My sister kept walking through our kitchen in a towel and calling it a test of my husband. One Sunday morning he put his coffee down instead of leaving the room.

And she had arranged it in her own head so that ignoring me was a favour.

I told Gideon what she had said that night and his jaw went, and then he said, “She’s your sister. I’ll stay out of it.”

Three more days. Same thing every morning.

Then Sunday.

She came into that kitchen in the towel like the previous fortnight had not happened, and I opened my mouth.

And Gideon put two fingers on my arm.

“Don’t.”

I looked at him. He was completely calm.

“My turn.”

And for the first time in three weeks he did not pick up his coffee and go.

He set the mug down on the counter and looked straight at her.

“You’ve been calling this a test all week.”

Bree gave him a little pleased smile. “Exactly.”

“Good. I’ve been running one of my own.”

Her smile stopped.

“What are you talking about?”