silent. Lacey took the opportunity to peak into rooms as she walked down the hall. The girls shared a bedroom. Pink comforters on twin beds parallel to each other. A smaller room held a single bed, with cars scattered on the floor. A yellow car sat at the bottom of a ramp like it had been left mid-play. Lacey swallowed back the question as she dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen floor and shook out her hands.
Betsy placed her bags on the counter. “The kids are out with Mitchell. They’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
Whether or not she got to see them hung in the air. She took a breath. Pushed back on the urge to press her sister for some kind of invitation. “How’s his job hunt going?”
Betsy shrugged as she reached down to grab some milk. “It’s hard. There’s not a lot around. But he’s doing his best. Put applications in everywhere that has something going.”
“I hope he finds something soon.” She could buy this house. On her CEO package, she could probably buy every house on the street. She’d offered before she’d bought her parents’ house, but her sister hadn’t even replied to the email.
Betsy opened the fridge and dropped the milk containers into the door. “How about you? How’s Victor?”
Hearing his name so unexpectedly had her taking a step back. Like even those six letters could throw her off balance. She tried to cover up her response by reaching into the nearest bag and grabbing boxes of cereal. “I assume he’s fine.”
Her sister left the fridge door open and walked back to the counter for the next addition. “What do you mean, you assume he’s fine?”
Lacey shrugged. “We’re not a thing.”
“Wait. What? Betsy froze mid-reach into her bag. “You’re not a thing with the hot Brit who’s head over heels in love with you? The only guy you’ve ever brought here? The one who would literally walk over molten lava for you?”
Lacey couldn’t answer. Just trying to swallow past the boulder in her throat felt impossible. “It’s complicated, Bets. We work for the same company. We’re not allowed to date. He has a daughter. I live here. He’s in London.” All the excuses were as empty as the cupboard she shoved the cereal boxes into.
“But you love him, and he sure as anything loves you.”
“You can’t know that. We were here for literally five minutes.”
Betsy was silent as she loaded cheese and yogurt into the fridge, then closed the door. “I know that we haven’t been close for a long time but before that, we were as close as sisters could be. So I do know that.”
“How?”
Betsy studied her for a second, arms folded. “You don’t lean into anyone, Lacey. But you leaned into him.”
Even as she said it, Lacey could feel Victor holding her up as they stood at the end of the path, watching her nieces go back to their mom. His steady, unwavering presence had grounded her. If it hadn’t been for that, she probably would have been on the pavement.
“Maybe I’m not cut out for love.”
Her sister shook her head. “You can’t believe that. You love fiercer than anyone I’ve ever known. We haven’t lived in the same place for years. I don’t know any of your friends. But I still know that.”
Was it true? She didn’t even feel like she knew anymore. She thought she loved Anna and Libby and Rachel. But did she really? “But look at us. You’ve never forgiven me for what happened.” She managed to get the words out even as a wave of longing hit her. She’d always told herself that Betsy had made her choices, and she had made hers. But it had been years since she’d let herself think about how much she missed her big sister. What they had once had.
Betsy turned her back, crumbling the paper bag in her hands and then tossing it in the trash. “It’s not that I haven’t forgiven you, Lacey. But yes, it’s hard to forget you wanted me to abort Molly.”
Well, that was one interpretation of history. “I didn’t want you to abort Molly. I wanted you to do whatever you chose. I was supporting you. You were the one who brought it up, who said it was what you wanted. I never pressured you into anything. I just made the appointment. I always told you I would stand beside you, no matter what.” But she’d never tried to talk her out of