She was being distant. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done or said, but there had to have been something. Before she left the house, she’d looked happy. She said goodbye to Miles, received a lecture from both her mother and Joan, and as soon as the door closed behind us, she started treating me like a stranger. The cab ride was silent and when we got onto the plane, she picked up that stupid US Weekly magazine and hadn’t so much as looked in my direction. I wanted to rip it from her hands and make her say more than just a few words to me.

“Why are you mad?”

“Who says I’m mad?” She turned the page, folded the magazine over, and lifted her feet under her, pointing her knees in the other direction.

“I know you’re mad.”

She glanced up at me briefly. “I’m not mad, I’m compartmentalizing.”

I wanted to call bullshit, but I’d said those words to her in the past. They weren’t a lie. I’d learned at a young age to compartmentalize things. It was the only way not to get caught up in my own turmoil about things going on at home. These last few years had taught me a lot and one of those lessons was that I needed to let others know how I felt. Seeing my brother go through his treatments and not knowing whether or not they’d work had taught me that. I decided to stay quiet. I didn’t want to get into an argument on an airplane. I barely had room to move, let alone toss all of my emotions out there.

The minute we stepped outside of the airport and were hit with a wave of humidity, we started peeling off layers. I knew it would be hot, but damn.

“It’s like a furnace.” She picked up her hair and wound it into a bun.

“Can’t argue there. We should take our things to the hotel and go get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Me too.”

I rented us a car, plugged the hotel address into the GPS, and we set off toward the beach.

“We’re meeting with Natasha, the owner of Medellin Fabrics, tomorrow,” I said. “It’s in an area called Doral. I should probably map that tonight so we don’t waste too much time in the morning.”

“That’s fine.”

I glanced over at her. She was looking out the window, staring into the bumper-to-bumper traffic, clearly holding a grudge over something she couldn’t even address directly.

“Last time I was here I was in college,” she said after a quiet moment. “Came with a group of friends. I would recommend places I visited, but I was drunk the whole time and don’t actually remember the name of any of them.”

“Sounds like a fun trip.”

“So much fun.”

I kept my eyes fixed on the city as we made our way to Miami Beach, which took over an hour instead of the thirty minutes the GPS had first quoted. Tessa called Miles and spoke to him for a while as we sat in traffic, telling him to behave and be good, and that she missed him. I wished I could reach over and take the phone and tell him I missed him and would see him soon as well. More than anything, I wished he’d actually say all those things to me the way he said them to her. One day at a time, I reminded myself. I couldn’t expect to make huge strides just in one day of babysitting. Maybe I could take him to the Yankees season opener or a Giants game when football season started. I wondered if he’d like hockey. I had to ask Tessa about the sports he participated in. Was he any good? Did she need me to take him for her? I’d go anyway. I’d go to every single thing I’d missed out on thus far.