"I need time," I said.
"Take all the time you need."
"But Emma..." I squeezed her hand. "You're still my best friend. Even if you're also my sister. Even if everything is messed up. You're still my person."
She hugged me so tight I couldn't breathe.
That was a year ago.
Mom and Patricia don't speak. They handled the estate through lawyers and haven't exchanged a word since.
Emma and I meet every Sunday for brunch. We're still figuring out how to be sisters. Some days it's easy. Some days I look at her and see my father's lies.
But mostly, I see my best friend.