It wasn’t until they’d come back from the mainland that Sister Tessie had also indulged Kate in the story of her dream: Sister Tessie had found Sister Hattie in the garden. Sister Tessie had asked her if she’d seen Tilly. She hadn’t, so Sister Tessie had taken it upon herself to tell Sister Hattie all about Tilly’s engagement. Sister Hattie had been over the moon for her niece.

“It’s not some prophecy,” Kate said softly, “or divine intervention. He was going to love you and leave you—for God knows how long. He just wants you to look after his children. Sister Hattie wouldn’t have wanted that for you, Til. That’s not a marriage. That’s not an equal partnership. That’s you being his nanny.”

Tilly’s eyes squeezed closed. She brought a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Kate.”

Fear twisted her stomach into knots. “I need to know that you’re going to tell him tonight.”

Tilly stared down at her lap.

Kate cleared her throat. “You’re going to tell him tonight, right?”

The room fell silent. Tilly reached across the floor to where her heels sat at the base of her nightstand. She crossed her legs and slipped the right shoe onto her stockinged foot. “I don’t know,” she said softly.

Kate’s jaw set hard. “What the hell do you mean you don’t know?”

“I don’t know if it’s the right time. Christmas is in two days. I’m supposed to be having lunch with his family—”

“Is this why you never brought it up? Because you had no intention of breaking it off tonight?”

Tilly fixed her with a tired look. “There are children involved, Kate. Children whose Christmas would be ruined if I do this tonight. Please don’t be like this.”

“Be like what?” she asked, choked.

“Be selfish.”

The words speared indignation between Kate’s ribs and robbed her of breath. Would she always come second for Tilly—behind God, behind clergymen, behind people to be fixed? Hurt seized her, lit her skin hot with irritation. Once upon a time, Kate had been the troubled, enraged, depressed girl who had been Tilly’s number one priority. Back then, she’d held Tilly’s attention, her love. Now, Kate was healed. So why did she feel as fragile as a dream?

As she watched Tilly buckle the strap of her shoe, she reached behind herself and clutched the lip of the dresser with both hands. Anger chased through her, white-hot. “So after the week we’ve had, after every night you’ve been in my bed…you’re just going to sit there in the front row and nod along to his homily at midnight mass? Play the vicar’s good wife? Have Christmas lunch with him and the kids on Monday? I don’t think you can do that knowing what you know, knowing what we did—”

Panicked, Tilly looked to the gap in the bedroom door. “Can you please lower your voice? Sister Ruth will be here any moment!”