I’d known Holly her whole life. From the day my friend Rachel announced her shock pregnancy to the day eighteen years later when Holly moved out to college herself, she had been like a niece to me.

Rachel’s pregnancy came as a surprise for several reasons. We were in our final year of college; she’d never expressed any urge to have children; and - perhaps most significantly - the two of us were casually sleeping together and had been for years.

“Is it mine?” I’d asked, preparing for my whole life to change in a heartbeat.

“No.” And with that, the physical side of our relationship was over - the father was a friend of hers from the church she attended to keep her parents happy. To avoid any scandal, the two were married within months.

I didn’t dislike Will, but he was hard to warm to. We stayed friendly for Rachel’s sake, and because I wanted a relationship with their daughter. As it turned out, Holly needed me, too. Will wasn’t emotionally available enough to raise a child, let alone a girl, and over the years I watched their relationship go from frosty to outright hostile.

I, on the other hand, bonded with Holly immediately. I’d read her bedtime stories and babysit for her; as she got older I’d be there to listen when she had stories about boys and parties that she couldn’t or wouldn’t share with her emotionally-repressed father. We had a literal lifetime of memories.