This is my important reminder that they are attached at the hip, that they moved to the same town together, the same building. I’m the outsider here.

The conversation bleeds into what Dom and I are going to do in Puerto Rico.

“Eat, dance, take pictures . . . and, you know.” Dom lets out a chuckle, and my stomach rolls with nausea. “What about you? Are you still seeing that chick? Stacey? Tracy?”

Crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. I was not expecting this gut-wrenching reaction to hearing that Joe is seeing someone. Now I cannot help but envision him having hot, sweaty sex with a faceless woman. In my bedroom, for a reason beyond my grasp. Slowly smiling at me, his half-moon smirk, while pounding into her. It is so his style.

“Presley,” Joe corrects in his easy, dispassionate tone.

“I was close, wasn’t I, Lynne?” Dom meets my stare in the rearview mirror.

“Hmm-mmm.”

“How’s she doing?” Dom asks.

Joe shrugs. “Dunno. Ask her.”

Now our gazes meet in the rearview mirror. I know what he thinks.

I’m not giving you the pleasure of knowing what’s going on in my love life. Choke on the unknown, baby. We both know it hurts more than any naked truth.

“She sounds like a great girl,” Dom marvels. “Funny, nice, into you, got a great job.” There’s a comical beat before he adds, “Hot. Sorry, babe, it had to be said. The girl looks like a fashion model or something.”

Knife, meet heart.

Joe smiles idly but doesn’t say anything. I wonder if it would hurt as much if I heard something similar about Dom, but then I remember that I found a necklace in his bedroom, and although I was a little annoyed, it didn’t feel like I’d been chopped to tiny pieces and fed to the gators.

I know I have no business being jealous. Not when Dom all but stated we’d be spending our weekend rolling in bed together. But the thing about feelings is, they care little about logic.

“Give it a chance, bro. Seriously. Just . . . take her out.” Dom beams, all positive energy. So much positive energy. Must he always be so optimistic?

“Yeah. Maybe.” Joe throws his old Jeep Cherokee into park. I realize we’re at our gate at the airport. Joe slides out of the driver’s seat and pulls out our suitcases for us. I watch his arm muscles bunching under his tee and remember what they felt like when I clutched them while he drove into me. When we had sex on the beach. He and Dom give each other a brotherly hug, slapping each other’s backs.

“Safe travels, bro,” Joe says.

“Thanks for the ride, man.”