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Nina thinks about that for a moment while I fill in the form, paying attention to the product number so I don’t get it wrong. When the form is filled out, I take it to the manager and arrange for overnight delivery so we can appease Laura’s nerves.

“Man, I would love to have this much money one day,” Nina says when I put down the credit card Laura gave me to pay with. “They practically throw money away doing shit like this, and Laura doesn’t even bat an eyelash. My life with Adam is far less complicated, and we actually need to budget.”

“Yeah, ledgers are for the middle class,” I say, and we laugh. “What do you want to do now that the napkin rings are taken care of?”

Nina shrugs. “Let’s see what else there is to see around here.”

We find a food court and buy something to eat while we walk.

“Are you and Adam very happy together?” I ask.

Nina shrugs. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

Nina grins and shrugs again. “We work together. We’re not crazy in love or anything, but that fades, doesn’t it?”

“I don’t think it should,” I say.

“Yeah, I know there are some people who believe in love that lasts forever. But I don’t know if it’s real. And I’m happy with Adam. He brings his side, and I bring mine. We know what we have in each other. And we know what to expect. Love is great, but stability is what we really want.”

I think about that. It’s true; we all want stability. But I want more than that. I don’t know how to live a mediocre life. I don’t want to settle, to just make do. I don’t want to be happy because it’s comfortable and it works. I want that too, of course, but I want magic. I want fireworks. I want an everlasting honeymoon phase and butterflies in my stomach even when we’ve been together for fifty years.

I don’t know if that exists, but I like to believe it does.

“Tell me about Noah,” Nina says.

“What about him?”

“Whatever there is to know. He was your big love, wasn’t he? The one you thought you were going to spend the rest of your life with.”

Stacey must have given them a summary of what my life had been like as a bright-eyed, naïve teenager who had no idea that happily ever after’s weren’t created in senior year.

“He was the high school quarterback, and I was the head cheerleader. It was almost inevitable for us to end up together. He was hot, too. Blond, blue eyes, dreamy. I thought he was great, then. But everyone thought that. It’s an unwritten rule that the quarterback is the most popular, hottest guy in school.”

“It sounds like you really liked him.”

I nod. “I did. We had a relationship I thought was so deep back then. I know better now, but he was my world at one point. I thought we were going to be together forever.” I laugh. “It sounds so stupid now. But I was young and stupid, so I guess that’s how it goes.”

“And Brett?”

“He was a dick all the way through,” I say darkly. “He was on the team, too. And he and Noah were like the hottest duo, with Noah only just above Brett in popularity. But he hated me. He was always giving me hell, teasing me, making my life hard. I could never see Noah alone unless Brett had something else to do.”

“Sounds to me like he wanted your attention.”

I frown. “How? By being an annoying ass?”

“But you were aware of him all the time.”

“I was aware, all right. And pissed off.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Nina says.

I shake my head. “There’s no way Brett liked me. He hated me. He wanted me gone, and when Noah left, he got what he wanted. I think that’s what he did it for—he pushed Noah to go to Miami so that we weren’t together anymore. I know Noah was still the one to make that decision; it’s not like Brett could dictate to him what he should do completely. But still.”

Nina thinks about that for a moment. “I don’t know. It sounds to me like he wanted to break you guys up all the time. And there’s only one reason I can think of that he might want to do something like that.”

She’s wrong. She has to be. Because what would that mean if she’s right? If Brett was the one I ended up dating because I hung out with all the football guys, anyway.

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