“Who cares why he’s an asshole? Just be glad you dodged that bullet. Look how he treated your half-sister. The jerk played her around when you were there. I’m going to go out on a limb and bet their marriage is a clusterfuck of massive proportions.”

Summer plops down, grabs my wine glass, and puts it to my lips, urging me to take a sip like it’s medicine.

“Besides, you have Callum now, and he is uber hot and doesn’t hate money or standing or…you know, life in general.”

“Mal doesn’t hate life. He loves it.”

That’s the entire reason he is who he is. Because he loves life so passionately. But I’m thinking about Young Mal. The current version seems about as jolly as a KKK meeting.

Summer huffs. “What was he doing there, anyway?”

“He’s working with Jeff Ryner now.” I put the pillow behind my head and throw myself over it. “We’re about to work together. In Ireland. For two months. I’m going to live with him.” I swallow hard. “And his wife.”

Summer looks at me like I’ve just announced my intention to join the circus, where I will be performing a one-hour show doing gymnastics on the back of an elephant in nothing but leopard thongs. Blindfolded.

“What in the fuck went through your head when you said yes?”

“The job opportunity. Plus, the Mal thing happened eight years ago and clearly means nothing.”

“Means nothing?” Summer shoots to her feet, pacing back and forth in our tiny living room, arms linked behind her back. “Means nothing?! You obsessed over his ass like he was the only male with a functioning dick in the entire universe. It took you years—not weeks, not months, years!—to finally move on with Callum. You dreamed about him. You woke me up crying. You thought you saw him on street corners and in festivals and at airports. Remember that time you ran after that poor Asian lady because you thought she was him?”

Do I ever. She hit me with her bag trying to shoo me away.

“She was tall and had the same blue-black hair,” I mumble into my drink.

“Point is, he haunted you. We had to take turns in college watching you so you didn’t break your stupid napkin contract and look for him on the internet. That’s not nothing, Rory. That’s everything.”

I rub my eyes, taking a gulp of air. She’s right. Stupid Mal and stupid Kathleen ended up together and somehow reached the convenient (and also stupid) conclusion that I’m the reason for their problems, but I never stopped pining for him.

“You can’t go.” Summer stops pacing, stomping her foot. “I won’t allow it.”

“I’ve made up my mind.”