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"You meant the coffee, didn't you?" I accuse, stepping up to join her where she tried to escape just a stride ahead.

She still avoids my gaze as her lips turn down. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." I scoff, bringing my arms across my chest and squaring my shoulders at her. "You're talking about cold foam."

Bridget claps her hands in front of her face and points at me, the last minute completely forgotten. "Cold foam!" she yells, smiling. "That's it."

I look at her blankly, rolling my eyes away as we take another step toward the register.

"Sorry," she mutters after I don't respond. "I've just been waiting for this since the last time I was here—"

My jaw drops.

"But," she says louder. "I've been excited about seeing you too. I can't believe you're leaving soon."

My gaze flies toward the ceiling again, but my shoulders fall from my ears as my pulse increases. "Yeah."

"Next!" The barista behind the counter smiles and waves, ready for us.

We ask for what we want—Bridget stumbling through an order that was not nearly as difficult as she made it out to be—then make our way to two open stools at the far corner of the coffee bar.

The second we sit, my sister brings her straw to her lips, but I already know I won't be able to contain myself much longer.

I need to talk to someone about all of this—work through what I'm thinking.

Am I crazy?

Are my thoughts as nuts as they seem?

Was Mom actually onto something?

"I'm going to Alaska," I spew, just as Bridget takes her first sip.

I wait for the spray to come flying from her mouth, her straw—from whatever direction her surprise sends it.

But it never does.

Instead, she swallows slowly before taking another gulp.

"You don't seem shocked," I say.

She licks her lips. "That's because I'm not."

I settle my elbows on the counter.

"I was though," she adds. "When I first heard."

"Wha—"

Then it hits me.

"She told you already, didn't she? Was I even out of Baxter's parking lot before she called?"

Bridget tilts her head from side-to-side. "The car was definitely running, but I'm not sure if it was warm quite yet."

I huff out a laugh. "She's unbelievable."

My sister chuckles, setting her cup down for the first time, half of its contents drained already. "I actually think that's very believable for Mabel. What I didn't expect was for you to take a job in freaking Alaska." She emphasizes the last word like it's a foreign country—which it might as well be for someone who’s barely crossed state lines.