I roll my eyes and press his name to call him. It rings once before he answers.

“Hey, baby, everything okay?”

Just from hearing his voice, an overwhelming need to cry rockets through me.

Working through a tight throat, I say, “Can you come to Nichole’s room? She wants to talk to you.”

“Of course. Be right there.”

I hang up and smile at Nichole. “He’s coming.”

“Good.” She has a challenging look in her sunken eyes.

“Is this really necessary?”

“It is because I know how you’re feeling right now. You’re going through multiple stages of grief simultaneously, starting with denial and anger. Those two combined are not going to do you any good.”

“Denial? No, I just need the facts, Nichole. And you’re not giving them to me. And anger, well, yeah. My best friend, my . . . my sister has been sick for God knows how long, and I’m just finding out about it. So yeah, I’m angry.”

“You’re just going to be angry with me then? Is that what’s happening? Which, knowing you, will result in pushing people away, curling in on yourself, and not letting anyone in.”

“I don’t need you psychoanalyzing me right now. You’re not even giving me a goddamn second to process this. That’s not fair. You’ve known about this for what did you say? Five weeks? I haven’t. I have the right to be angry, and I have the right to believe that none of this is happening.”

“You do, but not at the expense of your marriage,” Nichole says just as Ryot walks in.

He pauses in the doorway of her room and glances between us. “Uh, would you like me to leave again?”

“Yes,” I answer.

“No,” Nichole says. “I need you to come in here and talk to me.”

“Nichole,” I say with a warning tone, but she completely ignores me.

Ryot—looking as unsure as ever—walks into the room and leans against the wall, keeping a good distance from us both.

“You know, I think he looks hotter. Have you grown more muscles?” Nichole asks.

“Protein bars,” he mumbles, knowing he’s in the crossfire of Nichole and me. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s witnessed such an event, and he’s returning to old behaviors. Say as little as possible.

“Well, I’m sure my dear friend Myla over here has been taking advantage of the hard work of those protein bars, hasn’t she?”

“Nichole, just stop,” I say in an annoyed tone.

“Why?” she asks. “You said everything was fine between you two, so why can’t I ask?”

Ryot glances at me, and I look away because I know he has the truth on the tip of his tongue. The only question is, will he say anything?

“Anyone going to fill me in on how married life is? Any news? I mean, I know he signed the divorce papers, but I know you haven’t, Myla.”

I wince as Ryot’s head snaps toward me. “You haven’t signed them?” he asks.