“This wouldn’t be a research trip per se. This would be a Reinvention Trip.”
She says these last words with actual jazz hands. Before I can comment, she launches into what is very clearly a rehearsed motivational speech. “So you were knocked on your ass. So what? Do you think Taylor Swift gave up after her recording company screwed her over? No. She started rerecording her own albums and emerged as a new woman. Abetterwoman. And when peoplestilltried to dim her shine? Do you think she threw in the towel?No. She slapped the world back with her Eras Tour.”
“Thank you for this enlightening history of your favorite pop star, but I’m not going to Alaska.”
I push my stool back to get up, but she grabs my wrist, shackling me across the kitchen island. She stares at me with the surprising ferocity of a honey badger. “No, Margot.You’remy favorite pop star, and that’s exactly why you have to go.”
I meet my sister’s light brown eyes, a perfect mirror of my own.
“You can’t give up writing,” she declares, tightening her grip. “I won’t let you, because you’re too good at it and you love it too much. If you’re not allowed to write romance anymore, then you just need to try something else. You need to get away and find out what that is.”
Against my will, my mind conjures an alternate universe in which going to Alaska is a possibility, and what it would mean for me.A fresh start. An opportunity to write something new. No meet-cutes. No perfect endings. An escape from L.A. and the Category 4 shitstorm that is your life. Alaska.With every new thought, Savannah’s unhinged plan somehow makes more and more sense to me. Something like hope—or maybe it’s just desperation—blooms in my chest. That is until the hard boot heel of reality comes down and crushes it like a cigarette butt.
“But I can’t leave you,” I say.
At this, Savannah only smiles and lets go of my wrist. She’sprepared for this. “Oh, yes, you can. You forget, dear sister, that I have a wonderfully devoted boyfriend. Cooper is going to stay here with me.”
The words “No. Absolutely not” jerk out of me.
“Why not?” Van says simply. “I’m twenty-eight, not sixteen. I pay rent—”
“Which I’ve never asked for—”
“Which entitles me to have guests over.”
“And what happens if you have another flare?” I demand.
“Then I have another flare! Cooper and Mom are more than willing to help me.”
I bite my lip. “And how long does this scheme of yours dictate that I’d be away? A week?”
Savannah lets out a laugh like I’m an adorable simpleton. “Aweek? No. You’ll be gone for six weeks.”
I choke on my coffee, which I’d sipped in an attempt to look poised. I’m justwinningat life over here.
“Six weeks?” I manage eventually. “No, no. You’ve lost your sweet little mind.”
“Au contraire,” she says, wagging her pointer finger at me. “My mind has never produced such genius. Six weeks is exactly what you need to produce your next manuscript.”
Despite the lunacy of this plan, my mind is racing. After everything that’s just happened to me, there’s only one thing I want to write about:murder. A grisly departure from the saccharine stories I’ve been writing for years, and an outlet for my true-crime podcast addiction. Already, the beginnings of a story are swirling like mist in my mind. A murder set in a remote Alaskan landscape. A frozen body found years later by backwoods hikers. A down-on-her-luck detective sent on probation with something to prove.
I glance up to see Savannah with two fists against her mouth, holding in her excitement, and it’s the final nail in my coffin.
“Okay,” I say on a sigh, resigned to never being able to deny my sister anything. “I’ll consider it.”
Savannah squeals, and the biggest smile I’ve seen from her in months blasts across her face. “Oh, thank God! Because I already booked it!”
“You didwhat?”
“You’re leaving in five days! And don’t worry, I know Alaska’s cold in November, but I already ordered you all the gear you’ll need.”
I’m stunned into speechlessness. Savannah comes around the kitchen island and gently lays her hands on my shoulders. “I know this is a lot to take in. But you always take care of me, Margot. This time let me take care of you. Please.”
I stare into my sister’s eyes and see a capableness and determination I’ve rarely seen there. I swallow.
“Okay. Alaska it is.”
2MARGOT
