So I smiled, and I meant the smile as much as I could make myself mean it, and I helped her pick out flowers she liked and dresses she loved.

“You’ll be my maid of honor, Nora,” Gemma said, and she grabbed both of my hands in hers and held them tight, her eyes shining.

“Promise me you will.” “I promise, Gemma,” I said, and I kept my voice perfectly steady, and it was, I think, the first genuinely selfless thing I had done as an adult, to make that promise with a whole heart while my own was quietly breaking.

Somewhere underneath the smiling, though, a small part of me kept hoping my parents would intervene.