I pause, staring at her. “After all these years, I still feel like I don’t know you.”

She flips her hair teasingly. “I’m a puzzle, darling. Besides, your job as my best friend is just to understand me and accept me for who I am, not judge me or fix me or give me advice. That job is for a therapist or a psychiatrist, which you are not.”

“Not yet.”

“You don’t even want to be a doctor anymore!”

I shrug. Who knows what life will bring? I’ve become more comfortable with that reality. Finding solace in the unknown. “Still. Did you hear what you just said? You’re going to Milan, not a war zone.”

“Honestly, biotech can be a cutthroat business.”

I roll my eyes and hold up my index finger, telling her I’ll be back in a minute, before weaving through the McIntyre house. There are a lot of people here—mostly Blake’s family, some friends from both of our schools, and fellow time travelers who know the McIntyres. They nod to me, tip their glasses, squeeze my shoulder—small signs to let me know that they know who I am and what I’m about.

It’s almost as if they’re on my side. Maybe they are, and I feel a sense of weightlessness knowing that.

I move into the backyard, where music is playing. Mom and Dad are talking to Mr. and Mrs. McIntyre, chatting in what seems like a friendly way.

“Took them long enough,” I mutter, waving to them as I walk out. Mom smiles. Claire raises her glass. Dad and Greg just nod. When I walk by them, I pick up a bit of their conversation.

“Brown has a good history program,” Greg says. “Maybe Andre would be interested in that? I can put in a good word.”

“Would you? That would be great. We’ve been thinking about taking a few college tours. Andre’s shown interest in political science and sociology too. We’re trying to put together a good list of schools for those programs.”

“Harvard and Tufts both have great programs.”

“I know, but I think he wants to make his own choice on this one. If he wants to stay close to home, that’s great. But we’re not going to force him.”

I don’t expect they’ll be throwing any joint parties anytime soon, but at least Mom is willing to put up with them. She still blames them for me not finishing my summer school classes, which is the reason I’m being held back a year. She blames Blake for being the reason why I’m no longer interested in medicine, but she understands, finally, that it’s my choice and that my future is my own.

Of course, she can never know the truth, and everyone has chosen to respect that. Sometimes a small lie is the best option.