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Okay, I’ll have it all sent to your email.

I’ll pay you back.

I press send on that last message and feel physically ill at not having some extra savings I can dip into when I need it.

There’s no rush.

Needing a moment, I find a nearby seat and fall into it, just breathing.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I rub a hand over my chest, trying to rid myself of the ache and heaviness resting there. I’m hurting for Zara, hurting for me, hurting for us. It feels like a chasm has formed between us overnight. One day our whole lives lined up, and the next everything was off center.

Another text comes through as I sit there, only it isn’t from Remy, Raine, or Nina.

Zara: I miss you.

It’s bittersweet to read and bittersweet to respond, but I know I will anyway, because I do miss her. Somedays it feels like I miss her endlessly. I missed her before I knew why she was going to Seattle, and I miss her even more now that I do.

With a heavy heart, my fingers move back and forth, type and delete, settling on the only thing that rings true.

I miss you too.

30

ZARA

“Mom, are you okay?”

It was the seventh time Raine asked me, and at this point I’m not sure what answer she wanted me to give her. I’m not okay. Not even close. And every time she asks, I crumble that little bit more inside.

“Yeah, babe, I’m fine.” I quickly run my hands through my hair, attempting to style it. “More importantly, how are you?”

“I’m good,” she says, and I can hear the truth of her answer in the tone of her voice.

She’s my inspiration. Her impressive ability to coexist with her grief and to incorporate Lola into her everyday life without it hurting too much never ceases to amaze me. It could be her age but is probably because she’s more like Jesse that way, and in this instance I’m glad.

A phone beeps and annoyance trickles through me when I notice it isn’t mine. I’ve texted Clementine a few times since arriving and have received no response. And even though she doesn’t owe me one, it’s so unlike her, it puts me on edge.

Raine’s fingers fly across her screen, and it takes everything in me not to ask who it is. She’s been on it all morning, and my mind has gone through a million different scenarios, every one worse than the one before. It’s irrational and completely over the top, but being here is a lot more stress inducing than I’d prepared myself for.

If I let myself think about it, I could admit that I should’ve asked Clementine to come.

We’re staying at Jesse and Leo’s place this weekend. Me in the guest room and Raine in her childhood bedroom. I’d wanted to book a night in a hotel, to give myself a place to decompress, away from prying eyes, but secrets in this family are too hard to hide, and my absence would be suspicious.

“How much longer do we have till we leave?” I ask Raine, grabbing my toiletries bag.

“Dad said we have to be at the cemetery by eleven and then we have a lunch reservation when we’re done,” she answers.

Nodding, I head to the main bathroom to finish off my hair and makeup. My eyes are tired and flat, both things I haven’t seen in my reflection since moving to L.A. I hate how uncomfortable I feel in my own home, because that’s what this place is. With Raine and Jesse and Leo, my home is wherever they are. And I should be at my happiest with them.

And yet, it has never been more obvious how incomplete my home is, now that I’m here without Clementine.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and I put the last coat of waterproof mascara on my eyelashes before opening up.

Jesse stands on the other side. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I answer wearily. “Everything okay?”