Something is sticking out from under the bedskirt, and I bend down to see what it is. My black lace thong is lying on the carpet. It must have gotten kicked under the bed the other night. I pick it up and stare at it for a long moment, remembering how Ryan slid it down and off, then ran his hands back up the inside of my thighs… I throw it in my bag.

Two texts must be sent:

Jen, I’m not feeling very well, heading home early. Sorry to miss breakfast. Call me the minute you get back from Bermuda! Happy honeymoon, love you!

And

Angela, I’m so sorry, not feeling well and heading home. I know you can grab a ride with Diane or maybe Nolan? See you next week, really sorry xo

“I’m definitely not feeling well,” I mutter. “Truth.”

That’s it, done. I’ve piled my belongings by the entry. I pull open the heavy door and start dragging the bags out, when a clicking noise makes me look up.

Jamey’s standing in the hallway outside their door, wearing the t-shirt he bought when we went to an Adele concert last year. His hair is wet.

“Hey,” he says, obviously surprised to see me. “Where are you going? What’s going on?”

He looks so familiar and yet different, like somebody who used to be your best friend but now you’ve grown apart.

Which, come to think of it, is exactly what he is.

And that is when I finally break down. The uncertainty and frustration of the weekend — hell, the past month — overwhelm all my control mechanisms, and the tears spill down my face.

“Ryan’s gone,” I say, trying not to sob. “I’m going home.”

“Gone?” he repeats. “Gone where? That doesn’t sound like Ryan.”

“I don’t know! When the reception was ending, I couldn’t find him, and he won’t answer my texts or calls. Well, he answered one text, but that was all, and I don’t even know what he meant!”

“What did he say?”

“I asked him where he was, and he said, ‘nowhere.’ What could that mean?”

“I have no idea. But at least you know he’s all right. And he did answer you.” Jamey steps closer. “You two haven’t really been together very long, and this was a pretty stressful weekend for everybody. Under the, you know, circumstances.”

I nod and sniff.

“Kevin and I have been getting on each other’s nerves, too,” he confides in a lower voice. “You and Ryan will work it out. You just need to talk. He really does love you, Carrie.”

“No, he really doesn’t,” I say sadly, shaking my head. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” he says, and opens his arms, wrapping me in a hug. He kisses the side of my head. “And I do still love you, too. Not like I think Ryan does, but I hope you know that. And I’m so sorry. I never really gave you the apology you deserve.”

He smells so good, so sweet, so friendly. “Thank you,” I say, sniffing again, emotions a jumble of really tangled wires inside my chest. “I love you, too. Just, you know…”

“Not like you love Ryan. Or like I feel about Kevin.”

“I don’t love Ryan,” I protest.

Jamey pulls me away and looks at me at arm’s length. “You are the worst liar, Carrie. Always were.”

My tears make it impossible to tell him he’s right. I hate that he’s right.

“You can’t drive home all upset like this, you’ll have an accident. I’ll drive you. Just give me a minute to get my stuff.”

“No, no,” I protest, taking a long series of sniffs, clearing my head and wiping my eyes with the hem of my shirt as Jamey scrambles to hand me a linen handkerchief, one I used as a stocking stuffer for him last Christmas, bought at Ten Thousand Villages and made by Nepalese Buddhist nuns. “I’m fine. Don’t be silly. Jenny’s your sister and I’ll be perfectly all right.”

He peers at me closely. “Are you sure? I don’t mind at all.” Then he grins. “One more meal with my entire family will probably make Kevin disappear, too. Gram keeps asking him why such a handsome young man doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

I smile in spite of my misery. “She knows, doesn’t she?”

“Of course she knows! She just likes watching him squirm,” Jamey chuckles. “Gram’s a piece of work.” Jamey’s eyebrows drop in confusion. “Everyone’s been so accepting. It’s almost like my family didn’t have a closet for me to be in. I’m really lucky.”

“You’d better stay and protect Kevin from Gram,” I tell him, on emotional overload and unsure how much more I can handle. Even positive emotions can be overwhelming in bulk. “But thank you for offering. It means a lot.”

I throw my purse over my shoulder and pick up the bags, then hesitate. “Call me next week,” I offer. “Maybe we can meet for a drink.”

He brightens. “I’d love that! I’ll definitely call. You can fill me in on Ryan. It’s going to be fine, Carrie.” I had him back his wet handkerchief, which he stuffs in his pocket. “And don’t forget the Straight No Chaser concert in November. We have to go together.”

“You’re not taking Kevin?”

“Turns out he doesn’t like a cappella.” Jamey makes a sour face.

My jaw drops. “Who doesn’t like a cappella? How is that possible?”

“I know, right?” We share a warm smile, a few beats passing, and then it’s time.

I wave my fingers and start off, then drop my bags and turn back. I give him a big kiss on the cheek. He smells good, just like always. “Love you, Jamey.”

“Love you back, sweetie. Always will.”

Chapter 13

CARRIE

It’s just another day at work.

A regular Tuesday.

Nothing special.

Unless you count avoiding the kitchen, hallways, lobby, and the area outside the bathrooms as special. Unless you mean bringing my own thermos of coffee and a lunch that doesn’t need refrigeration. Unless you mean reapplying lipstick every twenty minutes just in case I am forced to leave the safety of my cubicle and might accidentally run into… someone from the spa side.

And in addition to these complicated logistics, I am expected to think.