“Um, Kaavi invited me.” I tried to go an octave deeper. My heart was hammering in my chest.

“Oh? That’s a pleasant surprise.” So Kaavi hadn’t told him either.

“I’m glad you’re here, though, Ams. Really.” He sounded earnest. My knees felt weak. “I hated the way we left things. I was horrible to you, of course. I never even had the chance to apologize. And then you, well, you left. If I’d have known then that I wouldn’t see you for, how long’s it been now? Four years?”

“Five,” I said softly.

He raised an eyebrow at the correction, his smile as boyish as ever. I was definitely going to throw up. I needed to get out of here.

“You always had a better memory than me. Five whole years. If I’d known it’d be this long, well . . .” He smiled again, but wistfully this time.

I didn’t say anything. My body was frozen. My mind too. I could barely look him in the eye and so I stared at his chest instead. He’d left an extra button undone just like he always did. A part of me almost reached out to button it, but of course I caught myself in time. I remember how he used to press me into his chest and I used to bury my face in it, wishing I could melt into him. Wishing I could melt away.

“You’ll be here for the whole wedding, then?”

I forced myself to swallow. To hold my voice as steady as I could.

“Yep. The whole thing.”

“That’s great. I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Sure. See you around.”

I started to turn away, but he suddenly reached for my arm. I practically choked.

“Amaya, I don’t know how you remember it, but the last time we were together—it really—well, it really devastated me, you know. That you thought of me that way.” His eyes bored into mine. There was a time I used to think I could get drunk on his eyes alone. The skin on my arm broke out in goose bumps.

He was devastated.

I took a deep breath.

Gave him an apologetic smile.

Gently shook my arm free.

“It was a long time ago,” I mumbled, turning away.

“I’ll see you around.”

And then I fled.

Thankfully, there were enough bathrooms at the Fonsekas’ that it was easy to find a free one tucked toward the back of the ground floor. I locked myself in, slamming the lid down on the toilet and collapsing onto it.

I held my hands up to my face. My cheeks were boiling but my palms were ice-cold.

What on earth is wrong with me?

Years of dreaming about this moment. Sleepless nights spent imagining what I would say when I finally met him again. Afternoons spent perfecting my speech.

I could picture it now.

My confident hair flip. The way I would be in control, yet aloof. In my element. The way I would smile at him so he would know for sure that I was over him. That I didn’t need him in my life. That I was certainly, definitely, 100 percent not broken.