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“I don’twantto be,” I snapped. “I want to go talk to my mother now.”

“We’re only having this conversation because—” Helena started, but Oscar cut in, finally, a hand in the air.

“Look, great conversation and all, but if nobody wants to talk about this, can we drop it? If we’re going to start shouting at each other, I want to put a shirt on first.”

Helena looked red-faced between us, like we were tormenting her just for the fun of it. “You bring this conversation up, and now you want to yell at me about having it?”

Stella shook her head, muttering, “Conversation is a strong word for coming in here trying to gaslight someone about her boyfriend cheating on her.”

“I’m not saying it’s okay to cheat,” Helena said, her voice getting high. “Of course it’s not! But there’s a time and a place to do something about it! This is just reflecting badly on everybody and ruining the entire trip—”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to make this like it’s Ryan’s fault,” Stella said, and I shouted—shoved out a sound sharp all around the edges that scratched my throat.

“That’senough,” I said. “I’m going. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Ryan,” Helena chided, but I stormed past her, my stomach churning with a deep, sick weight. I was doubly grateful Brooklyn had given me food… I’d be dry heaving if I were doing this on an empty stomach. Plus, at this rate, I doubted I’d be going to breakfast with everyone, so—might have been on my own to figure out a meal.

The resort felt strange, foreign around me suddenly, like I’d forgotten the layout of the place, and marching through it felt like I was in a dream where I couldn’t move quite right. I didn’t even give a damn that Shane and I weren’t together anymore. We hadn’t been very affectionate with each other because he was just kind ofthere,and I could see it all in perfect clarity the second I walked out of suite 36 a single woman last night. But suddenly being turned against my own family wasn’t what I needed.

I took the stairs up two at a time to get to the floor Mom’s and Dad’s suite was on, and I knocked hard on the door, pounding on it a few more times than I needed to before I leaned against the doorframe, weary down to my soul. I was an expert in hard conversations. Came with the territory. Whether that was trying to console somebody about a relative who’d just died tragically and senselessly or trying to get an incriminating statement out of somebody we all knew was behind the suspicious budget reallocation but had played their hand well—I was comfortable having hard conversations.

But here I was, a little kid trying to admit to her mommy that she’d spilled juice on the carpet.

The door swung open to where Mom stood in the doorway with a frustrated expression that turned soft and sympathetic when she saw me, and she put an arm out for a hug.

“Oh, honey,” she said. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Just fine.” I stepped in to meet her hug as shallowly and lightly as I could, a ghost tap on her shoulder before I stepped back. “Just wanted to let you know Shane and I aren’t together anymore. Didn’t want to do it right now, but—”

“Sweetheart, please, come inside, sit down,” she said, rushing me off my feet and into the room—she moved so quickly I couldn’t really do anything about it other than walk where she directed me and sit down on the ottoman in front of the bed. Dad was out right now, apparently. I wasn’t sure if that was better or worse.

“I’m just letting you know we’ll have to work out the situation of who’s staying where, because we can’t—”

“Shh, honey, it’s okay,” she said, shutting the door behind me and pulling the armchair closer to sit down close to me. “Shane came around and talked to me last night.”

I grimaced. “Ah… and what did he say?”

“He told me everything, about getting too friendly with the girl at the bar, the whole fight. He was really worried about you after you walked out, and he wanted you to know that he’s really sorry and he’d never really do anything behind your back.”

I tented my hands in my lap. So that was his version of events, huh? He’d just gotten a little too friendly with the bartender, maybe flirted a little, and I got jealous and fought with him and walked out, and he was trying his best to make amends. “I see,” I said, finally. “He didn’t mention the other times where he actually did go through with it, then, huh?”

She frowned. “Sweetheart, what are you talking about? Shane is a gentleman. He would never do that.”

“Hetoldme himself,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice level. I didn’t do too hot. “Told me it was my fault for not being good enough for him anyway, so he had to go get it from other people.”

She shook her head, lips drawn tight. “Ryan, honey… people say all kinds of things when they’re stressed, confronted. Shane’s just frustrated with how things have been ever since you quit your job.”

“We’re not bringing that into things,” I said, heat creeping up my throat, clenching my hands as my voice strained. “This started long before my career change, before you try telling me I deserved it because I switched to a career you don’t like.”

She frowned. “You don’t need to attack me. I’m trying to help you—”

“I don’t want help. I wanted you to know that Shane and I aren’t together. Should I still go to breakfast with you all, or should I leave you to it?”

“Well, of course we want to have you,” she said. “Shane will be there, too, though, you know. I know this is a rough spot, but I want to help you two figure this out, because he’s just so good—”

“Oh,he’sgood,” I said, standing up, my blood hot in my ears. “And I’m not?”

She stood with me, her face red. “That’s not what I’m saying. Don’t twist my words.”