I nod. “Yes.”

“And we both said . . . it was ‘strange’ how much we liked it. How well it worked.”

Tears turn my vision blurry. “I remember.”

“And then you said, ‘strange can be good sometimes.’ ”

I nod again and smile tearily. “Yes.”

“I never thought . . .” He removes one of my pincers and clasps my hand inside his, softly tracing my palm with his thumb. “I never thought I could love someone so unlike me. That being so different from someone could make me feel right at home rather than every kind of wrong.” He glances up and meets my eyes. “But each moment I spent with you, every time we pretended, the strangest thing happened . . . It became real. Every way you were my opposite only made me want you more, every secret part of you that you entrusted to me only made me ache to trust you just as much. And then I realized that difference that I couldn’t get enough of . . . that strange, perfect intensity between us . . . it was love, beyond anything I’d ever known. I fell in love with you, so wildly, Bea. I love nothing in the world as I love you. And maybe you find that strange, but if you do . . . I hope it’s the best kind of strange, the kind that you might one day feel, too.”

Tears spill down my face. “Jamie.” I kiss him hard as I throw my arms around his neck, breathing him in, my heart dancing in a maelstrom of color and joy and love. “Jamie, I—”

“Bea!”

We startle apart, but this time it’s no trick-or-treater that’s broken the moment. That was my sister’s voice. I glance over my shoulder, instantly worried.

“Jules?”

She’s trying very hard to smile, but her face is tearstained and her makeup’s turned her into a sad racoon. “I’m okay,” she says thinly. “It’s okay.”

I hug her, wrapping her in my ridiculous costume. I rip off the headpiece and the other pincer. “No, you’re not. What’s wrong?”

Her face crumples, and she finally gives in to tears. “Everything.”

—

It’s been a while since I’ve been the caregiver in our twin dynamic, but I remember exactly what Jules needs. I stick her in the shower and set out her favorite tea, then I change the sheets on her bed and light a few lavender candles.

Jamie’s an angel and helps me, putting on the kettle, teaming up with me to make her bed. We’re both tense wrecks because we both know this has to be about Jean-Claude, whose rare absence we’ve obviously noted, even though Jules hasn’t said that yet. She hasn’t said anything. She just cried the whole walk home, leaning into me, Jamie on my other side, supporting me as I supported her.