“Bless you.”

  “Also, you’re choking me.”

  Grinning sheepishly, I let go of her, shrug off my coat, and dump it and my bag in the empty chair next to me. Then I drop down and try to catch my breath. It was a mad dash to get to the restaurant on time. Well, almost on time. Punctuality has never been my strong suit.

  “You look like you’ve just rolled out of bed,” Celine remarks.

  I wince and immediately reach up to pat down my hair. When my fingers get caught in the knots at the back of my head, I pull off my ponytail and start from scratch.

  “That would be because I did just roll out of bed,” I admit.

  Celine glances at the elegant blush wristwatch on her hand. “It’s 10:30, Tay.”

  “Yes, yes, spare me the lecture. I pulled a double shift at the restaurant last night, and then I headed straight to the library for a study session that ended at two in the morning. Slept right through my alarm.”

  Celine purses up her lips. “I walked by your new apartment building yesterday.”

  I cringe inwardly. I can already tell where this is headed. “Oh?”

  “You couldn’t find a better place?”

  “It wasn’t like I had a lot of time to look for a place, and I couldn’t stay on Tiffany’s couch forever. It’s just temporary anyway. Until I save up enough to afford something a little better.”

  “That explains the double shift.”

  I curse myself internally for sleeping through that stupid alarm. I wanted to show up confident and breezy, looking like a competent adult for once in my life. Instead, I’d thrown on the clothes I’d been wearing the night before in my haste to get out the door. My mouth still tastes like sleep scum—gross, I know.

  The waitress appears with our drinks and reads out the specials. My stomach roils when she mentions the crab benedict with hollandaise sauce. It’s a splurge for me, considering the one plate will run me twenty-two dollars, but I haven’t eaten since yesterday morning. They could serve me Flounder from Little Mermaid and I’d gorge myself on that cute little fella.

  “You know, there’s a perfectly decent spare room at home,” Celine points out when the waitress walks away. “And it’s rent-free.”

  I sigh. “Can we not, Cee? I haven’t even eaten yet.”

  “You’re being stubborn.”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am. In case you missed it in the twenty years I’ve been your sister, I am stubborn.” I sip my iced tea and give her a cheeky grin.

  Celine shakes her head. She’s frustrated, of course, but I know her well enough to see how she’s biting down a wry smile. It’s how we are—she does the right thing all the time, I do the wrong thing all the time, and we both look at the other one like, What were you thinking?

  It’s funny—we’re only separated by two years, but you wouldn’t believe it if you really looked at us. She’s an “old soul,” as they say, which I always used to mentally substitute for “boringly responsible.” Less so now, though. I’m starting to admire her willingness to simply take what life gives her and not ask for more. Kinda jealous of it, really.

  Even now, she’s sitting across from me in luxe black leggings and a white linen button-down just loose enough to be chic and stylish. When I wear oversized clothes, I look like I ransacked Dad’s closet.

  “Things didn’t go great when you left,” she says.

  I groan and bury my face in my hands. As if I needed that reminder.

  “Celine,” I protest, “for the length of one breakfast, if nothing else, I’m begging you to—”

  “Dad was just hurt that you left in the middle of the night.”

  “I left a note!”

  “You should have stayed and spoken with him. Face to face.”

  I sigh and look up at her through my parted fingers. “We don’t communicate well. You know that. I try to talk to him, but he just ends up yelling at me.” She snorts quietly into her lemonade, and I raise my eyebrows. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

  She shrugs. “Well, it’s just that he says the same thing about you.”

  I roll my eyes. “Of course he does.”

  “Maybe it’s fair to say that you’re both at fault here?” she suggests gently.

  I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest. We’re treading on old, familiar territory here. Reading back lines we’ve read a million times before.

  Just listen to him!

  Why can’t he listen to me?

  Aaand, scene. Repeat ‘til you puke.

  “Are those real pearls?” I quickly change the subject, admiring the way the teardrop earrings compliment her pristine white shirt.

