“Oh my God.” Staggering, Avery clutched at her heart. “This is awful. What next? Will he suggest going out to dinner? Perhaps live theater. Run away. Go now.”

“Shut up. He hasn’t suggested going out before, not like that. We stay in. We get takeout or I throw something together—more often than not he just comes over after dinner. Late, when there are guests. And we have sex. What does it mean, a movie? Flowers? And he bought me a magic wand.”

“A what?” Clare said.

“One of those things they sell over by the park with the fireworks. It’s one of the light-up, singing wands, with a star on it.”

“Aww,” was Avery’s response.

“Yes. It’s adorable. Why would he buy me a magic wand?”

“Because it’s adorable,” Clare suggested. “And you couldn’t come down with the rest of us. It’s sweet.”

“There’s that word again. I don’t know what it means, if anything. We’re not dating.”

“Yes, you are,” Clare disagreed with a smile that came from sympathy and amusement. “Didn’t you get the memo? You’re in a relationship with Ryder.”

“We’re not. I mean, we are, of course, because we’re sleeping together. But . . .”

“People who sleep together fall into specific categories.” Avery began to tick off her fingers. “One-night stands, which doesn’t apply. Friends with benefits, which doesn’t fit either because you weren’t all that friendly before the benefits. Pay to play, and that’s out. Or two people who like each other, care about each other, who have sex with each other. That fits, and that’s a relationship. Deal with it.”

“I’m trying to deal with it. I have to understand it, and I’m not sure I do. I’m not going to go into this with expectations. I’ve done that.”

“You shouldn’t compare him to Jonathan,” Clare advised.

“I’m not. Not at all. It’s me. I have to take some responsibility for what happened with Jonathan. I built up expectations, and—”

“Hold it right there.” Avery threw up a hand. “Did Jonathan tell you he loved you?”

“Yes.”

“Did he talk to you about a future, the potential of one?”

“Yes, he did.”

“He’s a lying, scumbag dickhead. Ryder’s not. If he ever tells you he loves you, you can take it to the bank. I told you I know women he’s dated. He’s easy, he doesn’t commit—or hasn’t—but he doesn’t lie, cheat, or evade. My take? He cares about you. He’s being decent, and yeah, sweet. He is decent and sweet. He’s also cranky and abrupt. He has layers. Start peeling them if you want to understand.”