Page 160 of My Unfinished Heart

“Oh my God—don’t move. Cutest picture ever.” Joey stands in the doorway of the kitchen scrambling to open the camera app on her phone.

Connor appears at my side, photobombing Kate’s and my moment. He wraps his arms around us both and presses his cheek into my arm.

Joey snaps the shot. I set Kate down and excuse myself, saying I’ll be right back. The bathroom affords the most privacy, so I go there. I look like I just made out with a go-go dancer. All the glitter and lipstick. I wash it off, thinking of Tristan more, not less.

He should be here tonight—with us. He should be helping me with the drinks and congratulating West and Joey.

Is Kate right? Or is Kate just seven?

Loud knocking on the bathroom door startles me. “One bathroom house, Archer. Give it up.”

I open the door for Connor.

He laughs when he sees me. “Oh my God, your face. You look just like me.”

“When was the last time you wore glitter?”

“Yeah, you’re right. You look more like you just left a strip club.”

“Funny.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks in response to the haze of gloom in my voice.

“Where’s Tristan?”

He blinks, his head rearing back. “What?”

“What’s he doing tonight? Why aren’t you with him?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Is he on a date? Did he go to a party? I know he’s not just sitting home by himself—you’d be there.”

“I thought you were letting him go.”

I shake my head.

“Well, you need to because you’re right. Tristan’s not at home tonight.”

“Who are you protecting? Me or him?”

“Him,” he says so fast it feels like a slap in the face.

“From me?”

He nods, his eyes hardening, closing ranks with the person who isn’t here. Shutting me out. I don’t see this look on him that often anymore, but when it comes to Tristan, I guess I’m the threat.

I straighten up, roll back my shoulders, and try to get a handle on the raging, territorial beast inside me. I take a breath and step around him, clearing his path to the bathroom.

“Hey, remember—you let him go. You broke up with him. You broke his heart. I warned you about this. I told you weeks ago you needed to get him back. What the hell have you been doing since then?”

Time—I’ve been giving him time. Time for him and Connor to figure the whole mess out before I decide whether to put myself back into it—time for me and Connor to figure out where we stand with each other—how to be in each other’s lives—“I was trying to give him some fucking space.”

“Well, strong work, ‘cause he’s out with someone else now.”

“He should be with me.” I actually yell that, though I’m not proud to admit it.

“Tough shit. You don’t get to tear him apart again. You’re too late.”