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“Not even,” I said, giving her a playful nudge. “I was too fixated on trying to find the perfect husband—no chance I’d opened up enough to myself then to realize I was queer as hell—that I never let myself be with anyone. It’s not a happy mindset.”

She sighed. “You’re right… you always are, and it’s annoying.”

“Bartender’s wisdom.”

“I’ll work up the guts to tell her. And if she brushes me off and tries to give me shit overattacking her relationship,then I can at least say I tried.”

“That’s the spirit. If it goes badly and gets you down in the dumps, I’ll bring you food while you lose yourself in video games for a while.”

“Look, I’m not even gonna pretend I won’t take you up on that in a heartbeat. Thanks, BB. And thanks for the pizza, too. I owe you one.”

“Forget it. Don’t owe a thing.”

“Nah, I do. I’ll go rock-climbing with you next time and won’t even complain.” She paused. “Won’t complain too much, anyway.”

I laughed. “Okay, you win. Deal. We’ll take that and call it even.”

Allison and I made small talk the rest of the evening, finishing up our pizzas and then cooking off a second set of small pizzas before we headed back inside, clearing up our mess, and I walked with her back to her place before I headed back to my own, fully prepared to crash tonight before I found a text from an unknown number that had me pausing in the doorway to read it.

Hi Brooklyn, it’s Ryan Bell here, I hate to bother you, but if the offer for somewhere to get away from this all is still open, I’d really appreciate being able to take you up on it.

Guess that answered those questions. Honestly, it was nice to see someone who accepted help freely without being ungrateful or weird about it.

And I’d kind of lied to Allison pretending I was completely relaxed about this and just a little worried wondering how it was going—I hadn’t gotten Ryan out of my head all day, the intensity she’d had wrapped around her like a mantle when she walked off to see her boyfriend again.

I shot a text back.More than welcome to show up. There’s still pizza dough left over from dinner if you want a personal pizza. Shall I pick you up, or do you have your own transportation?

She replied quickly.The car rental Shane and I were using is under my name and I’m not letting his filthy hands touch it, so I’ll drive myself. Thanks, Brooklyn. What’s the address?

Couldn’t help but like the girl’s attitude. There was no right way to react to your boyfriend cheating on you, but her way was a strong contender.

I texted her the address, and I took a shot of instant espresso while waiting for her to show—I had a late shift tomorrow and didn’t need to be up early, and I wasn’t sure if Ryan was going to want to crash as soon as she got here or if she’d need me awake, so even though it tasted like licking out an exhaust pipe, I wrinkled my nose and knocked back the shot. Wasn’t too much longer before a sleek charcoal-black BMW SUV pulled up the street and parked by the brick half-wall around the end of the driveway, and I opened the front door to the house and leaned against the doorway, watching out past the wood boards and thatched roof of the front porch as the car door opened and Ryan stepped out, her features perfectly unreadable.

She’d said she was a journalist, and honestly, I felt like she fit the profile—she was sleek, put together, very chic and sharp, professional without being stuffy. Long hair in a rich chestnut brown in a neat, slick ponytail, a clean, classic style with a black blazer and high-waisted chinos, and slight contouring makeup that accented her oval-shaped face and drew attention to where her dark brown eyes seemed to smolder as a default state—attentive eyes. Sharp. The kind of person you assumed noticed everything in her surroundings.

Girl had joked about if I was hitting on her now too, trying to complete the set, and I wouldn’t in a million years try to hit on someone whose boyfriend had just tried to cheat with me. But it wasn’t like I wouldn’t be interested if it weren’t for that. She’d tried talking about how Shane had wanted to swap out hisplain, boring girlfriendto sleep with someone hotter, which said she had a terrible read on herself.

“Hey,” I said, stepping out onto the welcome mat. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but I think I know.”

“I’m… fine,” she said, thumb and forefinger to her forehead, and she stepped up onto the porch with me, forcing a grateful smile my way. “Just really glad to have a place to get away from it all. I appreciate this a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Well, I will,” she said. “I’m a very willful person. Above and beyond on service today, I see.”

I laughed, and I gestured her to the door. “The premium package for our favorite guest. Don’t tell the others I said that, though.”

“Our little secret. Should I take my shoes off?”

“Might as well keep them on for now. I’m about to take you out to the pizza oven.”

She stopped, giving me the closest thing to a real smile that I think she could manage right now. “You’re not talking about a—”

“Brick-fired pizza oven. Built by yours truly. I know,” I said, flicking a strand of hair back. “Only the best.”

“Any chance I can just stay here the whole week instead of the resort?” she said, a smile dancing on her lips as she leaned back against the doorframe.

“Ah, you could,” I said. “But Allison will come around harassing you for food. She’s here for the summer and is renting out the closest building you drove past on the way in, and she likes to help herself to my house. It’s give and take.”