“I’m not trying to be mean, but if you really like him, quit doing things halfway. Stop almost kissing him and actually making your feelings known.” Bree poured their mugs of tea. “Believe me, life’s too short. You’re forty-something not four hundred. This is your sexual prime. Get after it.”

“The man is my boss.” Renee stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea, the silver clattering against the ceramic. “I have to tread lightly here.”

Bree looked at her with such pity, Renee felt her skin crawl. “You’ve been treading lightly for twelve years now.”

There it was, the unspoken words she’d sensed flowing right under the surface were cresting. Her lungs filled. Taking a full breath was an impossible idea. It was one thing to know, vaguely, in the back of your mind that you were stuck. It was another thing to be unexpectedly doused in the face by the cold truth.

“Seriously?” She scooted away from the table and headed for the front door, needing an escape hatch, to hit the fresh air, to be able to breathe. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I don’t recall you exactly setting the town on fire since Ian broke off your engagement.”

The only sound was the scratching of her mother’s favorite lilac bush against the window pane.

Renee rubbed the bridge of her nose. Shit. She didn’t mean to fight dirty. “Bree—”

“Did you really just throw Ian in my face? Nice. That’s great. Real mature.”

Ian had been Bree’s boyfriend starting in high school. Comfortable, predictable Ian Doring was an accountant who was about as exciting as a glass of water. Still, her sister had seemed…content with the relationship. Accepting.

Or was it resigned?

Privately, Renee had been relieved when Ian got cold feet and called off the wedding five years ago. Bree might love knitting and be something of a homebody, but Renee felt like Bree’s heart was too big to be given to an auditor who seemed more passionate about duck hunting and the New England Patriots than her little sister.

She’d been meaning to talk to Bree. More and more she’d seemed to be going through the motions. Never fully engaged or happy.

But Renee was suddenly too exhausted for a deep and meaningful conversation. Plus her stomach had begun to hurt, like she’d been punched in the gut too many times for one day.

“I can’t fight with you too,” she announced with an air of finality.

“What do you mean ‘too’?”