“Not until the end of January,” she says. “I’m leaving the day after Christmas to meet Ollie and Daphne in Seoul for our friend Tosh’s movie premier, and then we’re all flying to Thailand for New Year’s.”

“You must be so excited.”

“I am.”

“Well, I’m not.” Ana frowns and bites off a piece of pretzel. “It’s bad enough you go to school in London. You’re not even here on your breaks.”

Willa smiles. “You’re just mad your live-in babysitter won’t be at your disposal.”

“That’s not true,” Ana says. “I like you for your snarky attitude and those granola balls you make.”

I lose my appetite the same way I do whenever I catch a rerun of Gilmore Girls. I don’t begrudge Willa and Ana for their relationship, but I can’t ignore the pang I feel in my chest when I see Ana brush a strand of hair away from Willa’s face. It’s pure adoration. The kind of love only a mother can give.

I shove another pretzel in my mouth to stop myself from crying.

* * *

Asher ignores all my text messages. I convince myself he’s catching up on sleep, so to kill some time I stop by a boutique near his apartment to pick up a gift for my Secret Santa. I find a cute hat and mitten set for Eleanor to go along with a necklace I found at a little shop in Brooklyn.

Another text to Asher goes unanswered, but that doesn’t stop me from walking into his building. Obviously, Bree catching us in the act freaked him out. It freaked me out too, but it’s not like we’ve been hiding it. We went to a very exclusive event together where plenty of people saw us kiss. Compared to them, Bree is relatively low on the totem pole. I have more to lose than he does.

I knock on his door not once, not twice, but twenty-seven times. The doorman told me he was home. He’s a light sleeper. There’s no way he can’t hear me.

“Ash,” I call. “Asher, open the door.”

Nothing.

“It’s Liv,” I say. “C’mon, Ash, open the door.”

Still nothing.

I knock again and again and again until—

“What?”

For someone who was catching up on sleep, he sure looks exhausted. His clothes are wrinkled, his hair is a mess, and the cold glare suggests he’s grumpier than usual.

“Hi?” I smile and hope it softens his mood. I’d offer sexual favors, but now might not be the time.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I believe you invited me over,” I say. “I brought Betsy.”

I say it to make him laugh, but he doesn’t.

“Okay, do you want to talk about what happened this morning?”

“Not really,” he says and moves to shut the door.