  “Tay!”

  “Guess not.”

  She sighs, but I notice that she gets a little fidgety. I frown. My sister is the picture of Zen calm ninety-nine percent of the time. She only starts to get the itchy-butt face (yes, I did come up with that name when I was six years old, and yes, it does perfectly capture her lowkey anxiety) when she’s holding back a secret she really wants to let out.

  “They were a… gift.”

  “Wait, so they are real? Hold on. Who’s the guy?”

  “Nuh-uh.” Celine shakes her head. “We’re talking about Dad right now.”

  I groan. “Please don’t make me.”

  “He loves you. He misses you. He’s miserable without you.”

  “Oh, come on,” I scoff. “You still live at home.”

  “Yes, but I’m not the favorite daughter.”

  That one almost makes me spit out my tea. “Excuse you. I am not the favorite.”

  Now, it’s Celine’s turn to roll her eyes. “Oh, for crying out loud, Tay. Stop acting clueless. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “He loves us both equally. They both do.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. Everybody loves everybody and our family is perfectly peachy.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “Fine. We’ll table it for now.” She folds her hands in front of her and leans forward. “Either way, I just want you to talk to Dad. And I mean, really talk to him. No yelling.”

  “I don’t yell until he does. And if I move back in, there’s definitely going to be yelling.”

  “I’m not asking you to move back in. But the least you can do is come over to the house.”

  “The last time I came over, he yelled at me and called me a ‘selfish brat.’ Mom didn’t mind that I moved out, so I don’t know what his problem is.”

  Celine falls silent, twirling her hair absentmindedly with one finger as she looks at nothing and everything at once. “You know what? Sometimes, I don’t, either.”

  “Come again?”

  She glances at me distractedly. “Dad’s been so jumpy lately,” she whispers. “It’s like he’s spooked or something. He’s always looked at Mom as though he’s scared she’ll disappear on him. But now, he looks at me that way, too.”

  “Should we suggest a therapist?”

  “I did. This morning, actually,” Celine admits. “He told me that no shrink could save him, and then he went back to staring out the window.”

  “You… you don’t think…?” I shake my head and abandon the thought mid-sentence. “Never mind.”

  “Tell me,” she insists.

  “You don’t think he’s going senile, do you?”

  Celine shakes her head. “No, I just think he’s getting more and more paranoid the older he gets. I think maybe taking care of Mom as long as he has is taking a toll.”

  “I don’t think that’s it. He’s been scared for longer than Mom’s been sick. I remember looking at him, right before we got the diagnosis. And he just looked… I don’t even know. He looked like something was eating him from the inside out.” I set my jaw stubbornly. “But if he won’t ask for help, that’s on him.”

  My sister scoffs. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black if I’ve ever heard it.”

  “I’m not like that at all! He’s got demons in his head? Well, join the freaking club. At least I’m doing something about it. Dad’s just gonna have to accept that he can’t control us forever.”

  “I don’t think he’s trying to control us. I think he just wants to protect us.”

  “Do you ever get tired?” I suddenly blurt.

  “Of what?”

  “Of defending everyone all the time.”

  Celine recoils and her face falls. She looks at me for a long moment, breathing heavily. Then she sighs and just like that, the tension goes whooshing out of her. “You know what? Sometimes, I do.”

  She does suddenly look exhausted. There are lines in her face that didn’t used to be there, and when the sun catches her head from behind, I see grays in her hair I’ve never noticed before.

  I reach out and cup her hand between mine as I give her the warmest smile I can muster. “I’ve got an idea,” I suggest. “For the next hour, how about we forget the fact that our mother’s sick, and our father’s losing his marbles—” She tries to interrupt me, but I hold up my hand and barrel ahead. “And let’s just have a nice brunch and talk about stupid things that don’t matter at all and have some quality, one-on-one sister time.”

  Celine smiles, truly smiles, for the first time since I sat down. “Okay. I can agree to that.”

