“No biggie!” chirps Mary followed by Jack and Gus.

Erica pulls the phone out of her pocket and resolutely sends the call to voicemail. “Whatever it is, it’ll be there for me to resolve after dinner,” she says, like she’s trying to convince herself. “Now, Cindy, tell me all about your senior project.”

I open my mouth to tell her that my adviser cut me a last-minute break and let me exhibit some handcrafted shoes from my semester abroad junior year, that in actuality I could only bring myself to do the bare minimum for the last nine months, and that it’s a miracle anyone even let me graduate. But Drew interjects herself. “It was balls-to-the-wall amazing!”

“Balls to the wall!” Jack shouts.

Drew bites her lip and whispers, “Sorry.”

“Jackie,” Erica says, “that’s not something we say outside of this house, understand?”

He salutes her. “Balls to the walls!”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Can’t wait to explain that one to Coach Geneva. Cin, I wish I could have been there for your senior project and for graduation.”

“But you sent the next-best thing,” I tell her.

Erica couldn’t make it across the country—in the peak of casting season for Before Midnight—with the triplets in tow. She sent Anna and Drew in her place, who showed up to my graduation with literal cowbells and made enough noise when I crossed the stage to rival the large Italian family behind them.

“And then—oh my God,” Anna says, “Cindy took us to this epic graduation party one of her classmates’ parents threw on the rooftop of the Standard, and, like, I had a moment—cross my heart—where I thought maybe I could be a New Yorker.”

Drew laughs. “That moment passed very quickly.”

“It was brief but real!” Anna leans her head on my shoulder. “Cindy would have shown me the ropes, right, Cin?”

“Anna, my sweet sister,” I say, the word still feeling a little weird in my mouth after all these years, “I don’t know how to say this, but I just don’t think you’re cut out for public transportation.”

Erica laughs so hard she’s gasping for air, and the triplets look from one to another in confusion.

“Adult jokes,” Gus says with a sigh.

Erica’s phone rings again, cutting through our laughter. She glances at the caller ID and says, “Oh, shoot. This will only take a sec.” She swivels to the side in her chair and speaks into her earpiece.

“I’m telling Coach Geneva!” Mary says in a singsong voice.

Erica inhales deeply, giving Mary a pointed look, and says, “Beck, you’ve got ten seconds. I’m in the middle of family dinner.”

We all watch while she listens intently.

“You’re here? At my house?” Erica sighs and turns to us. “Any chance we could set an extra plate?”

“On it,” Drew says.

Erica stands and heads for the door. “All right, I’ll buzz you in.”

Moments later, Erica returns with a stout white woman with half-shaved black hair wearing combat boots and jeans rolled at the cuff with a white tank top and thick red suspenders—which it seems are more of a necessity than a style statement.

“You all know Beck,” Erica says. “Cindy, you might remember Beck from the wedding years ago. She’s sort of my—”

Beck plays at flipping her nonexistent hair. “Protégée!” Then her eyes widen as she notices me. “Wait. This is Cindy? Simon’s Cindy? You’re—you’re a woman!” She turns to Erica. “She’s a woman!”

Erica smiles, guiding Beck to an empty chair. “Our little Cindy is all grown-up.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Beck reaches across the table to help herself to sushi, and with her mouth full, she says, “Big problem. Who blurbs dropped out!”

“Who?” asks Erica.

“Who!” says Beck, pointing at her mouth. “Who!” Finally, she waves two fingers in the air, and swallows the remains of her sushi with a gulp of water. “Two! Two girls!”

Erica groans. “There’s always one or two. Who do we have in the wings?”

I watch with fascination as their conversation ping-pongs back and forth.

Beck takes another bite of tuna, and her eyes practically cross with satisfaction. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I ate a meal at a table.” She finishes off her bite and points her chopsticks at the triplets. “You enjoy this while it lasts, because one day you’re thirty-two years old and eating a romantic dinner by yourself over your trash can so that it will catch the crumbs and save you the three minutes it would take to clean up after your damn self.”

The triplets blink, staring blankly back at this strange creature who has very suddenly infiltrated their home.

I let out a low whistle. “That went bleak fast.”

Beck grins. “And that’s why reality television is never real.” She holds up a finger to count. “We lost the virgin from Kentucky. Something about her grandma being upset or—I don’t know. And then turns out the swimsuit model from Miami isn’t bisexual. She’s monosexual…for women.”

“Oh,” says Erica with a laugh in her voice. “Well, I guess that one worked out for the best. Though that would have made for some delicious television.”

“I want to eat your brain,” Beck says with complete sincerity.

“Mommy!” Jack screams, instant tears running down his cheeks as he darts around the table to Erica. “Don’t let Beck eat your brain!”

Mary crosses her arms over her chest and says, “Jack, you baby, she’s not going to actually eat Mommy’s brain.”

“You’re right.” Beck grins. “Because I only eat little children’s BRAAAAAAAAAINS!” She gives her best zombie growl, and Mary and Gus both squeal with delight while Jack curls into Erica’s lap.

Erica sighs. “We don’t really have the time to vet any new contestants. Not fully, but…” She taps her index finger against her closed lips as she loses herself deep in thought.

All of us—even the twins—are completely silent so as to not interrupt any possible genius idea she might be sprouting.

“I’ve got it,” she finally says. “Drew and Anna.”