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“No. I just want to get there.”

“We can just do a drive-through,” Heather said to Chris. “Get up there faster.”

Chris went quiet for a moment. “Is that what you want to do?” he asked, glancing at me in the rearview.

“Yes,” I said, looking away.

I couldn’t stand the idea of sitting across from the two of them in a restaurant.

This was wrong. Everything was wrong.

I wanted to fight with someone. I wanted to have a full-blown screaming match. But not with Mike. I wanted to have it with Chris. I wanted to throw things at him, demand an explanation. I wanted an apology, and I couldn’t even tell you for what. I was more upset with Chris than I was with my own boyfriend after everything that he did.

I looked down at Woofarine in my lap. He had a pink lipstick kiss on his head.

My stomach rolled.

The pungent carpet smell in my nose.

Clasped hands between the seat.

Her Louis Vuitton luggage next to my faded old duffel bag in the trunk.

Worse. Her Louis Vuitton bag in the bedroom they’d share up at the cabin.

The walls were so thin…

I moved the dog, lurched forward to grab Chris’s water bottle from the drink holder, whipped off the top, and threw up.

35

CHRIS

I pushed open the door to the cabin to let in Larissa and Heather. Woofarine ran inside ahead of us while we shook snow from our coats and hung them up. Then Mike came around the corner and plowed into his girlfriend. He wrapped her in a hug and whispered how much he missed her in her ear, and I had to pretend to be deeply interested in getting my boots off so nobody would see it on my face.

I hated everything. Every second of that car ride. Every second of now.

I couldn’t get Larissa out of my head. Nothing made it better. Not having a date of my own, nothing. No matter how much I tried to convince myself I was moving on from her, the pathetic reality was that I wasn’t.

I felt like I’d been robbed—and I’d done it to myself.

All I got of Larissa were tiny stolen moments. And they were stolen, because if she knew why I wanted them, she’d never give them to me. That car ride was precious, and I’d purposely ruined it and for what? To pretend Heather was anything more than just a stand-in?

I felt racked with guilt for bringing her here. I wasted her time, I wasted my time. I knew it the second Larissa got in the car.

I was worried about her. She was sick and I couldn’t even check on her, because why would I check on her? Mike was here. Heather was here.

“This place is so nice,” Heather said, looking around. “Give me a tour?”

“Sure,” I said in my best nothing is wrong voice, trying not to look at Mike kissing his pale girlfriend hello two feet from me.

Becca popped out of nowhere wearing a reindeer sweater and a blinking Christmas light necklace with my dog bouncing at her feet. “Hey! You must be Heather. You’re just in time—Samantha’s making cranberry mimosas in the kitchen. Chris, the guys lost paper rock scissors for who shovels the deck so we can use the hot tub. Jesse’s already out there. He says for you guys to come help.”

Mike let go of his girlfriend to give me a hug. “Thanks for giving her a ride.”

“Yup,” I croaked.

Becca hustled Larissa out of the vestibule. I had to swallow down the lump in my throat.