She pushed the pad toward him, and he grabbed a pen from the old jam jar which held pens and pencils, scissors, odds and ends, a catch-all trinket that had sat on that table for years.

“What are you writing?” A tone of alarm as he scribbled something down.

“Hold on.” He finished, handed back the paper.

“Write to Charlie.” She blushed and looked exasperated. “Thanks. You seem to be very determined on this point.”

“You should do it.”

“Maybe I will, then. Fine. Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just...” She grabbed his arm. “Hold still.”

The pen tickled and dug in. “Ouch!”

“Oh, calm down, you big baby. There.” She dropped the pen, face smug.

He held his hand up, and there, in her sweet feminine handwriting with a little heart at the end, was Find Theodore Beaumont.

“Meg.” His stomach dropped.

“I know we talked about it earlier. And I want you to do it. That’s what’s on your list.”

“My list?”

“The what to finally fucking do list.”

His hand was sweating, his whole body anxious, and he tried not to think about Meg writing on the hand which had been reaching out for almost a year. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I’m sorry too. For not noticing.”

“I can’t live without you, Meg.” He meant it, and he also meant that he couldn’t live with her, couldn’t live as her husband, couldn’t bear the thought of having sex with someone he was incapable of loving the right way. Not anymore.

“And you won’t. We have three pretty big reasons why. I’m not going anywhere.” She picked up the peanut butter jar, inspecting it, trying to hide the fact that she was crying. “But maybe we should start living the way we should have lived—childhood friends. Family. Family we chose.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his face, so tired, and then realized he had smudged ink all over himself.

“You are my best friend. You’re my brother, really. That’s what it should have been.”

“Okay.” He felt empty inside, and then a spark of something—something childlike and fresh like summer days and grape soda—made him say, “Write to Charlie. Do it.”

“Yes, yes.” She made a face at him, stuck out her tongue, then grinned, eyes wet. “Go get Theo. You better do it. Or else.”

“Or else, huh?” He smiled. “Yeah.”

Another pause. Safer, now. Less painful.

“And now, go the fuck to bed, for both of us.”