She laughs. “We have people for that,” she says.

“People?”

She nods. “Yep. There are people for everything,” she says. “You’d be surprised. Think of something. Anything. We probably have people for it.”

“Groceries?”

“People,” she says.

“Christmas décor?”

She nods. “People for that, too.”

“What about birthday gifts? Like for family members?”

She grins. “Yep. People. Everyone in my family receives a gift and a card for every occasion and I never have to lift a finger.”

I shake my head. “Wow. How long have you been this rich?”

“Three years,” she says. “Marshall sold a few apps he developed to Apple for a lot of money. Every six months, he creates updates and sells those, too.”

The coffee transitions into a slow drip, so I grab a mug and fill it up. “You want anything in yours?” I ask. “Or do you have people for that?”

She laughs. “Yes. I have you, and I’d like sugar, please.”

I stir some sugar into her cup and walk it over to her, then pour myself a cup. It grows quiet for a while as I mix in creamer, waiting for her to say something about me and Ryle. The conversation is inevitable.

“Can we just get the awkwardness out of the way?” she says.

I sigh, relieved. “Please. I hate this.” I face her and take a sip of my coffee. She sets hers down beside her and then grips the countertop.

“How did that even happen?”

I shake my head, trying my best not to smile like I’m love-struck. I don’t want her to think I’m weak, or a fool for giving in to him. “We met before I knew you.”

She tilts her head. “Wait,” she says. “Before we got to know each other better or before we knew each other at all?”

“At all,” I say. “We had a moment one night, about six months before I met you.”

“A moment?” she says. “As in . . . a one-night stand?”

“No,” I say. “No, we never even kissed until last night. I don’t know, I can’t explain it. We just had this sort of flirtation thing going on for a really long time and it finally came to a head last night. That’s all.”

She picks up her coffee again and takes a slow drink from it. She stares down at the floor for a while and I can’t help but notice she looks a little sad.

“Allysa? You’re not mad at me, are you?”

She immediately shakes her head. “No, Lily. I just . . .” She sets down her coffee cup again. “I just know my brother. And I love him. I really do. But . . .”

“But what?”

Allysa and I both look in the direction of the voice. Ryle is standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest. He’s wearing a pair of gray jogging pants that are barely hanging on to his hips. No shirt. I’ll be adding this outfit to all the other ones I’ve catalogued in my head.