“No. I had to grab some supplies for Edith’s. I’m sorry if we woke you.” Joey started to walk in, but Grant pulled her arm.

“Good luck today, babe.” He kissed her. “Bye, Lil.”

“Bye, Grant.” Lily reached her arms to the ceiling in a wide-eyed sleepy stretch. “Joey, do you know this thing is like lying on cement?”

Joey didn’t respond, just rifled through her drawer of oils and piled them into a canvas bag. Then she stopped, went over to the couch, and perched on the armrest. “Lil, how are you feeling?”

“Fine.” Lily turned her long frame to face the back of the couch. She wore a pair of Joey’s pajama bottoms that were like pedal pushers on her coltish legs.

“Seriously, Lil. How are you doing?” Joey felt emotion swell in her throat. It wasn’t fair that this had all crashed down onto Lily. It so wasn’t fair.

“I’m doing terrible, Joey. I just found out Dad’s not my real dad. How do you think I’m doing?”

“I’m sorry, Lil. I’m so sorry you have to go through this. But I didn’t do this to you.”

“But you didn’t tell me right when you found out.”

“Lil.” Joey reached over to pat her arm.

Lily flinched. “Just go. Just leave.” Joey got up. Lily twisted back to her. “Don’t leave!”

“But…you just told me to!”

“How can you leave me at a time like this?” she wailed.

Joey had never seen her sister so undone. “I wish I didn’t have to go. But I need to finish Edith’s. The party for the Sri Lankan jewelry launch is tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah.” Lily sat up, and Joey swore that just like this, with her hair all mussed and her crop top strap askew off a shoulder, Lily could pose for the cover of her magazine.

“Maybe that’s what I’ll do, throw myself into work today,” said Lily, chewing on a fingernail. “I had a good idea last night actually. I wrote it to Kat. I think I’ll do a video blog. Something really raw. I’ll pose on your sad couch with these awful walls—the aqua is way too bright, Jo, it’s like living in Candy Land—and I’ll tell the whole sordid thing…”

“Lil…”

“But what do I wear? What says serious and sad, but still with a point of view?”

“Lil!”

“Yeah?” Her sister folded her legs beneath her and slapped her own face, once each cheek, hard.

Joey grabbed her sister’s hands. “It’s okay to cry, you know, Lil.”

Lily looked away. “I don’t want to cry, Joey. Weak people cry.”

“No,” Joey said emphatically, remembering those days and months and years on her couch, eating and watching TV and not crying. Just numb. “Strong women cry, Lil. I promise you that.”