“Uh, yeah, I guess that means I’m going to Hawaii,” I said without any conviction whatsoever.

“You guess?”

“I don’t know.”

She leant across the counter and poured me more wine. “We’re gunna need a bigger bottle.”

*

The next morning, we were flying down the M4 in Cat’s car, the radio blaring far louder than my poor head would have liked. Why did my sister not get hangovers? She got the good hair. Wasn’t that enough? I was hating her a little from the passenger seat.

We’d opened a second bottle of wine—of course we had—which we drank with dinner and finished after dinner accompanied by Galaxy chocolate—not a great pairing, by the way. And we had to open the second bottle, because the first bottle didn’t even last until I dished up.

But once I did dish up, I told Cat we had to stop talking about James and Josh. We’d gone around in circles so many times my mind was dizzy and my emotions were in turmoil. Each time I heard either name, a surge of happiness, then confusion, then dread coursed through my veins. I had no frigging idea what I was going to do.

Cat had promised to deposit me in the “kiss and fly” drop-off zone at Heathrow, rather than parking and dragging out our goodbye, and after some pretty colourful swearing at some “stupid bloody idiots”—sometimes she was all Aussie—she squeezed into a kerb-side spot. She put the car in neutral and put the handbrake on, but kept it running, then got out and opened the boot.

My legs felt like lead as I climbed out of the car and found a luggage cart nearby. I rolled it over to the car, its front left wheel wobbling like a crappy shopping trolley. Wonderful. I helped Cat drag my giant backpack out of the car and onto the cart—she is just little, after all—and sat my leather handbag on top. We did all of that without speaking and I figured she was feeling as shitty as I was.

It was time.

I leant down and hugged her tightly and she returned the hug with ferocity. “I love you,” we both said at the same time. We pulled apart, both laughing through the tears that were streaming down our faces. I wiped mine away, my hangover forgotten for the moment. “Thank you so much. I’ve had the most amazing time. You’re the best sister ever.”

“Yes,” she said, as she wiped under her eyes with her forefingers. “I’m still waiting for my T-shirt.”

I laughed. “Christmas. Keep an eye on your mailbox.”

Her face crumpled and she hugged me again. “I’ll miss you,” she said, her voice ragged.

“Me too.” I had to go. The whole thing was excruciating, and I’d promised myself not to drag it out.

“Okay, I’m going to go now.”

She nodded. “Travel safe. Text me when you get home.”

I nodded back, not trusting my voice. I lifted my hand in a wave, even though she was less than a metre from me, grabbed the handle of my luggage cart, and started to push it away. It took a concerted effort to keep it from veering off to the left, but I pushed it across the crosswalk towards the terminal.