“Happy housewarming,” Dad tells me, planting a kiss on my cheek.

“Look, it’s shaped like Colorado!” Athena says brightly, handing me the square cutting board.

It’s all too much. My mouth wobbles.

“Oh, sweetie.” Mom’s smile falls. “What’s wrong?” She already knows the answer, not giving me room to reply before continuing, “Where did he go? Why’d he have to leave?”

“It’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it. I . . .” I glance around at all their gifts, my rib cage suddenly too tight. “Thank you, everybody. This is incredibly thoughtful of you.”

“We can’t stay long, but we wanted to give you a proper housewarming,” Marilou tells me. “Felix and I are taking off in an hour, and your parents’ flight is at six.”

“We also wanted to snoop.” Felix invites himself into the house to deposit all my stuff in the kitchen while everybody else pokes at the lawn ornaments. “Grandpa told us this is where you live.”

Mom tips her head back to contemplate the house. “Well, isn’t this the cutest little place. How long’s it been here?” She takes in the location of my neighbors, the café and gift shop. “Where’d the milk truck go? Am I imagining that there used to be an old milk truck here?”

“Bettie!” It’s Grandpa. “What do you say about going to the movies today?”

Going to the movies reminds me of His Girl Friday and sweet, handsome Hall in the seat next to mine, our hands touching in the popcorn bag. My face crumples. I’ll never meet anyone that wonderful again. This planet is wall-to-wall with men who only want one thing, and that one thing isn’t copying the décor of the Cheesecake Factory for a magical treehouse, the blueprints of which I found stashed under Hall’s pillow after he left.

“Or not!” he hastens to add. “We could go to . . . the Bahamas?”

Dad shoots him an incredulous look. He throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t love the Bahamas? I’m helping!”

“Sister of mine,” Felix interrupts, and I notice that the scarf Hall knit for him is draped around his neck. “If you’re not making My Eyre Ladies, do you mind if I do? I’ve been rethinking my script, and you know, there’s some room for improvement. I’ll give you credit, of course . . . not that you’d want it, probably.”

“Bettie, I love your hair today,” Athena tells me with a straight face, holding her arms out to offer a hug. Baby Fang twists in his BabyBjörn, chubby hand up. It is the final straw.

I’m sobbing on the sidewalk in broad daylight.

“There, there.” Athena motors over, petting my hair robotically. “We’re here for you, Betts.”

To the kids, Grandma snaps, “Be supportive of your aunt Bettie! Her incredible fiancé has left her all alone, possibly forever, we haven’t gotten to the bottom of it yet, and, to make things worse, she doesn’t use retinol anti-aging serum. With all this crying, she’s going to have regrets.”