I shook my head slowly. "Not like this."

She dashed at the moisture beneath her eyes with her fingertips. "You try to control people just like Mom does. Do you ever think about that?" Standing, she reached for Luke. "Give me the baby. I've got to go. I have a car and driver waiting."

I surrendered Luke, who had fallen asleep, and gathered up the diaper bag, tucking the board book inside. "I can help you get the stroller down to the car—"

"I don't need it. I've got a whole nursery filled with brand-new baby stuff."

"Don't leave angry," I said, suddenly breathless, my chest filled with cold, dry pain.

"I'm not angry. It's just. . ." She hesitated. "You and Mom are toxic to me, Ella. I know that's not your fault. But I can't see either of you and not remember the hell of our childhood. I need to fill my life with positive things. From now on it's going to be just me, Noah, and Luke."

I was so stricken that I could hardly speak. "Wait. Please." I leaned over the carrier and clumsily pressed my lips to the sleeping baby's head. "Goodbye, Luke," I whispered.

And then I stood back and watched my sister carry Luke away. She took him onto the elevator, and the doors opened and closed, and they were gone.

Moving like an old woman, I went back into the apartment. I couldn't seem to think of what to do. Mechanically I wandered into the kitchen and began to make tea that I knew I wasn't going to drink.

"It's over," I said aloud. "It's over."

Luke would wake up and I wouldn't be there. He would wonder why I had left him. The sound of my voice would fade from his memory.

My boy. My baby.

I accidentally scalded my fingers with the hot water, but the pain didn't really register. Some part of my mind worried over how badly I was dissociating. I wanted Jack . . . he might know how to break through the layers of ice around me . . . but at the same time, the thought of being with him filled me with dread.

I changed into my pajamas, and for the rest of the afternoon I watched TV without seeing or hearing anything. The phone rang, and the answering machine picked up. Before I glanced at the caller ID, I knew it was Jack. There was no way I could talk to him, or anyone, at the moment. I turned the volume down completely.

Recognizing that I needed to go through the motions of a normal routine, I made soup with powdered chicken broth and consumed it slowly, and followed it with a glass of wine. The phone rang again, and again, and I let the answering machine take it each time, until a half-dozen messages had been left.

Just as I considered going to bed, there was a knock at the door. It was Haven. Her dark brown eyes, so like her brother's, were filled with concern. She made no attempt to come inside, just slipped her hands in the pockets of her jeans and regarded me with infinite patience. "Hey," she said softly. "The baby's gone?"

"Yep. He's gone." I tried to sound matter-of-fact, but the last word stuck in my throat.

"Jack's been trying to call you."

The shadow of an apologetic smile crossed my lips. "I know. But I'm not in the mood for talking. And I didn't want to ruin his fishing trip with my bad mood."

"You wouldn't ruin his fishing trip—he just wants to know you're okay. He called me a few minutes ago and told me to come down here and check on you."

"Sorry. You didn't need to do that." I tried to smile. "I'm not outside on the ledge or anything. Just really tired."

"Yeah, I know." Haven hesitated. "Want me to stay with you for a little while? Watch a late show or something?"

I shook my head. "I need to sleep. I . . . thanks, but no."

"Okay." Her gaze was warm and searching. I shrank from it like a nocturnal creature avoiding sunlight. "Ella. I've never had a baby, and I don't know exactly what you're going through . . . but I do know about loss. And grief. And I'm a good listener. Let's talk tomorrow, okay?"

"There's really nothing to say." I had no intention of talking about Luke ever again. It was a closed chapter in my life.

She reached out and touched my shoulder lightly. "Jack's getting in around five tomorrow," she said. "Maybe even sooner."

"I probably won't be here," I heard myself say distantly. "I'm going back to Austin."

She looked at me alertly. "For a visit?"

"I don't know. Maybe for good. I keep thinking . . . I want to go back to the way things were before." I had been safe in Austin, with Dane. I had not felt too much, given too much, needed too much. There had been no promises.

"Do you think that's possible?" Haven asked softly.

"I don't know," I said. "I may have to try it. Everything feels wrong here, Haven."

"Wait before deciding anything," Haven urged. "You need time. Give it some time, and you'll know what to do."

TWENTY-TWO

In the morning i woke up and went into the main room. There was a protesting squeak beneath my foot. I reached down to pick up Luke's stuffed bunny. Holding the bunny tightly, I sat on the sofa and wept. But it wasn't the good, gusty cry I needed, only a slow anguished drizzle. I took a shower, standing in the hot water for a long time.

I realized that no matter how far away from me Tara was, no matter where she and Luke were or what they did, I would still love them. No one could take that from me.