His anger flared, hot and desperate. “I’m not Sam,” he found himself saying for the second time in twenty-four hours. “I kept a secret because your mother—”

“I’m not talking about keeping a secret, Leo,” she snapped. “Although that was awful, too.”

“Look, if you’d just let me—”

“I’ve got to go. The message from her is to please stop calling.”

“Juliet, throw me a bone, okay? Just tell me where—”

The line went dead.

Leo sat on the purple couch and put his head in his hands.

For a second, part of him expected Cosette to hop up and start nuzzling against him.

But of course there was no Cosette in sight. And no Tessa.

What had Juliet been talking about, comparing him to Sam?

How could anyone compare him to that idiot? Sam cheated. Snuck around. Sam didn’t care…

Sam. Didn’t. Care.

Isn’t that exactly what Leo had implied when he’d told Tessa it was a good thing they weren’t serious? That what they’d had was just for fun? That she was replaceable?

Callous things to say. And yes, big fat lies.

Because every single ache he felt clear through his bones told him that nothing was light about this relationship. Nothing was funny.

Because he hurt everywhere.

Tessa deserved someone who thought she was a queen. A goddess. An amazing woman. Kind and beautiful and talented.

Because she was all those things and more.

She deserved better than a man who told her that what they had didn’t mean anything.

It had meant everything.

He missed her laughter. The flour on her cheek. How she always kissed her cat on the head. The wonderful way her hair smelled.

Leo hadn’t told Tessa the truth. Because he had never told anybody that truth.

Like everything else he’d ever done, Leo had taken his mom’s challenge to the max. He’d let it permeate every aspect of his life.

Don’t be sad. Be upbeat, be friendly, and make people laugh.

And don’t get too attached.

But that hadn’t helped him to avoid this pain.

No, he definitely wasn’t laughing now. Because it hurt like hell.

…

A rap on the door later that evening startled Leo, who’d fallen asleep on the couch. Between the sudden flicking on of lights and blinking from the sudden brightness, the shadowed figure of his sister came into view. She invaded his space, making him sit up, and waved a tinfoil-covered plate under his nose. “From Dad,” she said. “Everybody’s worried about you.”

“No need. I’m fine.”