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“It’s a nice room. Bea got throw pillows and everything. At the end of her pregnancy, she got deep into nesting and when their house was all in order and she ran out of things to do there, she moved on to my place.”

I can see that arguing against this will be futile, and I’m honestly so drained at this point that an easy path to a place to sleep wins out.

Fifteen minutes later, Trevor’s truck comes to a stop in front of a 1950s ranch house with gray and white siding. The large front yard is still covered in remnants of the storm, with two winter-barren crab apple trees that frame the home. I bet those would be idyllic in the spring. I can picture blooms of pink and tiny apples falling onto the grass. This is a grown-up’s house. This is a home for a family.

Trevor said at the reunion that he’d been fixing the house up over the last year, and the space tells that story. A completely redone kitchen, with quartz countertops and modern white cabinets. A bathroom that still has fading blush tiles on the wall, and a dingy bathtub that looks like it hasn’t been used in this millennium.

“Guest room awaits, m’lady,” Trevor says, leading me down a carpeted hallway and into a small but adorable bedroom, with a fluffy ivory comforter and modern wallpaper with fruit trees on it. The throw pillows match the oranges from the wallpaper.

“Thank you so much, Trevor,” I say, placing my bag by the foot of the bed. “You really saved the day. You have no idea. My knight in shining armor.”

“Anytime, Miss Big Apple,” he replies, pulling me into a long hug.

It’s reassuring, comfortable, to have my arms around his waist, cheek pressed into his chest, shoulders enveloped by his hands.

I take a deep breath. “You never said anything. Back in high school.” The words are muffled by our embrace.

“I was pretty sure you didn’t feel the same way,” Trevor says simply, his arms dropping down to his sides as he steps back, away from me. “That’s why Henry wouldn’t kiss you at the Truth or Dare game on the New York trip. Think our buddy was protecting my feelings.” He nods once before adding, “Sleep well, Norah,” and closes the door behind him as he goes.

Everything comes back to Henry, no matter what I do. He was protecting Trevor’s feelings? He was trying to be a good friend? That goes against everything I’ve held as fact about this scenario for so long. Maybe if I’d known this then, Henry and I could have remained in each other’s lives for the past nine years.

But is that even what I want? Henry Cole has found so many ways to hurt me and betray my trust over the last few days. That morning between us, Genevieve, the house. I don’t think this is supposed to be so hard.

I lie back on the bed, the mattress firm under my back, as if it hasn’t really been broken in yet. I don’t have a plan for tomorrow, or today, I guess, seeing as it is one thirty in the morning. It’s Christmas Day. Trevor will be with his family. I’ll still be locked out of the house.

I start looking at flights. Maybe that’s the answer. To get out of this place, away from these people who are suffocating me, as soon as possible. Mom will be better off if I’m not there for the proposal. I’m just ruining everything. I can get the rest of my things from the house whenever I come back next. Another two years, or three. Or whenever the wedding is. That might be sooner.

But by then, it won’t be our house anymore anyway.

My mind drifts as the sleep debt of the last two nights catches up with me, and I fall asleep in my clothes from the drive, with the airline app still open on my phone.

Chapter 16

I wake up with a start, unsure where I am, freezing on top of a thick comforter. I turn my head and see a digital clock. 11:10 glows in fluorescent red. Holy shit, I slept late.

I sit up and check my phone, and that’s when the panic really sets in. Between Hannah and Mom, I have about thirty texts and missed calls, stemming back to the wee hours of the morning. It appears that they decided to all drive back early this morning, and then discovered that I was not at home, causing everyone alarm. I tap out a text to Mom and Hannah that I didn’t mean to worry anyone—I’d just been locked out and will be home soon.

I have a missed FaceTime from Frankie too, along with a smattering of texts. First, pure smugness that she’d been right about Henry, and then the hard left to wanting to skin him alive for all his nonsense, and then a note about when she thinks she’ll next be in service. I no longer have the energy to relay all the new terrible, confusing developments to my best friend. I know she won’t be thrilled that Trevor was the one who rescued me either, even if I could not be more grateful to our golden-haired former classmate.

I splash some water on my face before grabbing my bag. Trevor is wrapping gifts on his dining room table. When he hears me, he looks up and smiles.

“Sleeping Beauty lives!” Trevor says with a grin, putting down a roll of tape and abandoning the box he was wrapping, the paper slowly unfolding without the anchor of his finger or the adhesive.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, covering my face with my hands. “I don’t think I’ve crashed that hard in ages. I hope I wasn’t keeping you from your family.”

“Not at all,” he replies. “Don’t meet them till noon.”

“Great,” I say, taking in the cheesy sweater Trevor is wearing, a reindeer with a pom-pom red nose. “That’s cute.”

He does a spin, and it makes me laugh, the pom-pom nose bobbing in the air. “Want breakfast?” he asks.

“I really should get going.”

“I can drive you,” he offers, but I shake my head.

“Thank you for everything,” I start, “but I have a Lyft on the way. I’ve already put you out so much.”

We hug goodbye, but this time I keep my distance. I don’t want to give him the wrong idea, even if I don’t think his feelings are present-tense.