“That’s only because you’re not a girl.”

“Thank you, I guess? What do you mean?”

“Female psychology is more complicated and”—I lift one hand in small increments—“layered. What she did wasn’t great, but it doesn’t mean she’s all bad. One mean action doesn’t define who she is as a person. You shouldn’t punish her for something that has nothing to do with the two of you.”

“But it does. We wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t randomly decided one day to piss off her sister.”

“But does it really matter?”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“Not really. How many times do people get together for all the wrong reasons? Is dating a guy because you saw him in a bar and found him attractive really any better or more profound?”

“No idea; I don’t date many guys.”

I playfully swat him. “Come on, you know what I mean. First dates are superficial and meaningless most of the time. It’s what comes later that matters. Julia is in love with you, and you’re in love with her. The rest, you can work out.”

“Even if I’m plain and boring?”

“Oh, you know Julia, my sister doesn’t mean half the things that come out of her mouth.”

“So, Jules doesn’t really want to date a tall biker with green eyes and dark hair?”

“I guarantee you she doesn’t. She only wants you…”

Paul’s phone rings from inside the small compartment between our seats.

He picks the phone up and stares at the screen. “It’s her. She’s already called a million times.”

Paul lets the call go unanswered.

“Please text her,” I say. “Tell her you’re coming home to talk. She’s suffered enough.”

He considers this, then starts typing.

“Why are you smiling?” I ask.

With a devilish grin, he says, “After today, I have enough leverage never to touch a vegan meal again.”

And at that moment, as he makes the joke, I know he and Julia will be all right. A huge weight lifts off my chest… only to be immediately replaced by another. One relationship salvaged, but there’s still another I have to mend. I give Paul a hug, then climb out and brave the cold back to my own car.

On the drive home, all I can think about is Diego and what I’m going to say to him. There are no excuses for what I did. I can only apologize and hope he forgives me.

***

At home, Paul makes the mistake of going in through the front door. We pulled up in my street only seconds apart, but as he walked up the main walkway, I snuck around the house to use the back door.

The short trek through knee-deep snow proves worth the hassle as I gingerly open the rear door and hear my parents assail Paul with questions.

“…the kitchen looked like a war zone,” Mom’s saying. “You and Nikki were gone.”

Dad chimes in. “And we couldn’t get Julia to stop sobbing and come out of her room…”