“Jeez, Karen. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Can you blame me? Your track record’s hardly reassuring and Hil despairs of you ever settling down. After what Lawrence did to Alice, she deserves—”
“A friend,” Dan said with uncharacteristic firmness. “And that’s what we are. Good friends who have fun together.”
His declaration didn’t reassure her. “Surely, it would only be a special friend she’d tell about her new job ahead of her family?”
“Maybe she wanted to tell someone who thought it was good news.”
His softly spoken words stung. “Alice needs a real job and a real boyfriend, Dan. Not a string of temporary positions or a temporary man.”
“I know you changed my diaper a few times, Karen, but we’re not kids anymore. Alice tried security and it vanished on her. Right now, she’s embracing temporary.”
Anger propelled her to her feet. “And you’re encouraging her because it suits you!”
Dan’s almost permanently relaxed demeanor tensed and he glanced out the window as if needing to glimpse blue sky, green trees and turquoise sea. “Alice and I have only ever been honest with each other, Karen. I get that as her mom what you consider temporary scares you, but not everyone can be tied down.”
“Of course you’d say that! Your life’s a series of short-term jobs and convenient relationships. Why did this have to be the year you chose to winter in town instead of working on the ski fields?”
“The point I’m trying to make here,” Dan continued, ignoring Karen’s rudeness, “is that you and Libby are very similar, but Alice is …” A soft smile lifted his lips. “Alice. You can’t press her into a mold that doesn’t suit her.”
Except Dan didn’t understand Alice like Karen did. He hadn’t spent years helping her achieve things he’d taken for granted only to almost lose her to a dark and terrifying place. He hadn’t been the one worrying about her for another decade until she’d finally found her feet and established herself in a career she loved. The only thing that protected Alice from that dark place was the mold of security and permanency. As her mother, it was Karen’s job to make sure she found it again.
Libby was sprawled across a picnic blanket on the beach and concentrating on nothing but her body. The breeze on her skin, the pressure and release of the salt-laden air entering and exiting her lungs, the touch of rough sand on her feet and the kiss of spring sunshine radiating through her hat.
Remembering what she’d learned at the couples’ workshop, she’d been striving each day to carve out some time to just be. Usually, it was a struggle to manage ten minutes, but on this glorious Tuesday afternoon, she’d been gifted twice as long, because Alice was running late. Afternoon clinic started at 2:00 so if her twin didn’t arrive soon, she’d miss lunch completely.
“Sorry.”
Libby felt Alice plonk herself down on the rug. She rolled onto her side, letting the hat fall, and squinted at her sister. “Don’t be sorry. I’ve had a blissful and demand-free break.”
“In that case, I totally planned to give it to you. It had nothing to do with me getting so engrossed in planning my first public mural that I lost track of time.” Alice’s stomach rumbled. “Did you leave me some lunch?”
“In the cooler.” Libby sat up, slid on her sunglasses and pulled her hat down low as Alice bit into her sandwich. “Al?”
“Hmm.”
“I’m sorry I overreacted about Jess and the winter solstice thing.”
Alice stopped chewing and swallowed, unable to hide her surprise. “Thank you.”
“I should have apologized weeks ago.”
“Hmm. What made you decide to do it today?”
“Nick and I have been learning about how we react to things. For a while, anything to do with that woman flooded me with so much anger I couldn’t differentiate between innocent parties and guilty. Everyone got caught up in my personal thunderstorm, including you.” Libby twiddled her wedding band, gathering her words. “Relearning trust is hard, but I need to apologize, especially to you, because you’ve never let me down. You’re my twin. You’ve always been there for me.”
“Right from the start.” Alice hugged her. “And I still am. So how are things between you and Nick?”
“Improving.” The word felt wrong, not seeming to account for the massive distance they’d travelled in the last six weeks. “Actually, things are a lot better. I have whole days when I don’t think about her and what she did to us. I’m sleeping better.”
“That’s got to help.”
“Yeah. We still have our moments. It’s embarrassing to realize we’d always congratulated ourselves on our communication, but Dom’s death showed us we had no idea. We’re trying hard to use the tools they taught us at the group. We’re working on really hearing what the other person is feeling instead of pretending to listen while we plan what we’re going to say the moment the other stops talking.”
“Is it helping?”
“I think so. There’s less blame. I know it sounds grandiose, but some days we’re doing marriage better than we’ve ever done it before. The girls are definitely more settled.”
“That’s got to be a relief. And Leo too?”
Everything inside Libby tightened. “Right now, he’s not my concern.”
Alice chewed her bottom lip. “But he will be?”
“Nick and I are having sex again,” she said, desperate to change the subject. The moment the words rushed out she remembered how Alice always got embarrassed talking about sex, which was why she’d always talked to—Her mind recoiled from the thought.
“That’s wonderful.” Alice’s smile wobbled a little at Libby’s expression. “Isn’t it?”
“It feels a lot like make-up sex.”
Alice laughed. “How can that be bad?”
“It isn’t bad. It’s just … different. Before all of this, we never argued enough to need make-up sex. Sometimes it feels like we’re trying
