Guess the absent-sister guilt technique is another trait she inherited from our mother. And, okay, I’m not the best at keeping engagements… Or calling, or texting… And it’s not that I don’t love Jules… It’s only that being around my baby sister is so hard sometimes…

“About that.” I avoid looking at her by buttoning up the collar of my coat against the freezing air. “Can we go somewhere nearby? I have to get back to the office soon.”

Hidden behind a curtain of flying hair, I watch as Jules struggles not to let her smile falter.

“Sorry,” she says, linking our arms and dragging me to the edge of the curb to hail a cab. “I’ve already picked a place, and Paul is meeting us there.”

A cab screeches to a halt in front of us seconds later, thankfully distracting Julia and buying me enough time to compose my features. Otherwise, my expression would’ve given me away. If being around Jules is hard, the combo Julia and Paul leans dangerously close to unbearable. Worse than family and holidays.

I open the cab’s rear door and settle on the black leather seat. Not because I’ve accepted my fate, but because I really need to sit before I fall down. Julia squeezes in next to me.

Once the cab pulls into traffic, I casually ask, “If you’re having lunch with your boyfriend, why do you need me to tag along? Don’t you guys want to be alone?”

I’m still hoping I can escape. I could hop off the taxi at the next traffic light and grab a hot dog from a street cart on the way back… It’d be so easy. A perfect, quick, sans Jules & Paul lunch.

“Don’t be silly,” Julia says, laughing as she crushes my getting-out-of-lunch fantasy. “Paul loves you as a sister, just as much as I do.”

Ah.

Whoever said words hurt more than actions was so right. I focus on the tall city buildings sweeping by, fighting a losing battle with the lump in my throat. I don’t utter a word for the rest of the fifteen-minute trip, and follow Julia out of the cab as it pulls up in front of… No!

I stare transfixed at the retro diner that used to be my and Paul’s special place, now their special place. Behind the glass walls, Paul is already seated in a red vinyl booth, waiting for us at our usual table, now also theirs.

Nuh-uh, I don’t think I can go in there. My feet are glued to the concrete. I can’t move.

That is, until Jules pulls my hand forward, saying, “Come on, Nik, it’s freezing out here.”

She drags me the few steps to the door and pushes it open, pulling me into the past. Back to almost ten years ago when it was just Paul and me, when Julia was still in high school and living at home. Out of my life, never into his.

Big Mama hasn’t changed since then: the black and white tiled floor, the red booths near the windows, and the row of metal stools with cushions of the same red vinyl along the bar on the other side. Even the air smells the same: of burgers and fries, vanilla, and coffee that never stops coming.