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what I haven’t done in all these years. Face our past head-on.
    She rests her hands on the table, picks at the nail polish as if she’s still not quite comfortable with its being there. “I don’t wanna live all my life messed up, y’know? I wanna be normal. To be happy.”
    Her hair feels like silk beneath my fingers. I remember the moment the midwife placed her tiny body in my arms, her skin still so hot from Mama’s body, it seemed to melt right through the blanket, joining itself to mine. “I hope that for you, Lily. I do.” She is so strong. She may be the youngest of all of us, but she’s also the toughest. The only one with this kind of courage.
    “You oughta hope it for you .” She turns the fortune around, lays it on the table in front of me so that I can’t help but read it. The advice is short, but applicable. A single line of type that sums up reality:
    Everything you want waits on the other side of fear.
    Those words cling to me as the evening goes on, and I fall asleep thinking about them, taunted by a smattering of print on a bit of fortune-cookie paper. A scrap, really, but it identifies the part of myself that I like least. My one fatal flaw.
    In the morning, the truth is still there, teasing the tip of my mind. I am a person who hides everything. Growing up, I learned to conceal myself behind a placid exterior. Stillness gives the appearance of confidence. I keep the inner voices hidden. I don’t want the rest of the world to hear what they say.
    But I can’t stop hearing them.
    How can I marry Evan if the outside is all I have to offer? He senses it, I know. Maybe that’s why he’s been pushing so hard on the impromptu wedding idea   —he suspects that impulsivity is our only hope.
    But I can’t be impulsive about this. Not when the hearts and futures of others hang in the balance. Evan has already been through enough tragedy in his life, and on top of that, there’s the little girl he’s now raising. Hannah desperately wants a mother figure. She wants her uncle Evan and me to settle down together, create a family. She prays for it daily. I know that because she tells me at least twice a week, either in person or via Skype, depending on our locations.
    “Oh, what is wrong with you!” I growl, running my fingers roughly into my hair and tugging until it hurts as I wait for Lily to finish grabbing a bagel at the breakfast buffet and make it to the car.
    The hotel door swishes open, and I find my composure so my sister won’t see the ongoing battle of self versus self. Outside input doesn’t help, and I already know Lily’s opinion anyway. She thinks I’m nuts for being here, rather than across the ocean. Maybe I am.
    In short order, we’re headed toward the Outer Banks. The day is clear and beautiful. We chatter about the sights, and Lily gasps in awe as we cross the bridge. The water looks inviting, even though it’s only March. Looks can be deceiving. The waves will still be chilly this time of year.
    As we reach the islands and begin the drive south and south and south, the scenery runs in direct conflict with the turmoil in my head. We pass seaside stores, massive beach houses towering on stilts, and rows of dunes that dwarf the sleek red car.
    Lily suggests we put the top down, so we do, even though it’s cool. The wind streams through our hair, and we look like we belong in this vacation paradise   —as if we could be the owners of one of these monstrous, multistory beach homes.
    Evan could buy one without even blinking an eye. Even that bothers me. There will be people who talk behind their hands. They’ll say I used my position as his editor to worm my way into his life. There are already rumors around the industry that I was the one who insisted on joining Evan’s book tour, not the other way around.
    I shouldn’t care, but the insecurities sneak in anyway. Growing up, being snickered at by the schoolkids because of my plaited hair and long, homemade dresses, I