Brooke nodded gratefully but braced herself because she had a very bad feeling. “Who’s dead?”

  Mindy choked on a low laugh and swiped beneath her eyes, succeeding only in making things worse. “No one’s dead. Unless you count my personal life.”

  This made no sense. Mindy had been born with a plan in hand. At any given moment of any day, she could flip open her fancy notebook and tell you exactly where she was in that plan. “You’ve got something in your hair.” Brooke gingerly picked it out. It was a Cheerio.

  “It’s Maddox’s. He was chucking them in the car.” Mindy’s eyes were misting again. “You don’t know how lucky you are that you don’t have kids!”

  It used to be, a sentence like that would send a hot poker of fire through Brooke’s chest, but now it was more like a dull ache. Mostly. She took a step back and crossed her arms. “Why are you falling apart? You never fall apart.” And why are you coming to me?

  Mindy shook her head. “Meet the new me. Remember when we were little and poor because Dad had put all his money into the first POP Smoothie shop and everyone called us the Lemon Sisters?”

  “We are the Lemon sisters,” Brooke said.

  “Yes, but they made it a play on words, like we were lemons. As in bad lemons. As in worthless. I’m a bad Lemon!”

  “First of all, you were the one who told me back then to ignore it because we weren’t worthless,” Brooke said, “so I’ll tell you now—we’re still not. And second, you’ve got a great life, a life you planned out in great detail, I might add. You married a doctor. You now run and manage the Wildstone POP Smoothie shop. You bake like no other. People flock to the shop on the days you bring in your fresh stuff to sell alongside the smoothies. You’ve got three kids. You live in a house with a real white picket fence, for God’s sake.”

  Mindy sniffed. “I know! And I get that on paper it looks like I’m the together sister, but I’m not!”

  That shouldn’t hurt, but it did. Mindy didn’t have the first clue about Brooke’s life these days. Which was another problem entirely. “Min, what’s really going on here? We don’t do this, we’re not . . . close.”

  “Well, whose fault is that?” Mindy’s eyes filled. “I burnt the school cupcakes and the firefighters had to come, and now the whole block knows I’m losing my shit. Dad wants to sell off some of the POP Smoothie shops, including the Wildstone one, so he can retire—”she put retire in air quotes, because the man was already pretty much hands off the business—“which puts me out of work. Linc says I should buy it, and I love that store, you know how much I love working that store, but I can’t so much as potty train Maddox, even though he’s thirty-two-point-five months old.” She drew in a shuddery breath. “And I think Linc’s having an affair with Brittney, our nanny.”

  Whoa. Brooke stopped trying to do the math to figure out how old thirty-two-point-five months was in years and stared at her sister. “What?”

  “Look, I know you hate me, but when it all started to fall apart in the car on the way home from Mom and Dad’s in Palm Springs, I looked you up. Google Maps said you were right on the way home to Wildstone.”

  Palm Springs was six hours south of Wildstone, and two hours from Los Angeles, which wasn’t exactly on the route home, but a definite detour. “I don’t hate you,” Brooke said. Much. “But do you really think your husband, cutie pie Dr. Linc Tenant, the guy you’ve been in love with since the second grade and who worships the ground you walk on is having an affair with the nanny? And since when do you have a nanny?”

  “Since I went back to work at the shop right after Maddox was born.” Mindy sighed. “She’s only part-time, but yes, I really think he’s cheating on me. Which means I’m going to be single soon. Oh my God, I can’t go back to being single! I mean how do you know which way to swipe, left or right?”

  “Okay first off . . . breathe.” Brooke waited until Mindy gulped in air. “Good. Second, why do you think Linc’s having an affair?”

  “Because Cosmo says that married couples our age are supposed to have sex two to three times a week, and we don’t. I’m not sure we managed to have sex this whole month!” She tossed up her hands. “It used to be every day. Every day, Brooke, and we used to role play too, like sexy bad cop and sassy perp, or naughty nurse and—”

  Brooke covered her ears. “Oh my God. Please stop talking.”

  “We have a chest full of costumes and props that we never even use anymore.”

  “Seriously,” Brooke said on a heartfelt grimace. “I can still hear you.”

