“Someday, you’ll realize your worth, and on that day, I hope you put your pride aside.” He paused, weighing what he was about to say. “Did you know she bought an apartment?”

I stopped and turned, bag still on my shoulder. “What?” I asked quietly, another betrayal flaming in my ribs.

“Around the corner. She asked me if I’d help her renovate it, asked me not to say anything. She said she was waiting until after that godforsaken wedding to tell you. I know it’s not much, but Kash—the way she talked about you was not like you were disposable. Weirdly, she asked me if you liked dogs. She might as well have asked how many kids you wanted to have.”

I tossed the bag on its mates and shook my head to clear it.

“Do you honestly think she bought a place right here, right around the corner just for Ivy? Because she never once mentioned her sister’s name, but yours found its way into every sentence.” He watched me, and I didn’t speak, parsing what he’d said. “Listen, I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel. But I’ll say this—if you truly love her, don’t just walk away. Give her a chance.”

“I already gave her my hope. How much more can I give?”

“You can give her your trust.”

I stilled.

“All of this, all these things you’re afraid of, they have nothing to do with her and everything to do with you. But Lila isn’t Ali. No amount of worrying will make it so. But if you’re not careful, you’ll lose her. And I have a feeling this time, you won’t move on.” With another sigh, he straightened up to leave. “I hope you change your mind.”

A dozen smart responses fired in my mind, but my heart stung with the truth, with the future he’d painted, the one without her. I grabbed another bag, unsure what to say, how to defend myself when he was right. But when I’d unloaded my haul, he was gone.

My pain stayed right where it was.

26

Hey, Dummy

LILA

The baby’s room had been plagued by daylight for hours, chasing me under my pillow, burying me deep in the covers where it was cool and dark and lonely.

I hadn’t slept, but I didn’t toss and turn either. Instead, I’d lay there in the dark as still and quiet as a tomb, counting my mistakes in tens and twenties.

Ivy had welcomed me in late last night, shepherded me to the baby’s room—currently unoccupied, as baby Olive had taken residence in Ivy’s room—and there we sat until the baby woke to eat. She held me when I cried and listened to me recount and sort what had happened. We’d uncovered no solutions, only an infinite sadness.