  “Great! Now, tell me about the guy who gave you the pearls.”

  She laughs and shakes her head at me. I don’t miss the subtle blush creeping up her cheeks. “You’re relentless.”

  “You made me this way. You never tell me anything about your personal life.”

  “Because up until recently, there hasn’t been much to tell. I mean, not that there’s much to tell now,” she overcorrects.

  But that blush on her cheeks is here to stay. “Nothing much to tell?” I echo. “Cee, he gave you pearl earrings, and they look pretty damn real from where I’m sitting. I think there’s a whole lot of something to tell. I’m all ears.”

  Her eyes fall into her lap and she unconsciously reaches for the pearls at her ears. A soft, shy smile plays over her lips.

  “Yeah… he’s a good guy,” she murmurs. “He makes me feel… Well, anyway. It’s really new.”

  I want to be happy for her, I really do. And I am. I just wish that she trusted me enough to believe that I’d be happy for her. That I’d root for her the way I’ve always tried to.

  I want her to believe I love her.

  The waitress brings over our food. I take a moment to rearrange my face and thank her.

  “So,” Celine says, grabbing her fork and knife and clearing her throat, “what about you? Any romantic prospects on the horizon?”

  I’m glad I gathered my composure right before she asked that question, because if I hadn’t, she would’ve seen the guilt written all over me. My mind goes straight back to the perfumed leather seats of his car. His rich, smoky, whiskey scent.

  Sometimes at night, when I concentrate hard, I can still feel heat in all the places he touched me.

  “No,” I tell her soberly. “None at all.”

  “Hm.” She glances at me over her avocado toast. “By the way, before I forget, would you mind taking the chemo shift with Mom tomorrow evening?”

  “Of course not. I’m on it.”

  “Thanks. I made plans for dinner and I’m cutting it close as it is. Don’t want to be late.”

  “Ah-ha! It’s a date?”

  She smiles coyly. “I’ll tell you about him when I know it’s gonna turn into something. I promise.”

  I don’t have the right to be annoyed. It’s not like I’m being honest with her about my little roll in the hay with Adonis. Everyone’s entitled to their little secrets.

  Celine’s got hers.

  And I’ve got him.

  TAYLOR

  SIX WEEKS LATER

  There should be a more graceful way to determine if your life is about to fall to pieces than squatting down to pee on a stick.

  Terrifying things shouldn't also be humiliating.

  As if that weren’t bad enough, my phone vibrates right when I start peeing. I jerk forward on instinct like the Pavlov-conditioned Gen Z’er that I am—and promptly feel pee running over my fingers while I try to keep the stick at the right angle.

  Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

  I’m forced to sit there and soak until the job is done. Only then can I deposit the test on the bathroom counter in my premade nest of paper towels before lunging to the sink and washing my hands three times over.

  “Fantastic,” I mutter to my reflection. “Really dignified. This’ll be a great story to tell my future kid one day. ‘I ended up peeing on my hand while I was waiting to find out if I was pregnant with you. It was a sacred and beautiful moment of motherhood.’”

  The moment the words are out of my mouth, though, I feel a wave of nausea, followed by a wave of fear. Suddenly, nothing is funny.

  “Oh God. Please, please… This can’t be how it happens…”

  I button my pants and pace around the tiny bathroom. I pointedly avoid looking at the pregnancy test. Instead, I pick up my phone to see who rang.

  I’ve got a missed call from Celine and one from Mom. I decide to call Mom first.

  “Hey, sweetie,” she answers. She sounds tired today. “Did you talk to Celine?”

  “No, should I have?”

  “She called me twice and I missed both calls, then didn’t pick up when I rang her back. I was just wondering if everything was okay?”

  “I missed Celine’s call, too. I was, uh…busy.”

  I don’t add that I was busy peeing on a stick. And my hand. And questioning my life choices.

  “Find out if everything is okay and then call me back.”

