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I nodded and dropped onto the couch across from her. “I feel so pathetic.”

“Give me your phone,” Cam said.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”

She wiggled her fingers, and I passed her the device. Within seconds, she held it to her ear. “It’s ringing.”

“Who are you calling?”

She gave me a look like I should already know.

“Holy shit!” I said, my heart already beating fast. “I didn’t think you’d call him!”

She held the phone out. “Better say hello.”

My mouth fell open.

She shook the phone for me to take it.

Finally I did and squeaked out, “Hello?”

“Mags?” Rhett’s voice was rough but honey at the same time. Equal parts hopeful and bashful. Hearing him say my name only brought back memories and stirred feelings in my heart that should be long since gone.

“Yeah, it’s me. Um. You still have the same number.”

“I couldn’t change it,” he said. “Not when I was hoping you’d call.”

My heart somersaulted in my chest. I shoved the excitement down. This had to be just another one of his lines. “Um, I was thinking about that dinner you offered.”

“Yeah?” The hope in his voice slayed me.

I bit my lip, feeling Cam’s eyes on me. “Is it still on the table?”

“Definitely. Want to meet at the diner tomorrow night? Shit, I can’t tomorrow. Thursday at six?”

“Thursday’s fine,” I said. The silence between us felt so heavy, especially knowing the past versions of us were as close as two people could be.

“Goodbye, Mags.” The way he said my name lay heavy on my heart.

“Bye.” I lowered my phone to my side, and Cam munched popcorn, staring up at me. “What happened?” she asked. “I swear you’re better than the show.”

I rolled my eyes at her, then took a deep breath. “Rhett and I are having dinner Thursday night.”

When I tell you she screamed.

I covered my ears. “Cam! The neighbors are going to call the cops on us!”

“Let them!” she cried, jumping out of her chair and setting the popcorn on our thrifted coffee table. “Oh my gosh! We have to find you an outfit. Now.”

“Now?” I asked, following as she ran to my room. “It’s not until Thursday!”

“You’re going to look so damn good.” She went into my closet, digging through the clothes. “He’s going to rue the day he was born.”

“Because I look good?”

She paused, in thought. “Rue the day he let you go? That’s it.” She continued searching.

I sat on my bed, knowing it was hopeless to try and stop her when she got like this. “I mean, we were just high school sweethearts. Like seventy-five percent of those relationships end in divorce. My stupid heart needs to let him go.”