A day and a half later, I could tell Sam and Melissa were starting to get worried.

They didn’t say anything, necessarily. They didn’t have to. Both of them had tact and subtlety, two traits that were lacking in most of the relationships I’d had in life, but I could still read between the lines. Their friendly yammering had dropped off to a more manageable level, and it came and went, hours of chatting punctuated with hours of silence.

They were trying to be normal with each other, I could tell. My sudden, unexplained vow of silence worried them both, but they both made a game attempt at pretending not to be worried at all. When they talked, it was about fanfiction, my books, and what they hoped to do at Fantasticon. But it was during the lulls where I could feel their eyes on me. Sam started asking me for directions as if he didn’t have a GPS telling him the way. Melissa would detail her thesis to me, trying to dig for whatever information she could get. I didn’t respond to either of them, though. I answered everything with shrugs and small gestures.

My dream had absolutely devastated me with guilt. Over what, I couldn’t be totally sure. Maybe I felt bad about having a sex dream about Sam when he didn’t even know I found him attractive, or that I felt guilty having a sex dream about any fan at all. Maybe it was old guilt cropping back up from my relationship with Paul and the fact that I didn’t feel I deserved to move on. Whatever it was, all my old demons had decided to come out to play. The word “creep” was stuck in my head like a skipping CD. Nothing would quiet it, not even Sam’s fanfics, the ones that had managed to distract me so well at the beginning of the trip. Possibly worst of all, we were only in Montana, and the blowing, raging snow was getting worse and worse by the second.

It was around midday when the bad weather officially turned into a blizzard. None of us really objected to finding a hotel and riding out the storm, but we were all starving. Apparently, small towns in Montana operated differently than New York City, because every restaurant we passed was closed thanks to the weather. My stomach growled painfully, and Sam’s gave a sympathetic rumble as well.

“We need to find a grocery store,” Melissa decided, her sharp eyes looking for any hint of something open peeking through the swirling torrent of white outside the car windows. “We kind of need to get to one anyway before the con.”

“We do?” Sam asked. He was speaking through gritted teeth and frowning in concentration, slowly maneuvering my car over the icy roads. I was impressed by how well he was handling it; if I’d been driving in that weather, I would have melted into a puddle of terror.

“Yeah. I don’t think we’re going to find anywhere else that has food staying open in this storm.” She sniffed a bit. “And if there are places that are going to exploit their workers by forcing them to come in when the roads are this bad, I don’t want to give them my money anyway.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the tension or the bait she’d laid out for me, but I broke my silence to ask, “Aren’t we supporting the exploitation of grocery store workers instead, then?”

Her glare made it clear this wasn’t the time she’d been hoping I would speak up. “Maybe a little bit, but it’s different. Grocery stores carry emergency supplies that people need access to in these conditions, and until someone figures out a way to distribute those supplies in a more ethical way, grocery stores are our only choice. Plus, as I said, we’re going to need con chow. If we can kill two birds with one stone, that’ll at least make the trip more worthwhile.”

My stomach writhed again. She was right. Not only did we need food just then, but snacks were a necessity for a convention. With the odd hours people kept at cons, it was easy to miss opportunities to eat. I’d made the mistake of not bringing provisions for my first Fantasticon, and I ended up passing out in the middle of artist alley one day. Damien had been so scared by it that he demanded I keep a fanny pack full of beef jerky and granola bars on me at all times when we were on the con floor.

Damien, from the few tense texts he sent me, was apparently already having a bad enough week. The last thing I wanted to do was send him into a neurotic spiral because I refused to buy some gorp in a snow storm.

The search lasted nearly an hour, but we all erupted in cheers when we saw a Kroger looming ahead in the distance. We scuttled through calf-high snow in the parking lot and greeted the linoleum and fluorescent lights like men lost for years at sea would greet land.

The three of us decided to split up. I was on snack patrol while Sam went to find a decent lunch and dinner for us and Melissa went off to buy any miscellaneous odds and ends that we might need, like medicine and hand sanitizer. This trip was already pretty miserable with the long hours in the car and the horrible weather, and the last thing any of us needed to add to it was disease.

Just being able to roam the store by myself made me feel significantly better. As much as I liked Melissa and as hard as I was falling for Sam, the constant confinement together was wreaking havoc on me. For the first time since we’d left, I could take a long, slow breath and not feel suffocated by the sensation of being so close to other human beings. A big grocery store was the perfect place to be after feeling so claustrophobic.

