I glance at my feet, trying to ignore the uncalled for flare of jealousy in my throat. “That’s a relationship,” I point out.

“Yeah. I mean, I don’t do romantic relationships. I do friendship and all the other ships.”

“Have you—” I start, but she interrupts me.

“Does Mother Dearest have a romantic someone?”

I blink at her. “She does. Did. They’ve been broken up for a month because Mom’s been MIA with work twenty-four-seven, and we’ve all taken a back seat. His name is George. He’s great. He and his son, Gill, moved in with us when I was twelve. Gill’s a big nerd, but he’s cool. George got an apartment in town recently, and Gill lives in Boston most of the year for college now.”

Jamie plays with a stray curl near her ear. “So you all lived in … our house?”

“No, we moved closer to Papa—um, Mom’s dad—in New Jersey after Dad left…” I trail off.

Another piece of my heart breaks as I realize—We probably moved to a new house to help Mom really sell her Jamie deception, so there would be no physical places I would associate with her.

We don’t even … I’ve never seen any pictures pre-move.

Jamie clears her throat. “Hey, Sier, you’re doing that weird hyperventilating thing you do.”

I try to deepen my breathing. “Does Dad have someone?”

Jamie shakes her head. “Nah. He has lots of someones. They’re in and out every couple of months.”

“Do you ever think … that maybe Mom and Dad are meant to be together? That he’s still in love with her out in California and … that’s why he hasn’t settled down?”

Jamie coughs out a cynical laugh. “No. Do you not remember all the fighting?”

I shake my head. I barely remember Dad. Quick flashes. His smile. I have no idea what he was like.

Greedy. Selfish. Abandoning.

Jamie studies me. “I mean, I was only six so I have weird choice memories. I remember this one day when Mom had an audition, and later that day we had our dress rehearsal for a recital or something. Dad was responsible for getting us ready. And Mom came home to find that I had done your makeup.” Jamie smiles to herself.

I wish I could remember.

“I drew all over your face with her lipstick. I thought it looked fabulous, but she got so mad. Dad thought it was hilarious. We were supposed to leave immediately, but Mom had to scrub it off before we could head out. We were in the kitchen and she was half scolding us, half chuckling. Dad was sitting at the table watching with a big smile. I felt guilty about it at first, but when everyone thought it was funny, I thought I had done something awesome.