Hearing this, I suddenly wish Amelia were here. Not just because she’d find the idea of “Taropy” fascinating—she has grand plans to study psychology at NYU, so she’d probably light up at linking the tarot to therapy. Really, I wish Amelia were here so she could tell me what to do about Logan.

“Interesting,” Logan says. “I never thought of it that way. Though I did always respect the tarot’s link to so many world religions, the way its symbolism connects to their foundations.”

“Well, symbols capture truths hard to relate in words, right?”

Seidon’s eyes connect with Logan, and suddenly I feel as if I am watching their first date. The floodgates inside my head buckle, so I drain all my disdain into some deep, internal pool.

“Should we find that file so we can rejoin the others?” I ask, my voice leaden.

“Right, of course,” Seidon says. “Dad keeps Uncle Carson’s files in a safe, so my mom can’t go snooping. I have the code saved in a password keeper on my laptop. You two hang here while I go get it?”

“Thanks, that’s perfect,” Logan says, smiling back at Seidon.

Perfect.

As Seidon holds Logan’s gaze, I see just how perfect they both are. Effortless and easy and sturdy, unburdened and beautiful. Captivating. Men—queer, sure, but men through and through. All of that used to be mine, with Logan by my side. But now I suddenly see how stupid I’ve been. How could I think I’d ever be enough for Logan? Me, twig-thin and brainy. Reserved me, who isn’t fun or funny or charming. I always hoped if I appeared intelligent enough, it’d make up for the rest of me. Being smart is what everyone likes about me. Reliable, useful Chase. No one wants to see how complicated I feel all the time, how undecided. I used to think no one would love me if they really knew. But Logan knows. He does.

So maybe I was right? Maybe that’s why he wants someone else? Someone bright and simple and clean like Seidon.

Luckily, Seidon leaves the office by the time the first tear splashes down my cheek. I try to hold them back, my throat searing, but I can’t stop myself. The calm surface, the one I meticulously maintain, ripples. Logan has never seen me cry.

No one has.

“Chase, what’s wrong?”

I wipe my face and look at Logan, razor sharp.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says. “It just came out. I wasn’t going to tell you until the trip was over.”

Tell me. As if his mind is already made up. How long ago did Logan decide… whatever this is?

“Wow,” I say. “Thanks.”

“I meant, bring it up, talk about it,” Logan tries. “I just wanted this trip to be perfect. I know how much it means to you.”