it all. The language of solace and comets, and the girls we all become, in the end.

With love like that, you can't get pick about how it finds you or the details. All that matters is that it's there. Better late than never.

If things don't work out the way you want, hold your head up high and be proud. And try again. And again. And again!

Best Friends. And I thought of what she had done all the millions of times I cried to her, collapsing at even the slightest wounding of my heart or pride. So I reached over and pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her, and held my best friend close, returning so many favors all at once.

There was no way to take the story back, folding it neatly into the place I'd kept it all this time. No matter what else happened, from here on out, I would always remember Wes, because with this telling, he'd become part of that story, of my story, too.

How weird was it that so many bits and pieces, all diverse, could make something whole. Something with potential. 'Perfect.

I reached up with my finger and traced the scar over my eyebrow, remembering when that was the greatest hurt I'd ever known.