“The point I’m trying to make here,” Dan continued, ignoring Karen’s rudeness, “is that you and Libby are very similar, but Alice is …” A soft smile lifted his lips. “Alice. You can’t press her into a mold that doesn’t suit her.”

Except Dan didn’t understand Alice like Karen did. He hadn’t spent years helping her achieve things he’d taken for granted only to almost lose her to a dark and terrifying place. He hadn’t been the one worrying about her for another decade until she’d finally found her feet and established herself in a career she loved. The only thing that protected Alice from that dark place was the mold of security and permanency. As her mother, it was Karen’s job to make sure she found it again.

Libby was sprawled across a picnic blanket on the beach and concentrating on nothing but her body. The breeze on her skin, the pressure and release of the salt-laden air entering and exiting her lungs, the touch of rough sand on her feet and the kiss of spring sunshine radiating through her hat.

Remembering what she’d learned at the couples’ workshop, she’d been striving each day to carve out some time to just be. Usually, it was a struggle to manage ten minutes, but on this glorious Tuesday afternoon, she’d been gifted twice as long, because Alice was running late. Afternoon clinic started at 2:00 so if her twin didn’t arrive soon, she’d miss lunch completely.

“Sorry.”

Libby felt Alice plonk herself down on the rug. She rolled onto her side, letting the hat fall, and squinted at her sister. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve had a blissful and demand-free break.”

“In that case, I totally planned to give it to you. It had nothing to do with me getting so engrossed in planning my first public mural that I lost track of time.” Alice’s stomach rumbled. “Did you leave me some lunch?”

“In the cooler.” Libby sat up, slid on her sunglasses and pulled her hat down low as Alice bit into her sandwich. “Al?”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry I overreacted about Jess and the winter solstice thing.”

Alice stopped chewing and swallowed, unable to hide her surprise. “Thank you.”

“I should have apologized weeks ago.”

“Hmm. What made you decide to do it today?”

“Nick and I have been learning about how we react to things. For a while, anything to do with that woman flooded me with so much anger I couldn’t differentiate between innocent parties and guilty. Everyone got caught up in my personal thunderstorm, including you.” Libby twiddled her wedding band, gathering her words. “Relearning trust is hard, but I need to apologize, especially to you, because you’ve never let me down. You’re my twin. You’ve always been there for me.”