  “I just miss it. I mean I really miss it. I need a man-made orgasm or I’m going to have to buy more batteries.”

  “Okay, I get it, you miss sex! Jeez! Let’s move on! So you’ve got the problems with Linc, the nanny, and your, uh, lack of new batteries . . . but instead of fixing any of these problems, you, what, ran away from Wildstone six hours south to Mom and Dad’s in Palm Springs?”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. And now Mom thinks Millie needs therapy because she’ll only answer to Princess Millie, and that Maddox should be talking more than barking. And Dad says Mason shouldn’t wear pink shirts—but it was salmon not pink. He picks out his own clothes and dresses himself, and I don’t want to squash that. Also, Dad thinks that my ass is getting fat.”

  “Dad did not say that,” Brooke said. The man was a quiet, thoughtful introvert. He might think it, but he’d never say it.

  “No, he didn’t,” Mindy admitted. “But it’s true and that’s probably why Linc won’t sleep with me!” She started crying again.

  “Momma.”

  At the little kid voice, Brooke and Mindy both froze and turned. In the doorway stood Mindy’s Mini-Me, eight-year-old Millie, outfitted in a yellow dress with black elephants and giraffes on it. Her hair was held off her face by a headband that matched the dress. But it was her eyes that got to Brooke. They were the same jade green as Mindy’s. And her own, she supposed. “Millie,” Brooke said. “Wow, you’re all grown up.”

  “Hi, Aunt Brooke,” Millie said politely before turning back to her mom. “Momma, Mad Dog peed on Mason again.” She held up her hands like a surgeon waiting to have her gloves put on. She ran the pads of her thumbs across the tips of her fingers four times in a row. “I’ve got to wash my hands. Can I wash my hands?”

  “Down the hall,” Brooke said, heart tugging for the kid. “First door on the right’s the bathroom.”

  Millie ran down the hall. They heard the bathroom door shut and then the lock clicked into place. And out of place. And back into place. Four times.

  Brooke’s heart pinched. Maybe Millie was more Brooke’s Mini-Me than Mindy’s . . . She didn’t know much about kids, and she was certainly in no position to tell her sister how to live her life, but things did seem out of control—something Mindy had never been a day in her life.

  Her sister’s car was parked in the short driveway in front of the condo, the doors open. Two little boys were rolling around on the grass. One was naked.

  Mindy was staring at them like one might stare at an impending train wreck.

  “Yours, I presume,” Brooke said.

  “Yeah. Want one?”

  She ignored the way her heart took a good, hard leap. “Tell me about Linc.”

  Mindy sighed. “I keep up the house, work at the shop thirty hours a week, and handle all the kid and life stuff. I’m the heavy. The bad cop. And I get that Linc and his brother Ethan had to take over their dad’s medical practice when he had a stroke, but that wasn’t in our life plan. And Ethan’s having some sort of mid-life crisis and taking time off, which leaves Linc working seventy hours a week. When he finally walks in after a long day, I’m invisible. The kids always love the good cop. I want to be the good cop.”

  “So be the good cop,” Brooke said.

  “I can’t be the good cop. I’ve tried. I’m too anal.” Mindy lowered her voice to a whisper. “I want to be you, Brooke. You get to bounce all over the planet, living out wild adventure after wild adventure, and you get paid to do it. No wonder you never come home.”

  It wasn’t adventure that kept her away from Wildstone. Shame, maybe. Okay, definitely. And regrets. Lots of regrets. Still, she stared into her sister’s red-rimmed, despairing gaze. She knew despair. She knew it to the depths of her soul, and some of the pent-up resentment she’d been holding for Mindy and her very perfect life shifted slightly. Not fade away, not exactly, more like it just moved over to make room for a teeny tiny amount of compassion and empathy. “Go into the kitchen and pour yourself a glass of wine,” she said. “I’ve got the kids for now.”

  “You do?” Mindy asked with clear disbelief.

