She shook her head. “No. It’s still an egregious waste of resources and a ginormous drain on the power grid, all of which is heating up Mother Earth. You are one person. How can you possibly need this much space?”

“I’m seeing why the politicians and investors are not leaping on board with your development,” I said. My tone was as dry as plain toast.

“Which is why I need you,” she said. “I don’t need your money. I just need you. Come on, Nicky, for old times’ sake, help me get people excited about my development. This is my first project as architect on record. I need this.”

I kept my face neutral. It was a struggle because I really loved that she was so passionate about her project and that she was taking her architectural degree in such a forward-thinking direction. I wanted to do a fist pump. Instead, I shook my head. The mere thought of getting back out there with a body that could fail me at any moment—no, I was not doing that.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I kept my voice firm. “I can’t help you.”

She stared at me in disbelief, as if in all of her wildest imaginings my saying no had never been a part of the equation. She’d looked at me just like that when she caught me trying to be the tooth fairy slipping the change I’d found under the couch cushions beneath her pillow. I never did find the stupid tooth she’d put under there.

“Is that really how you want it?” she asked. The hurt in her voice cut through the haze of the memories with a razor’s precision.

We stared at each other. Me, a shell of my former self, and her, young and vibrant with her whole life ahead of her. I was not going to be the anchor that pulled her under the water.

“That’s the way it has to be,” I said. I thought I sidestepped answering the question pretty well. I was in the midst of mentally patting myself on the back when she interrupted.

She leaned over the coffee table, bracing her upper body with her hands. She was pushing into my space, and it took everything I had not to back up when she growled, “Fuck that.”

“Alexandra Margaret Brewer!” I scolded, emphasizing her adopted last name. “That language is completely uncalled for.”

A slow grin spread across her face and she laughed. It was the same infectious, mischievous laugh she’d had as a kid. She pushed back to standing and propped one hand on her hip. She looked down her nose at me and said, “You’re not the boss of me.”

Oh, she was dragging out that old chestnut. She was playing me just like she had when we were kids. I shook my head. I was not going to get sucked in. Nope, nope, nope.