I slowly loaded up my shopping basket with cheap, durable food like jerky, crackers, and peanut butter. Even though I knew, rationally, that we needed to get back on the road as soon as we could, I let myself linger, enjoying my newfound freedom. The store was a virtual ghost town, and I felt comfortable letting my mind wander as I picked things up and surveyed their potential. At one point I was so out of it that I turned and ran smack-dab into someone’s back, knocking my basket out of my hand.

“Shit,” I muttered crouching down to pile everything back into the basket. “Sorry about that,” I said, not even bothering to look up. “I guess I just spaced out for a second.”

“Yeah, well,” a familiar voice said, “you always did have a problem with that.”

My blood froze. I tried to tell myself it couldn’t be true, that I should just keep my head down and continue on with my shopping, but I had to know. I slowly raised my eyes, following the well-known silhouette in front of me, and soon I was back on my feet, standing right in front of Paul.

“Uh.” My heart was racing a million miles an hour. Some desperate part of my brain told me I was hallucinating, but there was no way that my mind could have come up with what I was seeing in front of me.

Not only was Paul in front of me, but he had changed. It seems obvious, of course, that a person would change over five years, but whenever I thought of him, I saw the lanky twenty-four-year-old he’d been the last time I’d laid eyes on him. It was surreal to see him standing in front of me with years tacked onto him. He was starting to develop a little frown line between his eyebrows, a reflection of a disgruntled expression I knew like the back of my hand. Though they were few and far between, there were gray hairs mixed into his soft brown locks. His body didn’t seem so gawky anymore, having filled out a bit, softening around the middle. Instead of the plaid shirt and khakis that had been a part of his wardrobe since I met him, he wore a polo shirt and jeans under his leather coat.

The biggest change, though, had to be the napping infant strapped to his chest.

Paul gave me a small, hesitant smile, an arm hooked under the baby sleeping in the harness he was wearing. The child was so bundled up that I could barely even make out a little pink face under a bright blue stocking cap. “Hey, Lance,” Paul said.

Calm rushed over me, a simple Pavlovian response to the sound of his voice. For once, I had to push the idea of relaxing out of my mind and focus instead on letting myself freak out a little. “Paul. Wow. Hi.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to remember how to speak with multisyllabic words. “This is...weird, huh?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. It’s definitely that.”

I swallowed hard. “This doesn’t look great for me, does it?”

Paul shook his head. “Don’t worry about that. Unless you have a reason to, of course. Then you should probably worry.”

“I don’t. Really.” I looked him up and down again. “I didn’t even realize you’d moved. Or that you had a...new human.”

Paul’s smile grew, his expression becoming just a bit more relaxed. He looked down at the baby. “Yup. Tom. He’s almost six months now.”

“You named him after your dad.” It wasn’t a question. I had always known exactly when Paul wanted to have kids, what he wanted to name them, and how he wanted to raise them. After all, I used to be the one he was planning to do all that with.

“Yeah.” Paul smiled fondly, resting his hand on his son’s head. “I’m kind of surprised you remembered that.”

We were together for eight years, I wanted to remind him. We became friends in eighth grade when Harold Kepner tried to steal my lunch money, and you punched him in the face. I know you. I know everything about you.

I didn’t mention any of that. Instead, I just shrugged.

“Hey!” Melissa’s voice sounded shrill and disruptive in that moment as she jogged down the aisle towards me, her own shopping basket nearly full. “We really need to get going if we want to find a decent hotel tonight,” she reminded me. “Weather reports are all saying this is going to keep up for a while, so we’re going to need a room for a few nights.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, dazed. “That’s true.”

Melissa glanced from me to Paul and threw on one of her megawatt smiles. “Sorry, so rude of me to interrupt!” she apologized, extending a hand to Paul. “My name is Melissa, I’m a friend of Lance’s.”

“Paul,” he said simply, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Melissa geared up to say something, ready to find the perfect way to extricate us delicately from the interaction, when I heard the last possible voice I wanted to hear. “Hey, babe!” A tall, stocky man rounded the corner of the aisle. “You think we should grab some extra diapers while we’re here? We don’t want to...run out...” His voice trailed off as his eyes settled on me.

I cleared my throat. “Hi, Ted.” Even I knew how pathetic and meek I sounded, but when I saw the matching silver bands on Ted and Paul’s fingers, I was too busy feeling quietly devastated to care.

Paul hadn’t just grown up and had a kid, but he’d gotten married. Married. The thing he always refused to even discuss doing with me.

And he’d done it with fucking Ted.