  “Mom,” I say patiently, “doesn’t Celine live with you?”

  “She hasn’t been at home the last two nights.”

  Whoa. That’s news to me. “Really?”

  “It’s that new boy she’s dating,” Mom says, oblivious to the shock in my voice. “I think things are getting serious between them.”

  I glance towards the test stick, but I can’t see anything from here. I push it out of my head for the duration of this call. For the next few minutes, I decide to believe that I’m not pregnant. I’m pretty sure this is what all the woo-woo TikTok girlies mean by “manifesting.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “She’s just in such a good mood all the time,” Mom explains. “Plus, she’s spending more and more time over at his place. She basically only comes home for a change of clothes.”

  I frown. It’s very unlike Celine to do anything new so quickly. She makes life changes the same way she gets into a swimming pool: one tippy toe at a time.

  “What do you know about him?” I ask.

  “Next to nothing.” Mom sighs. “But he seems very impressive. He inherited his father’s business and now, he runs it on his own. Has a really nice house in The Valley, too.”

  I don’t know what I’m more annoyed by: the fact that he’s clearly a trust fund kid or that Mom knows a lot more about him than I do.

  “Celine hasn’t really told me anything about him, either.”

  “Oh.” I’ve never heard an ‘oh’ said with so much weight behind it. Of course, Mom being Mom, she jumps right into Diplomat Mode. “I’m sure she just wants to keep things private for a little while. You know her.”

  I sigh. “Yeah. I’m just saying—”

  “I’m sure it has nothing to do with Alec.”

  Oof. Those words land like a punch to the gut. I close my eyes for a moment, thinking about how simple things were back then. Back when Mom was healthy and Dad wasn’t so scared. Back when summers were long and worries were short-lived and no blue-eyed demons came barreling through my neighborhood when I was crossing the road.

  My phone starts beeping, alerting me to an incoming call. “Mom, can I call you right back?”

  “Better yet, why don’t you come over this evening?”

  “Oh, Mom, I—”

  “Please, Taylor,” she says. “Your father misses you. I do, too.”

  “Okay,” I sigh. “I’ll come by later. Bye, Mom. Love you.”

  I end the call with her and accept Celine’s. The pregnancy test is still lurking on the counter like a grenade with the pin missing, but I choose to put that off a little longer. Give it time to change its mind, y’know?

  “Hi, Cee. Sorry I missed your call.”

  “It’s okay. Just wanted to share some news.”

  I hear the verbal equivalent of her itchy-butt face. An anxious, lip-chewing excitement. “Something you’d like to tell me, sister dearest?”

  She draws in a deep breath before launching into it. “Okay, here goes: I know this is going to come as a huge shock, but I want you to know that I’ve thought this through.”

  “I’m not sure I like the way this is starting…”

  “You know what a cautious person I am. You know I never do anything without thinking it through first.”

  “Of course. I’ve always said you’re well on your way to becoming Dad. Why do anything when you can just worry about how it will go wrong instead?”

  She fakes a sarcastic laugh. “Ha. Ha. Do you want to hear my news or not?”

  “Yes, sorry. Proceed.”

  Another deep breath. This one makes me catch my own.

  Suddenly, I’m less concerned with the pregnancy test than I am with whatever Celine is about to tell me. I get the same sense I got the night the man almost ran me down outside of the park: a feeling of something huge and violent and unavoidable hurtling in my direction. A feeling that everything is about to change forever, and the person I was before this moment is not the same as the person I will be after.

  “I’m…engaged.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “Like I said, I know it’s fast—”

  “Fast?” I gasp. “Fast?! Celine, how long have you even been with this guy?”

  “Two months as of last night.”

  “You just heard yourself right now, right?”

  “I warned you it’d be a shock.”

  “Of course it’s a shock! Celine, I know nothing about this guy! He could be a—a—a—”

  “A what?”

  “A murderer! A psychopath! A K-Pop fan! Shit, I don’t know!”