From behind me, America slipped her arms beneath mine, interlocking her fingers at my middle, pressing her cheek and tits against my back. I tilted my head toward the sky. I fucking loved it when she did that.

“There’s no hurry, baby,” she whispered. “It’ll happen. We just need to be patient.”

“So … don’t bring it up at brunch.”

She wiggled, trying to shake her head against my back.

I exhaled a deep sigh. “Fuck.”

America

“Happy anniversary to you,” I sang, handing Abby a card and a small white box with a blue bow.

She looked at her watch and then wiped her eyes. “I liked our first anniversary much better.”

“Probably because I planned it, we were in Saint Thomas, and everything was perfect.”

Abby shot me a look.

“Or because Travis was actually present,” I said, trying to keep the hate from my voice.

Travis had been traveling a lot for work, and although Abby seemed to understand, I certainly didn’t. He was working part-time as a personal trainer after his classes, but at some point, the owner had asked him to travel for sales or … I wasn’t quite sure. It was much better pay, but it was always at the last minute, and he never said no.

“Don’t give me that look, Mare. He’s on his way right now. He can’t help it that his flight was delayed.”

“He could have not traveled halfway across the country so close to your anniversary. Stop defending him. It’s infuriating.”

“For whom?”

“Me! The one who has to watch you cry over your anniversary card that he wrote before he left because he knew there was a good possibility he’d miss it. He should be here!”

Abby sniffed and sighed. “He didn’t want to miss it, Mare. He is sick over it. Don’t make it worse.”

“Fine,” I said. “But I’m not leaving you here alone. I’m staying until he gets here.”

Abby hugged me, and I hooked my chin over her shoulder, glancing around the dim apartment. It looked so different from when I had first walked through the door our freshman year. Travis had insisted that Abby make the space her own after Shepley had moved out, shortly after they’d gotten married. Instead of street signs and beer posters, the walls were adorned with paintings, wedding pictures, and family pictures with Toto. There were lamps and tables and ceramic décor.

I turned back to look at the full plates of cold food on the small dining table. The candle had burned down to dried drippings of wax that nearly touched the reclaimed wood.

“Dinner smells good. I’ll be sure to rub it in.”

Shepley texted me, and I tapped out a quick reply.

“Shep?” Abby asked.

“Yeah. He thought I’d be home by now.”

“How is that going?”

“He’s a clean freak, Abby. How do you think it’s going?” I said, disgusted.

“You were all mad when your parents said you couldn’t move in with him. You both sulked in the dorms for a year and a half. They finally gave in, and now, you hate it.”