“Man, explore the multicultural soup that is the American experience.” When he just stares me down, I elaborate. “As far as I can tell, it’s like clarified butter but prepared differently and used in Indian cooking. You’ll just have to google the rest because I am not going through Delilah’s lengthy explanation. Once was enough for a lifetime.”

Which is mostly true; witnessing the pink wash of color on Delilah’s cheeks and the irate flash of her eyes made it worth it. That and every time we argue, her tits tend to jiggle. Call me a pig for noticing, but I do, and I enjoy it every damn time it happens.

North’s smile fades. “I don’t know why you’re keeping up with this pact. It’s goddamn medieval.”

My insides tighten uncomfortably. “I’m not breaking our agreement. It would hurt Delilah’s pride.” And I’ve stomped on that in the past enough to never want to do it again. “Besides, the arrangement will likely draw Sam out of hiding. Even she isn’t heartless enough to disrupt her sister’s life to this extent.”

North doesn’t look like he believes that shit for a second. I don’t blame him; it’s a weak argument, but the deeper truth is one I can barely say to myself: I can’t let her go.

Something is waking up in me or settling back into place. I don’t know which, but everything in me wants to hold on to the sensation and soak it up.

“It’s complicated,” I mutter. “Delilah and I never got along. Her mama used to say we fought like rats over a scrap. But I respect Delilah. Always have.”

“You know,” North starts in, “it’s kind of funny—”

“And there goes my hope that you’d drop this.”

“All I was going to say is that if you’d introduced Sam and Delilah to me at the same time, I’d have thought Delilah was your ex, not Sam.”

I shift in my chair, trying to get comfortable. “Sam is much more my type.”

The women I hook up with are happy to take attention away from me and keep the spotlight on themselves. Hell, my “type” started with Sam. But the truth is, I haven’t been attracted to her in a long time. And even then, it’d been a mild interest at best.

It is an astonishing thing to realize that I have never been so hot for a woman that I lose my head, forget myself in her. Sex has never meant much to me. An itch scratched, but not something essential. Men aren’t supposed to admit that their sex life is lackluster and has always been that way. It feels like a failure.

North studies me now, his eyes seeing far too much. “You never eyed Sam like she was . . .” He trails off with a shrug.