I was rational, careful, scrupulously sparing with my feelings when it came to lovers.

But Talia . . . “Careful” was miles away from how she made me feel. Galaxies away.

“I appreciate you looking out for me like that,” I said, reaching out to cover Linden’s sun-warmed hand with mine and give her a little squeeze. “And what about you? How are you doing?”

She contemplated her pastry thoughtfully before taking another bite. “Well, I’m not crying into these doughnuts. So that’s gotta be considered progress, right?”

I chuckled, torn between amusement and sympathy at the memory of Lin slumping against me, alternating between sobbing, stuffing her face with Emilio’s day-old dozen, and taking tear-gurgled swigs of boxed wine.

“You didn’t actually tell me what happened at the gala,” I said, “to prompt the carb rampage.”

“You mean what happened while you and Talia were all wrapped up in each other, doing the Morticia and Gomez tango?” she said dryly. “No shade, I know it was for Gareth’s benefit, mostly. And you guys looked hot together. It just made me feel all sorry for myself, thinking about when I went salsa dancing with him in Carbondale, and—”

“Gareth can salsa dance now?” I said through a fake gag, my soul shriveling at the idea. “Ugh.”

“He actually has surprising rhythm for someone saddled with so much prep,” she said, shrugging. “It was one of the things that . . . you know what, no, I’m not upsetting myself by dwelling on the stuff I liked when we were together. Anyway, I was in my feelings about missing him, and he apparently smelled my weakness like some kind of sociopathic shark. So when he came by to talk to me, I didn’t say no like I should’ve. Instead I let him tell me all the reasons why cheating was the most terrible mistake, we were so good together, I was the very best thing before he fucked it all up, let’s be in sweet love again, and so forth.”

I stared at her, aghast. “He really thinks you’re going to get back together? After what he did?”

She shook her head in bemused wonder. “I guess he thinks he’s redeemable? Or that he deserves to be? For what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s lying about missing me, or about wishing he were less of a fuckup. But it doesn’t matter that it’s true. I could never trust him again after what he did. It ruined everything, forever. And this nonstop trying to woo me back, or whatever he thinks he’s doing . . . all it does is upset me.”

I gritted my teeth, familiar anger churning in my belly. “So that wasn’t the first time he’s tried?”

“I wish.” She scoffed through her lips, a frustrated pffft. “No, after I blocked him on every possible form of social media, and my phone obviously, he started ambushing me all over town, just trying to get me to talk. But I don’t want to talk to him. I want to get over it, move on, feel better. And he just . . . he won’t even let me do that.”