After all of our shared experiences and our parents’ cajoling, it has been our hardships that have softened us to each other. Losing my husband and the challenges of raising Marie’s twins are the things that have brought us together.

“I’m just glad that things between us are the way they are now,” Marie says. “I’m very, very glad.”

“Me, too,” I say.

Instinctively, I grab Marie’s hand and hold it for a moment and then we break away.

It is hard to be so honest, so vulnerable, so exposed. But I find that it always leads you someplace freer. I feel the smallest shift between my sister and me, something almost imperceptible but nevertheless real. We are closer now than we were just three minutes ago.

“I’ve been thinking about writing again,” Marie says, changing the subject.

“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Writing what?”

She shrugs. “That’s the part I’m not sure about. I just need to do something, you know? Anything that is not revolving around my kids. I need to get back to me, a little bit. Anyway, it might be a dumb idea because I say that I want to start writing again but I can’t find anything I want to write about. I’m not inspired. I’m just . . . well, bored.”

“You’ll find something,” I say. “And when you do, it will be great. Just don’t make it a murder mystery where you pin the murders on a character that is clearly supposed to be me, like you did back then,” I say, teasing.

She laughs, shaking her head at me. “No one ever believed me that it wasn’t supposed to be you,” she says.

“You named her Emily.”

“It’s a common name,” Marie says, pretending to defend herself. “But, yeah, OK. I’m mature enough now to admit that might not have come from a totally innocent place.”

“Thank you,” I say magnanimously.

“I was just so annoyed that you were always copying me.”

“What?” I say. “I was never copying you. I was basically the opposite of you.”

Marie shakes her head. “Sorry, but no. Remember when I got really into TLC? And suddenly, you started telling everyone you loved ‘Waterfalls’? Or when I had a crush on Keanu Reeves? And then suddenly, you had his picture up over your bed?”

“Oh, my God,” I say, realizing she’s totally right.

“And then, of course, you went and started dating the captain of the swim team. Just like me.”

“Whoa,” I say. “That honestly never occurred to me. But you’re totally right. You and Graham. And then me and Jesse.”

Marie smiles, half laughing at me. “See?”

“I must have really wanted to be like you,” I say. “Because I thought Graham was so lame. And then I went and also dated the captain of the swim team.”

Marie lifts her tea to her mouth, smiling. “So, I think we can agree that on some level, you’ve always wanted to be me.”

I laugh. “You know what? If being you means having just the one man in your life, I’ll take it.”

“Boohoo,” she says. “Two men love you.”

“Oh, shut up,” I say as I find a dish towel and throw it at her.

Our laughter is interrupted by Mike coming down the stairs with Sophie behind him and Ava on his hip.

“Breakfast!” he says to the girls, and I see Marie reanimate, opening up the refrigerator, ready for the day.

I know when to excuse myself.

“I’m around if you need anything today,” Marie says as I gather my things. “Seriously. Just call. Or stop by. I’m here for you.”

“OK,” I say. “Thank you.”

She gives me a hug and then picks up Sophie into her arms. I head out the door.

On the way back to my parents’, my phone dings. I’m not sure who I thought would be contacting me but I definitely wasn’t expecting a text message from Francine.

So excited to see you again that I didn’t sleep all night. This is Jesse, btw. Not my mom. Pretty weird if my mom couldn’t wait to see you.

When I’m done reading it, I notice that my feet walk faster toward the door to my parents’ house.

I rush my warm shower. I rush the shampoo through my hair, rush the soap over my body.

I rush putting on clothes and getting out the door.

I rush all of it, every second. There is a kick in my step and a smile on my face.

I am happy. In this brief moment of time. I am happy.

When I pull my car into the parking lot of Julie’s Place a little before seven thirty, Jesse is standing right in front. He’s even earlier than I am.

He looks just like he used to, even if he does look totally different.

I open my car door, step out into the cold, and I realize just why this morning feels a little bit better than the others recently.

It’s finally OK to love him.

It’s OK to love Jesse.

I have been given the freedom to do that.

Sam did that for me.

What else did you miss?” I ask Jesse as the waitress brings us our breakfasts. He’s been listing everything he missed about home.

I was number one.

The sweet-and-sour chicken at the tacky Chinese restaurant in the middle of town was number two.

“I mean, there are so many people and places, but right now, honestly, all I can think about is the food.”

I laugh. “So tell me, then; tell me all the food.”

“All right,” he says, looking down at his plate. He has barely touched his meal and I can’t blame him. I can’t focus on actually eating right now, either. My stomach is in knots, flooded with butterflies, twisting and turning to try to keep up with the flutter in my heart.

“Oh, God. There are just too many to name. How can I choose? I mean, there’s the pizza at Sorrentos, the Snickers sundae from Friendly’s, the sandwiches at Savory Lane . . .”

“Savory Lane closed,” I tell him. “Actually, Friendly’s did, too.”

He looks at me, focused on my eyes, trying to figure out if I’m messing with him. When he sees that I’m serious, a flash of sorrow wipes across his face. He quickly replaces it with a smile, but I wonder if maybe it’s all the evidence he needs that the world went on without him, that we couldn’t even keep Savory Lane going as a courtesy.

“Friendly’s is now a Johnny Rockets,” I tell him. “It’s good, though. Plus, you know, once Kimball’s opens in the spring, you’re not going to be thinking about a Snickers sundae. You’re gonna be thinking about two scoops of black raspberry ice cream in a waffle cone.”

Jesse smiles and then looks away from me, shifting his body toward the counter and away from our table, repositioning his legs. “What about Erickson’s? Is that still open? Or have they forsaken me, too?”

The way he says it, the word “forsaken,” and the fact that he doesn’t look at me, it all adds up to make me think Jesse’s angrier than he’s letting on. That he does resent me for moving on. He says he understands, but maybe he doesn’t really understand at all.

“They are still open, yeah,” I say, nodding, trying to please him. “Most stuff is still open. Most stuff is still the same.”

“Most stuff,” he says, and then he changes his tone. “And Blair Books? Is Blair Books the same? I mean, clearly there’s new management.”

“Yeah,” I say, smiling, proud of myself. “Although I’ve kept it mostly the same. And my parents are still involved a bit. It’s not like I’ve gone rogue. I do things pretty much the way they did them.”

“Do you even put out those little ‘Travel the World by Reading a Book’ bookmarks?”

“Yes!” I say. “Of course I do.”

“What? No way!”

“Yeah, totally.”

I have pushed the food around my plate. He’s pushed his around his. Neither one of us has taken so much as a bite. When the waitress comes over, she frowns.

“Looks like you aren’t very hungry,” she says as she pours more water in my glass.

“It’s delicious,” I say. “But we’re just . . .”