Page 6 of My Twin Sister

I smile despite myself.

He tilts his head toward the gravesite. “Sorry about your dad. Tough timing. I’m sure he wished he’d been able to hang on just a little longer to see your face again.”

I swallow. “Yeah. I wish I would have come back sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?” Tara asks.

My mouth opens, then closes without having said anything.

Geny clears her throat. “Maybe a conversation for another time, guys.”

Tara takes half a step back. “Of course. Sorry. It’s good to see you, Grace.”

“You too, Tara. And you, Murphy.”

Tara hugs me again, but this time I’m prepared for it. I hug her back, and they step aside. As they do, I lock eyes with Wyatt. He’s holding their youngest son with his right arm, and their oldest stands beside him. He looks away quickly, turning his focus to Geny.

He goes to her, wraps her into his arms where she all but disappears. My heart pounds in my ears, being this close to him. Getting another whiff of his cologne sends unwanted memories flashing through my mind. Being teenagers, in love and infatuated. Everything more intense. Everything great or horrible, scalding or frigid, ecstasy or torture. There were no in-betweens back then.

I look down at my shoes, so I don’t have to see it anymore, taking in my black heeled Converse ankle boots. Nothing I would have worn when I was younger. I preferred sneakers or being barefoot. I guess Geny isn’t the only one who didn’t end up as expected.

I gather my nerve to look up again and stare straight into the face of Wyatt and Geny’s oldest son. I don’t even know his name. But he’s got my eyes — Geny’s eyes. And Wyatt’s mouth and brow line.

He looks gorgeous and sad and confused, and I have the overwhelming urge to hug him even though I spent the last twenty minutes trying to avoid hugs.

I don’t hug him, of course. That would be weird. I’m his zombie aunt that he’s never met before. His father’s ex-girlfriend. Though he probably doesn’t know that.

Eight: Geny

The funeral is over and everything inside of me aches. My mind and emotions are being pulled in a million different directions. I can’t fully mourn my dad because I can’t fully process the fact that my sister is alive and next to me eighteen years after losing her. The weight of all my decisions after that day, and even before, are suddenly too heavy to hold. I want to ask her a million questions. More than anything, I want to run and never stop running.

But I was never the runner. That was Grace.

What happened that night on the beach? Why has she been gone for so long?

I turn to her as people filter out of the cemetery, dragging their feet, wanting to witness whatever is going to happen between me and Grace.

“Let’s go home,” I say. “We need to talk.”

I ask Grace to give me just a minute, and I go to where Wyatt and the boys wait for me next to the car. I hand him the keys. “Take the boys home. Grace and I are going to walk.”

Wyatt stares at the keychain in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the plastic-encased photo of our family that Jack got for me as a Christmas gift when he was eight. “Are you sure you want to do this alone? I can be with you if you want.”

I shake my head. “No.” I say. “Sorry. I have to talk to her alone. I’ll be okay.”

He nods. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

He leans down to kiss me. I hesitate but try to recover quickly. He notices. The kiss is short and awkward. I hug Jack and pull his head to me, kissing his forehead. He’s taller than me, and I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. It doesn’t matter that he’s filling out college applications, I’ll always see him as my little boy.

Carter holds his arms out to me. I pick him up, hugging him and kissing the side of his face. “I love you guys. I’ll be home in just a little while, okay?”

“Who is that lady, Mom? She looks just like you,” Carter says.

“That’s Aunt Grace,” Jack says. “Mom’s sister.”

I open my mouth, but I can’t breathe, let alone speak. Hearing the words out loud is dizzying.