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Henry rubs the back of his neck, a slight grimace across his face. “Three days ago.”

I try to do some quick math. Three days ago was our first full day in Laketon.

“Nor?” I hear my sister’s muffled voice on the other side of the bathroom door.

Henry and I both freeze. There is no good way to explain why we’re whispering in a bathroom together.

“Uh, just a minute,” I call out.

“No rush,” she says, her voice louder as she moves closer. “Just letting you know your bag’s in the bedroom.”

I look at Henry, confused, as Hannah’s footsteps pad back down the hall.

“I should go,” he says quietly, reaching for the handle.

“Why is my stuff in the bedroom?” I ask. “Aren’t you two—”

“She’s leaving tonight,” he jumps in quickly. “Red-eye.”

I nod slowly. “Okay.”

“We’ll talk more later?”

I shrug as his lips pull into a thin line of defeat.

“Should we find a swing set or something so you can kick me?” he suggests with a self-deprecating smile. “I’m sure there’s one somewhere on the premises.”

I almost want to say Maybe because the sheer fact that he remembers the way he used to cheer me up when we were kids warms a small piece of my frozen heart. But I can’t give him that. I try to keep my expression as neutral as possible as I watch his eyes scan my flushed face.

“I will explain everything,” Henry promises before cracking the bathroom door and quietly slipping out.

I count to ten before I head to the second bedroom, grab my shower supplies and a change of clothes, and then let the water burn my skin until it’s pink.

* * *

I’ve sat through my share of strange dinners. The night Luisa and Michael tried to initiate a double date that neither Michael’s friend nor I were aware was happening until we were neck deep in the spiciest Thai food I’ve ever had in my life, eyes, mouth, and later, asshole on fire. The time a bone-numbingly boring former coworker invited himself along to our girls’ post-work tapas. Yet sitting here, at this large oval booth, covered in emerald upholstery that squeaks when anyone moves, with Henry, our families, and Genevieve, takes the cake. We have a perfect view of the ice-skating rink next to the restaurant, lights twinkling outside, reflecting perfectly on the snow-covered trees, but things are significantly frostier here.

I’ve pieced together some of her plan since I got back from my run, but the logic evades me all the same. Apparently, flights were hard to come by given the proximity to Christmas and the sheer number of cancellations the day before from the snowstorm. It sounds like she maybe comes from money, hence the travel here and back appearing out of thin air, but even so, she couldn’t get anything earlier than the red-eye Henry mentioned when he was crowded up against me in that bathroom.

Despite knowing that Genevieve will be flying back to New York in only a few hours, her choice to stay here boggles my mind. If it were me, I would have booked it off this mountain before Henry even finished the coffee he allegedly shouldn’t have been having past noon. Instead, she’s chosen to spend the last (and next) several hours with us. Her demeanor has changed significantly. To Henry’s credit, she definitely knows they’re broken up now.

But she sure is chatty.

I think we’re all too uncomfortable to really process this interruption of our supposed family vacation.

Genevieve asks to hear our parents’ love story, and as my mom starts to share how she fell in love with the girl next door, I realize that I’m an asshole for not having asked this myself. She has Hannah text her a link to the murder podcast they must have been discussing when they were alone on the couch earlier. She wants to know all about my favorite spots in New York to see if we have any overlap. She’s familiar with Talha’s pastry shop next to my apartment, and after realizing that we were both at the Sick Hypnotic End of Summer party, she tells me I would love her roommate’s older brother, and asks if I want her to set us up. My sister snorts in what I think is more of a statement on my dire relationship track record than any indication that she knows what happened with Henry, but it allows me to dodge the question.

Genevieve ignores Henry entirely, but honestly, fair.

I too am attempting to ignore the way his arm is draped loosely around the back of the booth behind his mother. How he quietly keeps everyone’s water glasses filled. The movement of his throat as he swallows some of his salmon fillet.

And I certainly ignore the way his eyes try to find and hold mine throughout the entire meal.

* * *

When we get back to the room, Genevieve still in tow, Mom insists on lighting the menorah she brought with her, a classic bronze piece that’s far less fragile or sentimental than our Tree of Life one that’s back at the house.

“Sara, I love you, but we absolutely cannot set a bunch of open flames loose here.”