  “Yeah.” If there was one thing Brooke had down, it was the ability to bullshit her way through any situation. She’d summited the roof of Africa—Kilimanjaro. She’d been one of the few to get to and photograph the limestone formations of the Stone Forest in China. She’d gone swimming with giants—migrating humpback whales—along the waters of Ningaloo Reef in Australia. Certainly, she could handle her sister and her kids. She waited until Mindy vanished inside before calling out to the boys wrestling in the grass. “Hey.”

  Neither of them looked at her.

  She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Loudly. All destruction and mayhem stopped on a dime and two sets of eyeballs turned her way. “Inside,” she said. “Everyone to the couch.”

  The boys met up with the freshly washed-up Millie in the living room and they all sat, even the naked one. Brooke winced, but let it go as she opened her laptop and scrolled her way to a Disney flick to stream. They were rated by viewer age, which was helpful. “Okay, so you’re almost three,” she said, pointing to the nudie-patootie Maddox. “And just four, right?” she asked the one with clothes, which meant he was Mason. He nodded, and she turned to the oldest. “Millie?”

  Millie didn’t answer.

  She looked at Mason.

  “She’s almost eight,” he said.

  Brooke looked at Millie. “Is this movie okay?”

  Millie didn’t answer this question either.

  “You have to call her Princess Millie,” Mason said. His knee was bloody. “She only answers to Princess Millie.”

  “Right.” Brooke sent a glance toward the kitchen, but nothing from Mindy. She’d either made a run for it through the garage, or she was hiding out, drinking her wine in peace. Brooke went to her backpack, pulled out the first aid kit she always carried with her, and grabbed the antiseptic.

  Mason covered his knee. “Only need a Band-Aid.”

  While she could appreciate the sentiment more than he could know, the cut was dirty. She doctored him up and looked at Millie. “Back to the movie. The Lion King or no?”

  Millie shook her head. “The dad dies and it makes Mad Dog cry.”

  “Me too,” Brooke said and scrolled to Toy Story 3.

  “That one makes all of us cry,” Millie said. “And you can’t play Frozen either. Mason will sing it for three straight days until Momma says she needs a pill.”

  They finally settled on Cars 3. Brooke brought Maddox his clothes—“Don’t forget a diaper!” Millie said. “Or we’ll all be sorry.”

  Right. A diaper. Brooke helped the kid into everything. She then tented a big soft blanket over the back of the couch to the coffee table, pinning it in place with several heavy books, one of which was filled with her own photography. From the old days, back when she was actually having the adventures Mindy clearly thought she was still having.

  “A fort!” Mason yelled enthusiastically.

  Maddox barked with equal enthusiasm, flashing a smile and a devastatingly adorable dimple while he was at it.

  “Aunt Brooke is the best,” Brooke heard Millie whisper to her brothers.

  She felt herself smile with pride and also a sense of warmth and affection that had been all too rare in her world lately. But along with the goodness came something else. A sense of dread. Because blood or not, family or not, this couldn’t happen. She couldn’t fall for Mindy’s kids, no matter how much she wanted to.

  “Mad Dog!” Millie cried out, voice muffled like maybe she was holding her hand over her mouth. “You pooped!”

  This was followed by a giggle. Mad Dog, presumably. Thank God for diapers.

  “You’re supposed to do that in the bathroom!” Millie yelled. “Mom said!” And then she yanked the blanket down around them to dramatically gasp in some fresh air.

  Mason and Maddox were rolling with helpless laughter.

  “Boys are disgusting,” Millie announced.

  Brooke shrugged. “You might think differently in a few years.”

  “No way.” She jabbed a finger at Maddox. “He needs changing. If you don’t do it right away, he gets a rash and screams bloody murder.”

  Brooke slid another look toward the kitchen. Still nothing from Mindy. So she scooped up Maddox, and then nearly staggered back from the stench coming out of this sweet, little boy.

  At the look on her face, he giggled again and drooled down her front.

  “You know what would be even funnier?” she asked, walking him out to Mindy’s car to find his diaper bag, and then changing him outside on her porch lounge so that she didn’t have to hazmat her place afterward. “If you used a toilet like a big boy and showed your siblings what you’re capable of.”

  He stared up at her, not committing to anything, but clearly considering.

  When she was done, she brought him inside and re-created the tent. Then she walked into the kitchen.

