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I arrive at dinner exhausted. Both the late night calls from my father and the nightmare about the tidal wave seem to be happening more frequently. Between the two I got very little sleep last night.

When I mention my half-assed job search, Rob suggests I do a different type of marketing. “Working for a non-profit is never going to make you money,” he says. “Why not do what you’re good at and make a decent living at the same time?” He starts talking about marketing for a wealth management firm like his own, and though he means well, it’s a struggle not to fall asleep listening.

If this were Brendan here, he’d be encouraging me not to settle. He’d swear somehow it would all work out. And a part of me wants that, wants to feel optimistic and hopeful about the future, excited by its possibilities. Except that sort of unrealistic thinking is just like Brendan himself: fun while it lasts, but gets me nowhere in the long run.

As he drops me off, Rob mentions that he has an event he needs to make an appearance at on Saturday. He wants me to come with him.

“It’s a grand opening. Cocktail attire. You know I hate going to those things alone.”

I hate going to those things too, but mostly I’m hard pressed to imagine how dressing up and going to an opening won’t feel like a date.

He grins. “You’re so transparent. It’s not a date, okay? I swear. It’s not a date. Just come with me, and then I’ll drive you home and shake your hand at the door. Hell, if it makes you feel better, I won’t even walk you to the door.”

I sigh. “I don’t know, Rob.”

“I won’t even fully stop the car—you can jump.”

I laugh. “You’re impossible to say no to. You know that?”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” he says, nodding toward the ring on my finger—not my engagement ring but an emerald he bought on our first anniversary. "Because maybe that ring isn’t the only thing from our past worth keeping.”

"I like lots of things from our past."

"I could have done a lot better, though. The longer I'm back, the more I’m realizing it,” he says, pulling my hands across the console into his. “If you give me another chance, I’m going to devote my entire life to making you happy.”

I walk inside, feeling much better than I did before I saw him. And if being with him makes me feel better, and Brendan only causes pain, isn’t it obvious who I should want? What Rob and I had wasn’t perfect, but at least it was real.

* * *

On Saturday I spend an inordinate amount of time getting ready. I’m wearing a dress of Harper’s—slinky and silver. "It's about time you started caring," she says as she curls my hair.

I don’t actually care, but I’m trying to make myself care. Brendan moved on. I ought to at least pretend I have too.

Rob arrives wearing a suit, reminding me how much I used to love watching him dress in the morning. I almost can’t fault the girls in his office for throwing themselves at him. Almost.

“You look unbelievable,” he says. “I’m going to be the most envied guy there.”

I warm a little inside. I was merely a small blip in Brendan’s existence, so brief and inconsequential I don’t even mark a point in his time line. So inconsequential he couldn’t even walk away from his pool game to tell me so. But that’s not the case with Rob. He’s proud to be seen with me, and he wants everything I can give.

We’ve driven for at least 10 minutes before I notice we’re heading away from the city. “Where are we going?” I ask. “There’s nothing out here.”

“It’s a vineyard. I’m a minority partner, and tonight’s the official opening.”

I release my air in small, controlled puffs. “Blue Mountain?”

He glances at me. “I’m surprised you’ve heard of it.”

“I think Brendan is friends with the owner,” I reply, my stomach knotting up. “Is he coming?”

Rob’s smile fades. “No idea. We’ve only spoken twice since I got home. I dropped by his place yesterday—have you seen it?”

It feels like a test, although maybe I’m just being paranoid. What if he saw something of mine there? God only knows what I left behind. I tell him I have, my pulse racing.

“The girl he’s dating was there, so I only saw it from the hall, but what’s up with the holes everywhere? The place looks like it needs to be demoed.”

I feel like I’ve been hit. Again. When is this thing with Brendan going to stop providing fresh sources of pain? He told me he didn’t let girls sleep over. God, I was stupid. I was so fucking stupid to believe him, to believe I was special somehow. I wonder if he’s delivering his speech about being in the bubble to this girl. Or maybe they aren’t in the bubble. Maybe she has what I did not, whatever magical properties are necessary to make Brendan want more.

We arrive, and Brendan isn’t there, which feels like the first break I’ve gotten in weeks. But I still finish my first glass of wine in two gulps. My second one goes down almost as quickly.