The damned sun hurt when it hit my eyes. That must be the result of all the salt water. My head hurt, and the ringing phone wasn’t helping.

I scrabbled around for my phone and answered it without looking to see who was calling. “Yes?”

“Bryant! Are you dead? Because if not, you need to tell me what is going on! I’ve been calling you all morning!” Tibby was pissed.

I glanced at the clock. Holy shit. It was after ten in the morning.

“I am sorry, Tib. Fuck, I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m getting up now,” I tossed the bedclothes aside, feeling the adrenaline rush through me.

“No, wait!” She almost yelled. “Stop and tell me what’s going on. It’s Sunday, goofball. You’re not late for anything. I’m just not used to you not answering. I wanted to hear what happened on Friday. Somehow, you forgot to update me!”

“Oh, Christ,” I said. The enormity of what had happened yesterday hit me again. Just when I’d managed to put it out of the front of my thoughts.

“Forget it.” Tibby changed tack. “You sound horrible. I’m grabbing stuff for bloody Marys and I’ll be there soon. By myself,” she added. “Do you have food I can cook?”

“I guess,” I said. Why did it matter?

“Never mind. I’ll be there in an hour. An hour-ish,” she added. “I’ll grab some food.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Hey, Bry?”

Hearing my nickname made the tears leak again.

“I love you,” she said, and then she hung up.

I crawled back into bed. Tibby had a key.

I didn’t hear her knock, or even come in. But I felt someone shaking my foot, and when I opened my eyes again, the shade had been lowered, and Tibby stood next to the bed.

“Get up. I have a bloody Mary with your name on it, and some toast, and if you want it, eggs and potatoes.”

Food sounded both great and horrible. Tibby didn’t wait for an answer, sailing out of the room.

For once, I was glad she was so bossy.

When I made it down to the kitchen, she shoved a coffee cup, as well as a glass filled with a bloody Mary, at me.

“Sit,” she commanded. “And once you’ve had a few sips, tell me what you want that won’t make you throw up.”

“I love you,” I said.

“I know,” her back was to me as she spooned potatoes off the stove. “I love you, too. Spill.”

Sighing, I wondered where to start.

“I called Graham last night,” I said.

“He hasn’t called you since you guys talked?” Her back was still to me, her tone noncommittal and light.

“No. I went for a run and decided that after a month, I deserved to hear something. I mean, there’s a proposal sitting there, waiting for a response. Well,” I amended, “There was.”

“Go on,” Tibby turned and leaned against the island, eating. Her face was carefully neutral.

Normally I’d be annoyed she was using work face on me, but today, I was glad. It made it easier without her comments as my best friend.

“I called him. I mean, for God’s sake. He hadn’t called me in a month! And he said, when I did talk with him, that he had been avoiding it.”

The weight of all that Graham had said hit me, and I dropped my head. I didn’t want Tib to see me fall apart.

“What else did he say?” Her voice was quiet.

Without looking up, I replied, “That he felt he did all the work for the emotional side of things in our relationship, and that if we got back together, he’d still be doing it. He said that I only moved forward because he forced my hand.”

At that point, I ventured a glance at her. “What?” I could see that she wanted to say something, but was holding back.

“How honest do you want me to be?”

“Honest, but can you go gentle? I’m already feeling like shit.”

Tibby nodded. She knew what I meant. “Listen, Bry, I liked Graham. But he always went on about how much he did, and how you never did enough. I know there’s give and take in every relationship, but he made it all one way for him, and all the other, less-than great way for you.”

“That’s what you say about someone you like?”

“No, that’s what I say to my BFF who is hurting from being rejected by someone who wasn’t ever good enough for him.” Her tone brooked no argument.

“How can you say that?” I asked.

She inhaled and crossed her arms. “How far do you want this to go?”

“What else is there, Tib?” I was suspicious now.

“When you told me what happened, how he had a bag packed, even though he’d said yes, I… Well,” she looked away, and looked uncomfortable.

“You what?”

“I had him followed,” Tibby got out in a rush.

“You what?” I asked slowly, not sure I’d heard right.

“I had him followed. Even had my guy sit close to him and his friend when they were out a couple of times. He was seeing the guy, or had something going with him before he moved out, Bry. He wasn’t being honest with you, for all that shit he spouts.”

“You really do hate him, don’t you?” I asked.

