Dylan stared through the windshield. Storm debris littered the road: leaves, small tree branches, trash from toppled bins. His heart. Sunlight glared off the wet asphalt, searing his vision. He didn’t put on his sunglasses. They’d be one more barrier between the wall Joy was rapidly erecting.

He looked back at her. She held her chin high and shoulders rigid. Her lower lip trembled, a small tell that got to him right behind his rib cage.

“We have to talk,” he said.

“No, we don’t.”

“Why are you being this way?” When she didn’t answer, he tried another approach. “I had a great time with you last night.”

“Last night never should have happened. I’ll drop you off in Chicago, but we’re going separate ways from there.”

He flinched. “We have a deal,” he reminded her, his voice hard.

“Deal’s over.” She swiped a finger under her eye.

He bounced a fist on his knee. He didn’t want to rent a car. He didn’t want to say goodbye. “I want to know why you changed your mind.”

“About the deal?”

“No. Us.”

“There is no us.”

“For twenty-four hours there was nothing but an us. Unless I’m mistaken, you were just as into us as I was.”

“You thought wrong. I wasn’t—”

“‘You.’ You said, ‘I choose you.’”

“And you said you’d never marry. ‘Relationships are a complicated mess.’ Ring a bell? You told me that the first day we met.”

“What if I told you I changed my mind?”

She looked at him quickly, startled. She then rolled her eyes. “You’ve felt that way for years. We’ve only known each other for a week. You expect me to believe that?”

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“I don’t know, have you?”

“You tell me.” He held her gaze.

She visibly swallowed and relaxed her grip on the steering wheel. “No.”

“Have you ever lied to me?”

She paused. “No.”

He waited a second. “Until now.”

She straightened her back and watched the road. “Mark and I are engaged again.”

“You were never unengaged.” His eyes dropped to the rock she’d never removed. He’d sworn off taking their friendship further unless Mark was out of the picture. But then she’d cannonballed like a kid into the pool, danced with him in the rain, and walked out of the bathroom dripping wet from the storm in nothing but a towel, looking like a gorgeous nymph, and he’d lost his will. He hadn’t given two shits he’d likely end up hurting her, or getting hurt himself. His road trip one-nighter. He had just wanted to be with her.

“The point I’m trying to make is this”—Joy pointed at her damp face and swollen eyes—“has nothing to do with Mark.”