“I can feel your nerves through my laptop,” Emma says. “Spill.”

I grab another couple of dresses from the dwindling pile of outfits that Emma hasn’t rejected already. I duck back into the frame with a smile on my face. “Okay, which one?”

“Oh! Has my sister caught feelings? I said spill.”

“I like this one,” I say, jiggling the cheetah print dress in my left hand, “because it gives very sexy Fred Flintstone vibes.”

Emma squints in confusion. “Why would that be a goal?”

“But this one is late 2000s white party but like five years after they went out of style and also fast fashion.”

“Are you trying to break up with her tonight or…? Is that what’s happening?”

“No,” I say, much too fast, loud, and emphatically. When it comes to secrets — in particular my secrets — Emma is like a predator. Even thousands of miles away, she can sniff out everything I’m trying to hide from her. Distance and technology cannot save me from my meddling little sister.

“What’s her name?” she demands.

“Nadia,” I whisper.

“And what does Nadia do for a living?” Emma has a way of asking questions where you — me — realize that you don’t have options. We’ve been here so many times before. I can duck and dodge her inquiries all I want, and Emma will maybe let me, but she will always come back to the issue at hand. It might not be tonight, but it will happen, so I might as well tell her what she wants to know now.

“She’s a lawyer, and her husband’s a high school principal.”

Emma’s mouth falls open. There’s a stalemate between us for a few seconds before she jumps up to her knees. She starts jumping on her bed, bouncing her computer up and down. Watching her actually starts to make me queasy, so I dump those dresses on the reject pile and turn back to my bed. One more dress to go.

“Oh shit!” Emma cries.

When I turn back to the tablet, I now have a great view of the popcorn ceiling in Emma’s room. Her face comes into view. She’s smiling and laughing as she pulls her laptop onto the bed again. “So, you found your people, huh?”

“This dress is my Vanity 6 but sluttier fave,” I say in a trembling voice. “But are the sequins too much?”

“Can’t believe that hookup app really worked,” Emma says as if I hadn’t said anything about this dress which cost me more money than any other single item in my wardrobe.

“It’s not a hookup app.”

“For you. I have friends who say otherwise. But now I can’t wait to tell them that there’s something that looks like serious on there as well. How’s the sex?”

I shake my head. “Absolutely not talking about that with you.”