‘You’re right, I should have told you then. When we were kids, I didn’t want to make my dad angry and I was so young. I thought maybe they were right, that I was mistaken and that saying anything would just hurt everyone. I didn’t want to believe you were adopted because I wanted desperately for you to be my cousin. The idea that you may not be terrified me. I was afraid of losing you. I know that sounds stupid but at eight years old, it really freaked me out. It was easier to believe them than to keep pushing. I was afraid of the truth, I guess. So, I just shoved it down and lived in denial about that moment for all these years. I felt like if I didn’t say it out loud, then it wouldn’t be true. Then after so much time passed, it almost felt like it never even happened, like I’d imagined it. When the adoption story came out, I just couldn’t accept that I had known on some level all this time. I know that’s not an excuse, I should have told you right away. But I was scared, Lizzie. I saw how upset you were with your parents, and I didn’t want you to be angry with me too. It was wrong.’

I slammed the fridge door shut and pulled out the cutting board. Grabbing a knife and a few tomatoes, I rinsed them and began furiously chopping. Andie gave me a nervous look.

‘I don’t know what to say Andie,’ I shook my head. It felt like steam was coming out of my ears like in the cartoons I’d watched as a child.

‘Liz, please slow down. You’re gonna chop a finger off. And then I’ll have to rush you to the hospital and it’ll be a huge ordeal. They’ll have to give you a prosthetic finger and you won’t be able to play piano ever again …’ Andie said with a small, hopeful smile.

I dropped the knife. My hands were shaking. ‘This isn’t funny, Andie! First I find out my parents lied to me and now you.’

‘I didn’t lie to you Liz, I just didn’t tell you about the photo.’ She held up her hand as I opened my mouth. ‘Yes, I know, a lie of omission is still a lie. But can you see it from my side for just a second? Please?’

Her eyebrows were furrowed, tears clinging to her lashes. Andie rarely cried. She looked so upset and worried that my icy exterior melted slightly. I put my hands on the counter and exhaled. Andie had perfected the sad, pitiful look over the years and it was incredibly effective. She looked up at me with her big brown weepy eyes, chipping away at my anger.