Next to me, India sighs happily. Then she swings her head over to look at me. “I feel like we should be having a deep, soul-to-soul conversation up here.” She jerks her chin at the admittedly incredible sight in front of us. “Don’t you?”

“Kind of,” I admit.

“Beauty like this…” She hums and shakes her head. “It invites connection. Doesn’t it? People go to beautiful places to connect. Even them”—she nods toward the other cars parked sporadically down the row, inside of which the occupants are surely not keeping their hands to themselves—“they’re all kissing each others’ faces off. Connection.”

And a brief image flashes into my mind—India and I, arms around each other in the back seat of my car, the two of us kissing each others’ faces off?—

I startle, my eyes popping wide open as I lurch upright so violently I almost topple off the hood.

“Whoa,” India says from next to me, and I can hear her expression even though I’m not looking at her. I bet she’s got one eyebrow cocked at me, an amused smile on her lips.

And, when I turn to her after settling myself back in place, I see that I’m right. The eyebrow, the curl of her lips, all of it.

“Lost my footing,” I say.

She stares at me. “We’re sitting.”

“It’s just an expression.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hums skeptically.

“So,” I say, inhaling deeply and trying to calm my pulse. Why on earth did my brain go there? Why is my heart trying to speed up? “Let’s have a conversation, then. What do you want to talk about?” I lean back once more, reclining against the windshield next to her. I ignore the press of her arm against mine and focus instead on the dazzling sea of lights below.

“Hmm,” she says. “Tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Perfect,” I say as relief crashes over me. “I can do secrets.” Secrets are much, much safer than whatever that mental blip was. “Um…oh.” I blink as I realize. “I don’t know if I actually have any secrets.”

“Oh, sure you do,” she says easily. “Everyone has secrets.”

She’s probably right. “Okay. Let me think,” I say. “Secrets, secrets, secrets…oh, I have one, maybe. It’s embarrassing. Are you ready?”

She turns her head toward mine, her expression serious. “I have never been more ready for anything in my life.”

I laugh. “Okay. Here it is: My very earliest crush that I can remember was Nala fromLion King.”

India laughs too, a sudden burst of sound that dissipates into the evening, and I briefly imagine that sound mingling with the air above and then falling like rain—little droplets of sunshine, echoes of joyous mirth.

“Look,” she says, her smile wide, “I sort of don’t blame you. Nala had major bedroom eyes when she and Simba reunited.”

“Didn’t she?” I say enthusiastically, looking over at India. “When they were frolicking in that field?”

“Absolutely,” she says, still breathless with laughter. “She totally did.”

I nod. “Thank you. I feel validated.”

“But you know,” India says, “that’s not really a secret. It’s just a cute little-kid story.”

“You go, then,” I say, staring out at the view. “I just told you something very serious and very personal. The least you could do is—” I break off, laughing again as she jabs me with her elbow.

“All right,” she says. The warm breeze plays with a few strands of her hair that have fallen around her face, and she pushes them aside. “Let’s see…well. Okay.” She glances at me just briefly and then looks ahead of us again. “This isn’t really a secret. But it’s an admission. Does that count?”

“You made the rules,” I say, flipping my palm down to soak up some of the lingering heat from the hood of my SUV. It’s starting to get a little chilly now that the sun is well below the horizon.“If you want it to count, it counts.”

“Good point. I’m making the rules,” she says. “Okay. Here goes.” She takes a deep breath, exhales, and then speaks. “Sometimes—I don’t know.” A beat of silence, and then, “Sometimes I worry I’m the boring one in my family.”

My snort escapes me before I can stop it.

“Hey,” India says, frowning at me. “I’m being vulnerable here?—”