Page 111 of The Do-Over

“Not yet. But don’t you worry about your sister. She’s gonna be just fine, you can quote me on that.”

The knock came at ten o’clock that night. I opened the door to three suitcases and Phee in sweatpants.

“I broke up with Joel,” she said.

“I saw.”

“He’s a weaselly, insecure, lying liar.”

I leaned against the doorframe. “I heard.”

“The thing is, I don’t have a place to live anymore and, well…”

“You could always move in with Mom,” I said.

“I’m not sure Mom will be speaking to me for the rest of my life. That might make things awkward.”

“Good point. I have a spare room.”

For the first time, she smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

She took two steps inside and threw herself at me. For a stunned moment, I froze and then wrapped my arms around her. “Thank you for being there for me,” she said, her voice stilted, and I realized she was crying. “I know I didn’t want to listen, but…”

“Don’t cry,” I said, my heart swelling. She’d come to me, her sister, for comfort and support. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

She pulled back and gave me a watery smile, which made her look sad and beautiful all at once. “I’m not even crying over Joel or the job. I’m just relieved it’s done. I’m okay with whatever happens next. You taught me that.”

I blinked, confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” She sniffled. “You survived the break-up with Brent and quitting your job. You did it, so I can too. It’s like you gave me courage.”

“Oh, Phee.” Now I was the one with a watery smile.

“This year has changed you. You’re different, you’re living your life now, not what anyone else wants for you.”

I had been, anyway, and I would be again. Phee’s words only gave me more resolve.

She swiped at her cheeks and straightened. “Now, I’m expecting there to be a lot of ice cream and wine in your kitchen.”

“Well, of course. What else would I keep in there? Kale?” I said with a shiver of disgust.

Phee hooked her arm through mine. “Let’s go celebrate.”

And that’s how my sister moved in with me.

FORTY-FOUR

“You don’t have to like your family

but you do have to love them.”

—MIMI

The ring jolted me awake. I stared, wide-eyed, at the name of the caller: Mom. It was 11:37 p.m. on Thanksgiving Eve. It had been over two months since her name had appeared on my phone.

“Mom?”

“Persephone, did I wake you?”