“You know what I think? You couldn’t stand the idea of Delilah and I together. Why is that? And don’t give me any crap about being attached to me. We’ve been over for years.”

“You were still my boyfriend. Sisters do not poach old flames.”

“Oh, bullshit. You simply hate the idea that Delilah and I might be happy.” When she looks away and lifts her chin in defiance, I push on. “What did you say to her? That I was yours?” I snort in disgust. “Here’s a bit of news. I was never yours.”

Sam flinches. It’s slight, but I see it, and regret pings in my chest.

“Be cruel if you want,” she says, flipping her hair in a move I know is self-protective. “I don’t care anymore. But don’t pretend that we were nothing. We were together practically our whole childhood. No matter how much you deny it, you can’t erase that.”

The fight goes out of me with a sigh. I feel battered, and the greater half of me is still pulling toward Delilah, wanting to comfort her. Just hold her. Leaning against the counter, I regard the woman who was my partner in pettiness for years.

She’s right. We have a history. And not all of it was bad. There were times when we had fun, when she was the only person I could turn to. I both cared for her and loathed her. For better or worse, she was part of me for a long time.

“I don’t want to erase it because it’s part of my history. You were a friend when I didn’t have any. In all honesty, hanging out with you probably saved my life in more ways than one.”

Sam’s look of surprise is tentative but pleased.

I hold her gaze with my own. “But we brought out an ugliness in each other that was unhealthy and petty. And any nostalgic fondness died when you sold me out, stole the watch, and went into hiding.”

To her credit, she flinches. “I’m sorry about that. Truly. I know it was horrible. But I didn’t think that woman would hurt you. I thought she was a reporter. Okay, yes, it was stupid. And the watch . . . I was desperate.” For a moment, she appears frightened before she retreats under her mask. “But I brought it back. Doesn’t that count for something?”

The watch lying on the table sparkles in the sun like a living thing. Seeing it brings a familiar pang of longing for my mother, but it’s muted now, a ghost of feeling whispering along my heart. I’m happy to have the watch back, but now that it’s returned, I know that it was never about the watch. Not when it came to Delilah.