“Look,” Rafe repeated. “I mean it, Tom. As your friend, I’m telling you to look.”

I don’t want to. But he did, cringing at the sight of himself looking like a kid who’d lost his puppy.

“You were watching her,” Rafe murmured. “I was so damn mad at you, but I had to take a second out of being angry to take this picture. I need you to see.”

Tom sighed, exhausted. “See what, Rafe?”

“You want her, but you don’t want to. It’s hurting you and it’s hurting her. You both say that you’re just friends, but that’s bullshit. We can all see it. Why are you fighting this so hard?”

Wasn’t that a damn good question?

Tom closed his eyes, childishly hoping that when he opened them, Rafe would be gone.

“I’m still here,” Rafe said wryly.

“Of course you are.” Tom looked up, met Rafe’s piercing stare. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know why you’re fighting it? Or you don’t want to admit that you do know?”

Tom pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can’t you just let this go?”

“I will, if that’s what you really want. Except we both know you’d be lying if you said so. Pictures don’t lie.” He held out his phone again, the photo a slap to Tom’s face.

The expression he wore was . . . longing. He swallowed hard as the admission took root in his mind. In his heart. “It’s only been fourteen months,” he whispered.

Fourteen months, twenty-three days, and seven hours.

“I get it,” Rafe murmured. “I waited five years for Mercy to come along. I’ve wondered since we talked Wednesday—or didn’t talk since you told me to leave your house—if I’d have been ready for Mercy if it had only been fourteen months since Bella.”

“And?” The word grated on his throat, which was suddenly dry. Suddenly burning. As were his eyes and his nose. Goddammit.

“I don’t know. But I also didn’t have anyone I cared about like that back then. You do.”

I do. It was no longer a question in his mind. I’m so sorry, Tory, but I do.

“Would Tory have wanted you to be alone? To feel like this?” Rafe waved his phone, Tom’s photo still filling the screen.

“No.” Of that he was certain. “She wouldn’t have, but . . .” He closed his eyes, unable to look at his own face any longer. “She was pregnant. Only two months, but . . .”

“Oh my God,” Rafe breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

Tom was startled to realize that the searing pain had started to numb somewhat. “Me too.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment. “I can’t even imagine how much that hurts.”

Tom shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m not sure that it changes what you’ve said. Tory still would have wanted me to move on. I’m not sure that it’s possible now, though. I hurt Liza, without even meaning to. She left. I’m not even sure we’ll be friends again.”

Rafe sighed. “You want my opinion?”