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The laughter had relieved some of the anxiety that had held my chest in its iron grip for months. It was a relief to finally be able to breathe deeply. So what if I didn’t know what to do with the shop? It didn’t affect anyone other than me.

Suddenly dizzy, I slapped my hand on the floor to ground myself.

“What’s wrong?” Mac asked, peering down at me with a worried frown I’d seen far too often on his face these last few months.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “A bit lightheaded.”

His frown deepened. “Did you eat enough?”

“Plenty. I’m realizing that it’s just me now.”

“Dude, I’m right here,” Mac protested.

I laughed. “No, you oaf. I mean…” I waved my hand vaguely. “Going forward. It’s just me. No Mom. No aunts. No Jim. No one telling me what to do or think. Just… me,” I finished softly, overwhelmed by the implications. “I can do anything. Be anyone. If there’s no one left who cares what I do, that means there’s also no one I need to impress. It’s a weird feeling.”

“Huh,” Mac replied, cocking his head thoughtfully. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been in that situation. What’s that like?”

“Like I’m free-falling from a plane,” I replied after thinking it over for a minute. “And I have no idea if the parachute is going to open. So, heady and exhilarating and utterly terrifying at the same time.”

“Huh,” Mac repeated. “But you know you’re going to be okay, right?”

For months, I’d teetered on a precipice, staring out over an endless void. After a lifetime shuffling from one person’s expectations to the next, never making any decisions of my own, there was no road map stretching out in front of me. Just a whole lot of unknown. But I’d taken the first step, and I hadn’t died. Just like I hadn’t died when the worst thing I could have ever imagined had happened. So, maybe it wasn’t so far-fetched to think that I would be okay in the end.

“Maybe.” I shrugged. “If I’ve learned anything this year, it’s that I have no clue what the future holds.”

Mac leaned over to give my shoulder a quick squeeze. “Well, Gerald and I are only ever a phone call away. And there’s always a place for you in our home.”

I tried to picture myself in their impeccable apartment and laughed. “Thank you. But I promise, I’ll only crash on your couch as a last resort.”

“Phew!” he said, pretending to wipe his brow. “It’s going to take me a while to recover from sharing a room with you and your mess these last two weeks.”

“You were a paragon of patience,” I deadpanned. “You only complained six, seven times a day. Max.”

With a laugh, Mac spun around and flopped down beside me, laying his head upside down next to mine. We’d been grown-ups for a long time, but the movement transported me right back to the island in my aunt’s kitchen, under which Mac and I had hidden for most of our childhood.

As if he’d followed me down memory lane, Mac’s left hand rose to meet mine above our heads.

“Mac and Meg, two halves of one whole,” he murmured, wrapping a hand far larger than it had once been around my still relatively small one.

“Together, whenever, whatever,” I replied, squeezing his hand three times in quick succession, our secret childhood code for “I love you.” “Thank you for staying,” I added softly, hating how my voice broke a little on the last word.

Mac simply squeezed my hand and said, “Of course,” before changing the subject. “It’s good to hear you laugh. It’s been way too long since I heard you snort like that.”

I sighed. “Yeah, well…” The second half of what he said connected. “Hey! I did not snort!”

“Did too!” Mac replied, snorting extra loudly for effect, sending us both into a fresh bout of giggles.

When our chuckles subsided again, he reached over to gently pat my head. “That whole divorce thing was the absolute pits. I’m glad it’s all in the past. I’ve missed you, baby sister.”

He’d never liked my ex, probably because Mac always saw people’s true colors and had known just how toxic Jim had been from the get-go. I, of course, had refused to listen to his many warnings, lured by Jim’s charisma and the opportunity to get out from under my mother’s and aunts’ thumbs.

Jim’s charm had faded like poorly applied silver-plate on cheap costume jewelry, and it hadn’t taken long for me to go from performing for glimmers of my mother’s approval and attention to doing the same for my husband’s. He wielded silence as a weapon whenever he didn’t get his way, and I was so starved for attention that even a hint that I was about to be shut out was enough to make me capitulate.

In hindsight, it was astounding how easily he’d manipulated me into believing that I caused all the problems in our relationship, and how effectively he’d turned me into a hollow shell of my former self.

In my time, men acted like that every day that ended in Y. And we were expected to act grateful for the peace and quiet. Why’d you think I sent Wyatt packing as soon as I had your mama and her sisters?

I had no specific memory of hearing my grandmother say that, but I could hear her words ringing in my ears as clearly as if she’d been standing next to me, eyes sparking with sass and humor, lifting her ever-present cigarette to her lips for a prolonged drag. Still, the words tracked. According to the women in our family, men were only useful for reproducing.