“Well, I get that, but the internet has been going wild.”

“Umm, that’s what I was avoiding.”

“Typical. Stick your head in the sand and everything will just take care of itself, right?”

Portia was instantly submerged in a sea of guilt, and the desire to hang up, to ignore Reggie’s reminder of her ultimate fuck-up: pulling away from her twin sister. But this time she didn’t. She stood with the portable phone and carried it with her into the bathroom of the suite.

“About that. There’s something I have to talk to you about.”

“Are you pregnant?” Reggie asked, a little less angry. “Because oh. Em. Gee. Everyone is so invested in this, that would blow their minds.”

“No!” Portia said, confused.

“Well, good. I’m too young to be an aunt.”

“Reggie! Look. Do you remember when you got sick?”

“Kind of hard. My brain was swelling and pressing against my skull. Not optimal for remembering things.” She said it so blandly that Portia might have thought she didn’t care.

“Well, I do remember. I’m sorry I didn’t come see you enough. I was selfish and cowardly and I ruined everything. I was a terrible sister, and everyone knew it, especially Mom and Dad.”

“What are you talking about? You were there all the time. Even when I couldn’t talk or move much, I’d open my eyes, and you’d be there.”

“I . . .” Portia’s throat closed up. She’d thought she was cried out, but some previously unknown well of tears had been tapped.

She remembered the Hot Mess Helper video about being too hard on yourself. If there’s one thing we’re good at, it’s feeling bad. Hell, sometimes we’ll take a tiny inconsequential thing and turn it into DRAMA for no damn reason. We’re so used to being wrong that we invent shit to be wrong about! ADHD is a trip.

“I don’t remember things that way,” she said.

“Yeah.” Reggie was silent for a bit. “Honestly, it was after I started my recovery that you stopped showing up. That really sucked, if you want to apologize.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Wait, why were you telling me this like it was a confession . . . ooooh fuck. Are you kidding me? Is that what all of this has been about? Guilt?” Reggie was incensed now. “You dumb motherfucker.”

“I thought you didn’t want me around,” Portia said.

“Well, I thought you were ashamed of me!”

Portia had never heard her sister cry—not during the physical therapy. Not when the temporary wheelchair became permanent. She’d always been cool, collected, and ready for all challenges. But she was gasping through a sob on the other end of the line now.

“Reggie, how could I be ashamed of you?” Portia asked. “You’ve always been this perfect golden child. You always go after what you want and get it no matter what. Everyone knows you’re amazing.”

“Why would I think that? Hm, maybe never wanting to spend time with me after I started using a wheelchair? Does that ring a bell?”

“That wasn’t why,” Portia said.

“You’re telling me all these years were wasted because you were too fucking stubborn to apologize for something I wasn’t even mad about?”

“I wasn’t stubborn! I was scared you would hate me even more.”

“What the fuck, Portia. More? What does that even mean, more?”

“Yes, more! Because everyone knows it should have been me who got sick instead of you!” She almost dropped the phone but somehow managed to avoid it, even as a wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. There it was, the thing everyone had always avoided saying—but never shied away from implying.

“God, I knew you were selfish, but I had no idea.” Reggie took a slow breath. “I’m happy with my life and I don’t want or need your pity. You of all people should know that. And guess what? I never thought it should have been you. Did you ever think of that? I was always glad it was me and not you. I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if something happened to you because I love you, you asshole! I mean, how would I have coped with thaa . . . and oh, I guess maybe I would have spent half a lifetime being a jerk, too.”

She laughed in frustration, but Portia was silent. She couldn’t talk. She’d already said too much.

“Portia.”

“Yeah?”

“I never hated you. Like, why? I obviously got all the good genes. You didn’t even know what a tardigrade was.”

Portia hiccupped out a laugh, and a little of the pain and fear that was all blocked up in her chest escaped with it.

Reggie sighed heavily. “Jesus. And I thought I was a masochist, trying to get your attention all these years. You’ve been carrying this half our lives.”

“I’m sorry,” Portia said. “I thought I was protecting you.”

“By pushing me away?”

“I didn’t say it made sense!” Portia dropped a hand onto her hip.

“You know, I should be mad. But I’ve done some nonsensical things myself lately. Speaking of which, the reason I’ve been blowing up your phone.”

Portia was unsurprised by Reggie’s pivot. Cool, calm snark was her general setting and she was sure the outbreak of emotion had thrown her off as much as it had Portia.