  No Mindy.

  Troublesome. Brooke filled a bowl with cut-up apples and a pile of almond butter for dip and thrust it into the tent.

  It was immediately accepted with squeals of delight.

  Proud of her aunting skills, she went in search of her sister. It was with great relief that she found her in Brooke’s bedroom, sprawled out on the bed with a bottle of wine.

  No glass.

  “You’re drinking in my bed,” Brooke said, trying not to hyperventilate.

  “Do you mind?”

  Her OCD sure did. “Um—”

  “Mom called,” Mindy murmured, staring off into space. “She told me that my husband and children are perfect.” She took a swig of wine. Clearly not her first. Or tenth. “Which means it’s me.”

  Brooke took the bottle and set it on the nightstand.

  Mindy flopped to her back on the mattress. “Oh my God, Brooke. This bed. It’s heaven.” She rolled around. “Your sheets are clean. You’ve got plants that haven’t been eaten. There’s no poop anywhere, it smells delicious.”

  “Okay, seriously.” Brooke sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re scaring me. Who are you and what did you do to my sister?”

  From the bathroom in the hallway, Mason called out an, “I finished!”

  Mindy sighed. “He doesn’t wipe efficiently and needs to be checked. As for what happened to me, I had babies.”

  Brooke didn’t flinch. Progress. “You still haven’t told me about Linc, other than he’s working long hours and is the good cop.”

  “I never see him. A few days ago, he left for a conference in Florida with some colleagues and he suggested I take the kids to Mom and Dad’s while he was gone. So I asked Brittney if she wanted to come with me, but she said she couldn’t. Then later that same day on her Instagram, she was on a beach.”

  “Okay,” Brooke said. “So . . . ?”

  “So what if she’s on a beach in Florida with my husband?”

  “Is someone going to come check me?” Mason yelled.

  Brooke stuck her head out the bedroom door. “Listen, kid, you’re going to need to hang on a second or handle the paperwork yourself.” She turned to Mindy. “Have you actually talked to Linc?”

  “No. He’s too busy. We’ve got a rule. When he’s traveling, we only check in via text once a day unless there’s an emergency. It’s because he’s so busy and when he doesn’t call me all the time, I tend to get murderous and want to kill him. Hence the rule.”

  Brooke loved Linc, and she got it, Mindy could be incredibly . . . needy, but thought the rule was pretty shitty. “Maybe you’re wrong about all of this. And anyway, what does this Brittney chick have what you don’t?”

  “Boobs that haven’t been ravaged by three babies, for one thing. And a waist. And I bet she doesn’t pee a little when she sneezes.”

  Brooke grimaced. “Stay on topic, Min. You’re the goal-oriented one here. What’s your goal?”

  Mindy stared at her blankly.

  “What do you need?” Brooke prompted.

  “Linc to say he can’t live without me. In lieu of that, I could use a day or two away from the merry-go-round ride before I fall off and can’t get up.”

  “Min, you need to tell Linc this, all of it.”

  “But I want him to just know.” Mindy reached for the wine and took another swig before squeezing out a few more tears.

  Brooke sighed. If there was one thing you could say about the Lemon sisters, it was that they were night and day. Oil and water. Oranges to apples. But here was the thing—night and day melded together twice every twenty-four hours, oil and water could be forced to work together with a good shake, and apples and orange were still both fruit. “What if I take the kids away for a few days,” she heard herself say. “You could stay here and relax.”

  “Where would you go? To Wildstone?”

  Hell no. To go to Wildstone, Brooke would have to not only face her past, but also the consequences of that past. “I was thinking Disneyland. I’ve got some free passes. Perks of the trade.”

  “You’d do that for me?” Mindy asked with so much hope it hurt.

  Damn, she’d really been a crappy sister. “Yes. Bedtime for you. We can make plans in the morning,” she said, hoping this whole meltdown thing wasn’t contagious. Once again wrestling the wine away from Mindy’s hot hands, she set the bottle on the dresser. Then she pulled off her sister’s sneakers and eyed the rest of Mindy’s clothes. “How comfortable are those yoga pants?”