"Hey, Rock," she mumbles over her shoulder, then gets to cutting. The dog continues to bump his snout against her calves, and Frank's too, when he steps in beside her.

Once her eyes are stinging, she glances at Frank to find his are glassy. Jess suppresses a smile and switches to slicing lengthwise, dicing the onion into squares roughly the size of the meat they'll be slotted between. After a long, hard blink, a tear rolls down her far cheek, to be wiped off on her shoulder. "I forgot I wasn't immune to onions."