“You love the Whalens, though,” I protest weakly. Not Tilda, but those kids—Sibby’s poured her whole heart into those kids for the last four years she’s worked for the Whalens.

Sibby looks down, rubs her thumb against the outer edge of her laptop. “They’ll be okay. Spence’ll be in school full time soon. And anyway, I’ve probably only got a year or two left in me for nannying. Besides, that was never the dream.”

“Will you start auditioning again?”

She purses her lips, shifts her eyes toward the front window. It’s sunny out, a slant of light passing through the thick pane of glass, and I see the crinkles at the corners of Sibby’s eyes. Tiny, cheerful lines from a big, honking laugh I haven’t heard in months.

“No, Eli got a producing gig at NBC, a pretty good one. I may not even have to work forever.”

“Sib,” I say. That nickname, it’s always felt special. Sib, short for Sibby, short for Sibyl. But to me, it always felt—short for sibling. Short for the sister I never had. But this isn’t the sister I know. “I don’t understand this.”

This is such a profound understatement that it’s almost funny. It isn’t that I thought Sibby and I would live together forever; it isn’t even that we haven’t considered separate places before. After all, when she took the job here, it was me who thought of staying behind in Manhattan, where I was getting steady work even without the benefit of a home shop like Cecelia’s, in demand enough to be able to dodge noncompetes for the shops I did work with. But how did we get to this place, a place where we haven’t even talked about this massive change? How is it simply an announcement, and not the culmination of hours of conversation, including at least a few hours devoted to my ambitious, determined friend saying she may not even have to work anymore? How did this happen?

She led, and I followed. Reid’s deep voice again, and all I can think is: I wish I had a code for this. I wish I had a sign.

“It’s a big change, I know,” Sibby says lightly, opening her laptop and tapping a few keys. “Here, I’ll pull up the listing for you so you can—”