"You have contract obligations," she says. "Family expectations. Your mom and Aunt Milly—"
A small laugh escapes me. "Are texting me constantly about you."
She looks up. Startled. "What?"
"Mom wants to know if you're 'the one.' Aunt Milly wants to know when she can have you over for dinner again. They haven't stopped since the family brunch."
"Grace likes you too," she says, and the vulnerability in her voice almost breaks me. "She told me on the phone. Called you 'disturbingly competent' and 'unfairly hot.'"
"She said 'unfairly hot'?"
"Her words."
"But you agree?"
She doesn't take the bait. "The point is—our families like each other. That makes it harder."
"Why harder?"
"Because if this doesn't work, it's not just us who gets hurt. It's Grace wondering what happened. It's your parents and aunt being disappointed." Her voice cracks.
Tears. Not sobbing—just quiet tears slipping down her face that she swipes at like they're inconvenient.
I close the space between us. Pull her against my chest.
She doesn't resist. Curls into me like she's been doing it for years.
"You couldn't disappoint them if you tried," I say against her hair. "They care about you because of who you are. Not because of what you do for me."
"That's not true."
"It is. Mom called you 'refreshingly authentic.' Milly said you're the first woman I've brought around who doesn't perform."
"I performed the entire brunch."
"No. You were yourself."
I pull back just enough to look at her. Brush tears off her cheeks with both thumbs.
"Jane. Listen to me."
She meets my eyes.
"I don't know what this looks like in the real world. I don't know if long distance works for us, or if timing screws everything. I don't know if we can make this last when we're not in a palm tree bubble playing pretend."
"That's not comforting."
"I'm not done."
"Okay."
"I know I want to try. I know you're the first person I've wanted to figure it out with in three years. I know watching you work makes me want to be better at everything I do. I know I don't want to go back to whatever my life was before January twenty-fourth."
Her breath catches.
"And I know—with absolute certainty—that you deserve someone who shows up. Who doesn't make you choose between your sister and your career and your own happiness. Who sees you—all of you—and doesn't ask you to be smaller."
"Are you trying to make me cry more?"
