I rolled my eyes and stepped aside. “Fine.”

Peter took off his scarf and coat, and I directed him to hang them in the closet. He looked around and nodded toward the half-empty bottle of beer on the table. “Pre-gaming?”

I shrugged.

“Can I have one?” he asked.

“They’re in the fridge.”

I sat at the dining table, listening to the door open then close, and the beer top pop before Peter sat down, a chair between us.

He set the cap on its top and moved it around in a figure eight with his index finger. “She said it was coming.”

“Where’d she go?” I asked.

“Back to Maryland … with her mother. Paige knew, Naomi. We knew when we married it wasn’t love. She knew I was in love with you and she was in love with, Malcolm Trebec,” he said, looking disgusted and bewildered at the same time. “My father was a congressman I was being groomed as one too, and her father was neck deep in business and politics.”

“I recall,” I said, unimpressed.

He turned his head to the side. “We’ve been over this.”

I breathed out a laugh. “Do you think I’m still heartbroken over it? You came here.”

He held up his hands, still holding his beer. “I know. I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed. “She didn’t care that I could never get over you. I know she and Malcolm were still sleeping together, even after he married. It was always convenient for me to have a house here.”

“So why did she leave?” I asked.

“I went home. I didn’t call. Malcolm was … he was in my bed. He left, and that should’ve been the end of it, but I wanted to hurt her. So I told her. I told her it didn’t matter because I’d brought you to Colorado Springs. That I could see you every day like I used to, and that was enough for me. And for Paige, I suppose, that crossed a line. She’s tired of pretending.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked.

He took a long swig of his beer then set the bottle down to rub his face with both hands.

“What?” I asked. “Is she pregnant with your kid or something? Or Malcolm’s?”

“God no. She is obsessive about birth control.”

“Then what?”

“It’s an election year, Naomi. This couldn’t come at a worse time.”

My face fell. “Are you serious?”

“What?” he asked. “Can’t we just talk? We used to be best friends, Naomi. We used to talk for hours, and vent about our asshole dads, our overbearing mothers, and the godforsaken fucking desert.”

“You’re right,” I conceded. “We were friends. Best friends. All the firsts! I loved you right up until you came home from a weekend in the Hamptons and broke up with me because you were engaged to Paige.”