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Afterward, their dad had forbidden her from seeing them, which meant it was the last summer of the road trips, the last summer the country revealed itself through the window of the ramshackle Honda, the four of them fighting over who got shotgun, the other three jammed in the backseat, their mother's hair whipping in the breeze from the open window and the Rolling Stones on repeat in the cassette player.

It was the last summer of a lot of things.

And now, all these years later, the Endicotts have managed to split themselves apart for a third time—only this is somehow even worse. Because both their parents are gone now, and they have no one to blame but themselves.

Gemma begins the walk home empty-handed. When she reaches their brownstone, she sits down on the cool of the front stoop, wrapping her jacket tightly around herself, watching an endless stream of kids hurry by on their way to school. She sees an older sister pause at the crosswalk to wait for her younger brother, a hand outstretched, and she remembers her own days shepherding the other three to school, walking along the edge of the road in a wobbly line, Gemma and then Connor and then Roddy and Jude, side by side as always.

Her phone buzzes with another text, and she looks down, expecting it to be Mateo asking if she's okay. But it's Jude again.

Please, Gem. It's important.

She was thirteen when Jude was eight and started having nightmares. Gemma knows she could've gone to Roddy, who was in the bunk right below her, or their dad, who was just down the hall, but it was her bed that Jude would climb into every night, burrowing in beside her to fall into a feverish sleep, her body blazing with heat. All night, she'd toss and turn and kick, but Gemma never minded; she just held her tighter, waiting until her little sister had drifted off before she closed her own eyes.

When she walks back into the condo, Mateo is sitting on the couch with a copy of the 'Tribune.' Her suitcase, which they usually keep in the basement storage locker, is on the floor beside him. He looks at her with a tentative smile.

Gemma walks over and runs a hand lightly over the handle. "How did you know?"

"Because," he says, "I know you. And I know this is important."

She sinks down onto the couch beside him, leaning her head against his broad chest as she works her way up to her next question. "You don't mind?" she asks, motioning toward her stomach. "That I won't be here when we find out?"

He kisses the side of her head. "You'll be right where you're supposed to be."

She laughs. "In North Dakota?"

"With your family," he says, and Gemma thinks back to the last time she saw her siblings before their big fight: they'd all flown to L.A. for a premiere of Jude's, and had watched with a mixture of awe and amusement as she worked her magic on the red carpet. Afterward, they settled into the darkened theater to watch, but only ten minutes into the film, Gemma felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Jude motioning for them to follow her. Instead of the movie, they went out for dumplings, and instead of the after-party, they headed back to her suite at the Four Seasons to drink champagne and eat the chocolate strawberries the studio had sent her. They stayed up most of the night, laughing and talking and catching up, reminiscing about their strange childhood and the even stranger turns their lives had taken, and then the sun began to rise over downtown Los Angeles, and they stepped out onto the balcony to watch, the four of them lined up in a row, the sky a riot of pink and orange, the palm trees turning to silhouettes.

"If anyone asks," Jude told them, "you loved the film."

"It was brilliant," Gemma said with a nod.

"Best thing I've seen in ages," Roddy agreed.

"I have some notes," Connor added, and Jude swatted at him, laughing.

Gemma twists to look at Mateo now, her throat tight. "Thank you," she says, grateful that he understands. "Though I'm sorry to miss the science fair."

"That's okay," he says, and his eyes shift to her stomach again, his expression so tender it makes her a little panicky. "There's only one experiment I care about right now anyway."

She manages a smile. "Don't tell the hairy potato."

"Wouldn't matter anyway," he says. "Potatoes only have eyes. No ears."

In spite of herself, Gemma laughs. "You're such a nerd."

"Which is why you love me."

"I really do," she says, and she leans over to kiss him.