“I know. You’re right. That’s why I told him he needed to be honest with you.”

“What about you? You didn’t feel like you needed to be honest with me?” I unfolded my arms and pulled out the book I’d been hiding inside my sweater. “Did you give this to me?”

He sighed. “Oh, Lane, I—”

“What were you trying to say? Was it from you? Or was it supposed to be from Jamie? Another one of your tricks to make me think he actually knows who I am?” Thoughts were tumbling through my brain at lightning speed, but rather than overwhelm or confuse me, it felt more like things were finally clicking into place—giving me the whole picture that had been eluding me for weeks.

“It wasn’t supposed to be from Jamie.”

“Simon, all the stuff that I liked the most about Jamie was the stuff that came from you. When I combine that with the way you’ve been treating me this weekend, looking at me, talking about me. When I think about that kiss, how am I supposed to feel? It’s felt real, but now I’m not so sure. And with this”—I held up the book—“I have no idea what you want me to feel.”

He ran a hand through his hair and forced out a heavy sigh. “Lane, the book was a mistake.”

I looked up, pain piercing all the way to my gut. “What?”

“Wait. I need to tell you something first. I need you to understand. Every single second I was with you, it was me. I asked you things because I wanted to know, expressed interest because I really was interested. It was all real for me, okay? I hated funneling information to Jamie. I never thought it was a good idea.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“I shouldn’t have. I definitely see that now. But he’s my brother. He asked for my help, so . . . I helped.”

“And neither of you stopped to think about what this might do to me?”

“A thousand times I thought about it. I was actually planning on telling you everything. And the book was the start of that. You were going to find it when you woke up and then come find me, and I was going to tell you. But then—” He paused and closed his eyes, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“Then what?” I prodded, wanting him to finish his sentence.

He moved his hands to his hips, his head hanging low on his shoulders. He finally looked up to meet my gaze, his eyes full of resignation. “Then Jamie told me he’s going to propose, Lane. He wants to marry you. He texted this morning to let me know.”

I took a step backward.

Marriage.

California.

Marriage.

It was too much to wrap my head around. “So you changed your mind.”