“Thanks,” I say.

“Keep an eye on her,” Jim says to Kiera.

“Sure look,” she responds with a thumbs-up.

Marcia leaves the kitchen tsking, and we make our way out.

I’ve done so much work to release the strain of never being able to please everybody. The early reviews used to kill me. The comment section is a radioactive wasteland. That New Yorker article. The videos Lisa Michele forces me to watch or overhear. I have tried so hard to not care about what other people think. And yet here I am, a million miles from real life, and someone’s mom is mad at me.

It’s kind of my worst nightmare.

We make our way out, but as we get to the end of the front path, Jim stands in his doorway and calls, “And Meg?”

I turn. “Yeah?”

“Give him his bloody dog back, will ya?”

I glance at Kiera, then back to Jim. “I will.”

“He’s lost without her, you know. He’s lost without you, too, but the dog—let him at least have her.”

“I will.”

“All right, love. Tell him his old man said hello. See you down the pub.”

Then he goes inside and shuts the door behind him.

I turn to Kiera. “Good looks really run in that family.”

“Feck’s sake, even when you’ve lost your memory, you’re lusting after Cillian.”

“I mean, no, I don’t even know him.” We walk for a few seconds in silence, and then I say, “But he is pretty hot.”

“This is turning into a porny version of Cloud Atlas.”

I squint at her. “Cloud Atlas?”

“It’s the one with—”

“I know, it’s just such a bizarre thing to reference.”

“Okay, well, get back to me with another interdimensional love story.”

We walk down the path, back toward town.

Avalon is every bit as beautiful as I’d hoped it would be. There are sleepy green swaths of grass alongside the lazy paths, and the sun has hidden behind gray clouds. The cool breeze has been replaced with a slightly balmier one, the air swirling with wispy, violet fog.

“The fact that I’m even considering believing you is concerning,” Kiera says. “Maybe I should have had my head checked.”

I put my hands on her head and say, “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

“Head check done, you’re completely fine.”

She laughs and it feels so strangely familiar and good. I know how pathetic it sounds, but to be honest, I haven’t had a real friend in a while. Not like this. Not the kind you get paired with in sentences like every time I run into you two, or who feel comfortable enough to take a bite of your food without asking. It’s an intimacy I’ve missed.