Page 283 of The Winslow Brothers

The Secret

Nearly nine months later…

Friday, January 4th

Rachel

A New York winter night is the kind ofcoldthat makes men’s balls disappear and women’s nipples freeze right off. It’s as if the massive concrete structures and pavement have given up all their heat in some sort of ritual sacrifice, leaving them—and us—with only ice.

My knees shiver and shake as we head down the sidewalk toward a nightclub with velvet ropes and a long line of people waiting outside, surely turning any piece of sexiness in my walk into the likes of a newborn filly.

“Yep.” My sister, Lydia, flashes a giddy grin at me. “It’s going to be a good night,” she says, brushing her long brown hair over her shoulder. “I can feel it in my bones.”

“That’s interesting. Because the only thing I can feel in my bones is the expansion of ice.”

Lydia snorts in a way that’s contagious and manages to put a smile on my lips.

Halfway toward our destination, my phone vibrates inside my purse, and I shimmy the zipper to check the screen like the psychopathic technology addict I am. I’d like to say I could live without my phone—with only the books and brilliance of the olden days—but my entire adult skill set is a little too wrapped up in Google searches.

Dad: Despite it being last minute, I managed to get a dorm secured for you on campus.

I sigh, knowing thelast minuteremark is meant to be a dig at my time management and planning. Still, tonight’s meant to be fun, unclouded by drama with my dad, so I try to respond in a pleasant manner.

Me: Dad, I appreciate that, but as I already told you, I have an apartment.

Dad: I think it would be easier for you to focus on your studies if you were on campus. The commute alone would save you a lot of time.

Always pushing. Always prodding. No admission that I’ve told him what’s going on and it’shewho has neglected to listen. That’s my father, all right. At least, that’s how he’s been since I was old enough to communicate.

“Who are you texting with?” Lydia asks, and I pointedly shove my phone back into my purse.

“No one of importance.”

Harsh, sure. But for tonight, at least, true. Our history is complicated—in a way that could never come close to getting solved with one text exchange. Basically, figuring out how tocome to a truce with my father will require an extensive examination of all my life’s choices, including, but not limited to, how I ended up back here, exactly where he wants me.

And that’s not what tonight is about. It’s about having a good time with my sister Lydia and her wife Lou.

After eight long years of being on the West Coast, I am officially back in New York. The city where I grew up. The city that holds all the memories of my youth. The one place that still has the power to make me think of my mother.

Somehow, I feel lost and found at the same time.

The three of us walk arm in arm past the long line of people behind the velvet rope, through a cloud of cigarette smoke and visible puffs of air that only come from your breath when it’s cold enough to be considered a crime, and straight toward the front of the new nightclub that’s apparently all the rage in this city.

A bouncer in a black puffer jacket and a beanie stands at the front of Orchid’s entrance, holding a clipboard. He notes our arrival with a quirk of his brow, and Lydia is quick to hold up her gold-embossed invitation that led us here.

He offers one curt nod and unclips the velvet rope standing between us and the entrance.

My sister’s smile consumes her whole face. “Is it just me, or is this the perfect way to celebrate the fact that Rachel is finally back home?”

I’ll be honest, my one and only older sister is the best. There’s something about her that always makes me feel good. She’s theglass half-full, positive, happy person who brightens everything and everyone around her.

“I agree, hun,” my sister-in-law Lou responds and turns her head to grin at me. “I’m really glad you’re back in New York, Rae.”

“You two act like I never came home to visit,” I retort on a laugh. “I was here nearly every Thanksgiving and Christmas. Even managed several summer trips, too.”

“Yeah, but occasional trips are not the same as youlivinghere,” Lydia interjects as the three of us walk past the bouncer.

Lou holds open the door for Lydia and me, scooting us inside and into the kind of warmth that makes my body shiver from the abrupt shift from the frigid outside temperature.

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