“He’s fine,” I mumble. I wish he would tell me what’s gotten him in this mood. Unless it’s me.

“Girlfriend?” Della says. “Huh. Interesting.”

It’s his mom’s turn to give me her attention, it seems. “So with your sisters marrying and starting their families, are you looking to do the same, Liz?” she asks. It seems like she’s the only one happy to have me here.

Across from us, Ryann starts humming “Fixer Upper” from that Disney movie. I cut my eyes to Sam, but he seems unfazed. I’m guessing he’s not familiar with the song.

Della stabs her chicken so hard the fork screeches against the plate.

“Um . . .” I look to Sam for help, but he’s scowling into space. Real helpful, buddy. “I don’t know? I mean, I’m just starting a new career and . . .” And this is Sam we’re talking about here, right? Do you know how he feels about commitment?

And yet here I am.

The best plan of action is to change the subject. “So, what are your hobbies?” I ask Ian. “Do you spend a lot of time restoring cars?”

Ryann snorts. “That’s just want he wants you to think. He spends more time at his computer running code.”

“What kind of code?”

“Ian developed the code for the Something Real dating site,” Connor says, grinning at his brother-in-law.

I choke on my wine. “That’s your site?”

“Yeah,” Ryann says. “He understands how hard it is for ugly guys to find a date, so he invested hundreds and hundreds of hours into developing a workaround.”

“Just because you’re too shallow to appreciate true connections,” Ian says to his sister. “I am a romantic. I believe in love.”

The rest of the meal passes in a haze as Ian chatters on about his pet project and the rest of the family chimes in about the various ways they helped. On the outside, I’m a quiet woman pushing food around her plate, but on the inside, I’m panicking.

“So, you’re pretty young for such a venture,” I manage when I finally find my voice. “Who are your investors?”

Ian grins. “Lucky me, I was born into a family of investors, so pretty much everyone you see here.”

You need to tell him before he finds out from Ian, my brain screeches, but my heart knows this will be over when I admit what happened.

Maybe it’s not Connor. Maybe it’s . . . maybe it’s Ian. How pathetic am I to sit here hoping I had inappropriate sex conversations with Sam’s little brother?

“Didn’t I see in the Tattler that you are a member of Something Real?” Della asks me.

Mrs. Bradshaw is clearing the table. I barely ate a bite. I couldn’t. “I gave it a shot,” I say. I shoot a look to Sam, hoping against hope that he’ll say something about how I don’t need sites like that anymore because I’m his. Something. Anything.

But he’s too busy glaring at nothing and doesn’t say a word.

Next to me, Ian pulls his phone from his pocket and starts tapping at the screen. “Oh!” he says, scrolling down through something. “I found you, Liz. You haven’t been active for a while.”

My stomach lurches. “Excuse me.” I push out of my chair and rush out of the room.

In the formal living room, I lean my head against the wall and try to slow my racing heart.

“Liz?”

I turn to see Sam has joined me, and for the first time all night, the anger has left his face. Does he already know? “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I’m a coward. I can’t risk breaking his heart, can’t risk making him hate me until I’m one hundred percent positive that Connor is River. “I need to go.” My voice is shaking as I head to the door, but I won’t cry in front of him. I won’t fall apart in front of this family.

“What’s wrong?” He follows me out the door, and when we’re alone in the glow of the porch light, he cups my face in his hand. “Tell me.”

Please don’t do that. Please, please don’t show me kindness I don’t deserve.

“I forgot I promised Hanna I’d do some baking for her tonight,” I lie. He knows it’s a lie. I see it in his eyes. And because this is Sam and he’s been lied to before, he drops his hand and steps back. He doesn’t want to touch the woman who’s lying to him.

I rush down the steps and to the sidewalk, doing all I can to keep myself from running as I head in the direction of the bakery.

He doesn’t come after me. That’s for the best. I’m like a shattered piece of glass—still whole but broken all over—and his touch, his voice, his concern, any of it would be enough to make me fall apart.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Liz

As irrational as it is, when I get back to my empty house, I miss River more than I have since we stopped talking. Does that even make sense? I’m angry with Connor. Disgusted that he would do this to Della. But I miss my conversations with my faceless friend. I miss feeling like someone wanted me for me.

You make me believe there could be more. You make me want more.

And I know it’s stupid and it doesn’t make any sense, but my chest aches with grief. As if my heart still needs to mourn that Sam wasn’t River. I wanted it to be him so badly that I’d convinced myself it was.

I open my laptop and log on to Something Real for the first time since the morning I left the cabin.

Tink24: Are you there?