“Apology accepted,” Remi said, stretching out on the spotless bench perched above a neat row of snow boots.

“You shouldn’t accept apologies so easily. That just gives assholes like me the opening to be assholes again.”

“You’re not a real asshole. At least not a permanent one.”

On a sigh, Kimber dropped her head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I just never had the path like you did, you know?”

“What path?”

Her sister gestured with her Dora the Explorer sippy cup. “You know. Painting. You were destined for it. The only thing I knew for sure is that I wanted to have a family.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have a family, weirdo,” Remi pointed out.

“Of course not. But what’s it say about me that I got what I wanted and I can’t stop complaining about it? We tried for a year and a half to get pregnant with Hadley. My entire life was ovulation charts and sperm counts and researching whether microwaving leftovers could destroy my eggs.”

“Just because you wanted something and you worked really fucking hard to get it doesn’t mean you don’t get to acknowledge what a horrific pain in the ass it can be,” Remi pointed out.

Kimber’s eyebrows rose. “Jeez, Rem. When the hell did you get all wise?”

“Recent experience,” Remi said, rattling the ice in her cup. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting more. There’s also nothing wrong with demanding help so you can pursue things you want to do. Is it more important that all of Ian’s snow pants are dry on Friday or that he knows how to shoulder his share of the work in a home and a relationship?”

Her sister was silent.

“And what’s a better example for Hadley? Seeing her mom sacrifice everything, including her already questionable mental stability—”

“Hey!” Kimber threw a box of dryer sheets at her.

“—for her children?” Remi continued. “Or seeing a woman who knows how to take care of herself first as a whole, complete person with goals and interests and at least one goddamn slot on her own calendar?”

“You know, I’m the older sister,” Kimber said. “I should be the one advising you.”

“How many days do you have to catch up on the disaster I’m making of my life?”

“Well, apparently I have Mondays free now,” her sister quipped.

“In that case, I’ll come back Monday and tell you that I had a breakthrough year as an artist painting under another name. My bank account has actual commas. It was going great until I found out my best friend’s husband was abusing her, and when I tried to help her get out of the relationship, he nearly killed us both in a car accident. So I ran here to lick my wounds and ended up licking Brick’s spectacular body instead. Now I’m exhausted and sort of, maybe happy and very terrified and sore from having too many orgasms. My orgasm muscles are sore, Kimber. And there’s a distinct possibility that Brick legitimately ruined my lady parts for all other men. I’m seriously entertaining the idea of dating only women when he runs away from me again just so I don’t have to compare future sexual partners to the literal god of sex.”