“Right now? Yes, I do. You’re tying yourself into a damn knot because you are trying to be something he says you need to, and he’s been lying to you. The whole time he’s been stringing you along!” Her hesitation was gone, and now she was mad.

I wanted to yell at her, tell her that her bossy britches shit had just gone too far—but I knew it hadn’t. I was the guy who had told her I got to vet her dates. And she’d let me. We looked out for one another.

“When did you have him followed?” I found that asking made me feel tired, and about a hundred years old.

“Not until after he moved out. He’s living with the guy,” she added.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Tibby shrugged. “Why, if you weren’t going to get back together? I thought you going out with that other guy—the one you still haven’t told me much about—meant that you were starting to move on.”

“He’s really with someone else?”

“They hold hands in public. Maybe they’re not together, but that’s not the vibe the PI got.”

I laid my head down on the counter. “I loved—love him,” I said to the cool granite.

“I know,” Tibby said. “I’m sorry.”

“Why did he even say yes?” I turned my head so I could kind of see her.

“I don’t know? He got mean? He was being a shit that day? I don’t know. Did he really tell you he didn’t want to do the heavy lifting anymore?”

“Yes.”

“Asshole,” she said. “I know this hurts. But he was tossing shit up at you to cover his own bullshit.”

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” I spoke to the granite again. “Fuck. Tib, this may take a while to…” I couldn’t say the words. Couldn’t say get over him. I just couldn’t.

“You know, this means there is something else?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dhameer. What he said to you.”

I gave her the one-eyed stink eye. “Why the hell are you talking about him? My life just fell apart here.”

“I know, but eventually, you have to come back to life. And you have a djinn who somehow set something up in your favor. He’s not a jerk. Nothing is free with Dhameer, but he doesn’t set you up to get hurt.”

“Oh, no?” I asked, the bitterness seeping out and burning an acidic hole in the granite countertop.

“No, he doesn’t. Maybe it means…” Tibby stopped. Took a deep breath. “Maybe it means that your heart’s desire is in a bit of a different direction.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Could you dance around that one some more, please?” I pushed my body up off the island to look at her.

“I could, but I thought I was pretty much at the bottom of the barrel as it was,” Tibby said.

“I can’t think about that right now, Tib,” I got serious again. “I’ve just lost everything I ever wanted.”

Her mouth opened and then closed. Good. I wasn’t in the mood for platitudes of any sort.

“OK. Then how about we drink these bloody Marys and make it so I have to call a cab?”

“OK. But you’re cooking and cleaning.”

She laughed, and it was a testament to our friendship that she didn’t bitch about doing everything. She stayed with me all afternoon, and we didn’t mention Graham again.

“You going to be OK?” She asked as she got ready to leave.

I was impressed that her phone hadn’t gone off at all—she must have told Seth it was a no fly zone today.

“Not yet, but I guess I’ll live.”

“Listen, tell your family that there’s no engagement,” Tibby looked serious. “Otherwise it will come up when you really don’t want it to.”

“What, you’re the expert on this?”

“No, just the expert on all the awkward family shit.”

“OK, I’ll call my mom tomorrow. She’ll spread the news and make it a little easier.”

“It’s OK to call her, Bryant. That’s what moms are there for.”

“Thanks for coming over, Tib.”

She gave me a big hug and kissed my cheek. “I love you, jackass. I’m always here for you. You have an open invite for any time you need to swing by, OK? I mean it. We mean it,” she added.

“Go home. Your guy’s been pretty patient all day. I’ll let you know if I need propping up.”

“OK. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.”

I closed the door behind her. I was exhausted.

As I fell into bed, I thought, Why, Graham? The vision of him getting into the car with the other guy was never going to leave.

Damn it.

I finished cleaning up the kitchen and headed back to bed. There was nothing to do but to keep putting one foot in front of the other and hope that time would help me move forward and away from what I thought my future would be.

I looked at the phone. I might as well call my mom tonight. It wasn’t too late. Get it over with now and then be done with it.

She answered on the second ring. “Bryant! Sweetheart, how are you?”

“Actually Mom, not so good.”

And for the second time this year, I got to tell my mom that no wedding was in my future. I think it sucked even more this time.

I didn’t think that I could feel worse, but hearing my mom tell me she was so sorry, and hear the hint of tears in her voice made me feel guilty.

Which made no sense, but there it was, and I couldn’t tell her anything other than it would be all right, eventually.

I tried really hard to believe it.