“Gee, thanks,” Sophie said dryly. She studiously avoided her sister’s eye for fear that tacit commiseration would cause them both to break out into laughter. That or tears. “Does this mean I’m the one who’s been chosen to grow into lonely spinsterhood and take care of you and Dad in your old age?”

Her mother’s cluck was neither an assent nor a denial. It lay somewhere in between, a confirmation that whatever else Sophie was—or wasn’t—she’d never be like her sisters. Her life had never been one of independence and adventure. And if her relatives had their way, it never would be.

Even though no one in this room had said the word cancer—or even alluded to it—it was still everywhere around them. In the extra wrinkles around her mom’s mouth, where frowns had outpaced smiles for seven long years. In the way Dawn sat with her body angled on the edge of the couch, ready to jump to Sophie’s aid should Alice’s care get too officious. The room itself was a testament to everything this family had sacrificed for her. Her sisters would have happily gone off to live in separate apartments, but no one had felt comfortable with the idea of Sophie being on her own, so their parents had put a down payment on a lovely house with a kennel out back.

Oh, how she loved these people. And, oh, how she resented them.

“I don’t care what you do as long as you’re happy,” her mom said. Then, in direct contradiction to this, she added, “I also talked to Oscar this morning.”

Sophie passed a hand over her eyes. This was so much worse than she’d feared.

“You know I like to check in with him every few weeks to see how he’s doing,” her mom said, fully on the defensive. “I worry about him, living all alone as he does.”

It was true. Poor Oscar had no idea what he’d gotten into the day he’d agreed to meet the girl whose life he’d saved. Not everyone agreed to the patient-donor meetings, since they could come with quite a bit of awkwardness, but her mother had been determined to thank Sophie’s savior in person. That had been ten years ago, and thanking him had been the least of it. Oscar was now invited to every holiday gathering, sent homemade baked goods at least every other week, and received regular phone calls from the family matriarch to ensure he didn’t want for anything.

The Vasquez family didn’t do things by halves. They were like a gang that way. Once you were in, it was a lifetime deal.

“He told me he has you helping him with a little project,” Alice continued.

Dawn snorted. “Little isn’t the word I’d use to describe him.”