Ted crossed his arms. I didn’t have to look at the expression on his face to know what he was thinking. “What are you doing around here?” he asked gruffly, taking no notice of Melissa standing at my side. Paul put a hand on his shoulder, trying to remind him to be civil, but he was shrugged off. Paul rolled his eyes and raised his hands in a sort of “I did what I could” gesture, apparently unwilling to start an argument. I wasn’t surprised; after all, he’d never been willing to argue with Ted over me.

“We’re grabbing some food,” Melissa said, refusing to be ignored. Her smile stayed, but it had grown significantly colder. She thrust her hand out between Ted and me, looking up at the huge man without even a trace of fear despite the fact that he was at least a good foot taller than her. “Hi, I’m Melissa! I’m a friend of Lance’s.”

Ted glared down at her hand, but after a second, he realized she wasn’t going to back down and relented, shaking her hand and grunting out his name.

Paul took advantage of the moment to ask, “So, what are you guys doing in town?

“We’re on our way to Fantasticon,” Melissa explained, her tone still bright, but I could tell she was really measuring her response at that point. “We’re a little held up by the weather, though.”

“I’m surprised you’re not already there,” Paul said.

I shrugged. “Damien,” I said by way of explanation.

“Of course he did something to screw it up,” Paul said with a small smile. When Ted turned to look at him, apparently frustrated that he wasn’t willing to be as spiteful with me as Ted was, Paul just reached out and squeezed his hand gently.

Even after five years, seeing them holding hands turned my stomach.

I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up to see Sam looking exasperated. After a cursory and impatient “hello” to Paul and Ted, he looked down at me and said, “We really have to get going if we’re going to find a place to stay. It’s getting worse out there by the minute.”

“Yeah, sorry,” I agreed, happy for the out. I turned back to Paul, planning to just tell him goodbye and rush out, but he was looking at me with such a peculiar expression I couldn’t help but pause. He was watching Sam closely, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked almost jealous.

“Sorry,” Paul said, eyes still focused on Sam. “Didn’t mean to hold you guys up.” He didn’t seem sorry at all, especially when he added, “I’m Paul, by the way, and this is my husband Ted. We’re old...friends of Lance’s.”

The hesitation before “friends” made me blush, and something in my brain refused to let Paul win this. If he was going to make me feel like shit, fine, but there was no way he was going to take me down without at least a little bit of a fight from me.

If he could play dirty, then by God, so could I.

I put my hand over the one Sam had left on my shoulder. “It’s really not a problem,” I told Paul. “We’re just hoping to get out of here quick so we can make it to Fantasticon on time. Right, babe?” I shot Sam a pleading look at that. Please, please just go with me on this.

If Sam was surprised, he didn’t show it. God bless him, he didn’t even take a second to think before he decided to go along with me. “Right,” he agreed. He looked back at Paul and Ted, massaging my shoulder. “Sorry if I was being rude. I’m Sam.” He pulled his hand out from under mine and wrapped his arm around me. “I didn’t realize you guys were friends of Lance’s.”

Melissa was much more silent than I would have expected, but she seemed more than happy to just sit by and watch. She could barely contain a smirk, her eyes stuck to my face. I mentally begged her not to make a big deal out of this, and though she was obeying for the moment, I knew I was going to hear about it later. She’d probably be teasing me about this for the next several years if she was given the opportunity.

“It’s fine,” Paul said, but his voice was a little tense. “We understand. We should probably be heading back too.” He hefted his son up on his chest a bit. “It was nice to meet you guys, though.”

Sam gave him one of his overly-large grins. “Nice to meet you too. Ready to go, honey?” he asked me, and my head swam a little. Even though I knew this was all just for show, it felt unbelievably good to be so close to him.

“Yeah,” I said, “we probably should.”

“All right.” He decided to go the extra mile and, without any prompting, pressed a kiss to the top of my head. My entire body started tingling. He nodded to Paul and Ted, and we all said our goodbyes. Even though Paul and Ted were soon out of sight, Sam didn’t take his hands off me until we were back in the car.

Once the doors were shut, all of us broke out into nervous, hard, hysterical laughter. “What the fuck was that?!” Melissa cried, holding her stomach.

“I don’t know! What was that?” Sam asked me. There was a teasing hint to his voice.

I waited until my laughter had decreased to a nervous chuckle. The truth was I didn’t find anything funny so much as I was just surprised to still be breathing. When I saw Paul, I’d been sure my heart was going to stop, that Ted was going to kill me, or that the world was simply going to crumble around me. “That,” I finally explained, my voice shaky with adrenaline, “was the guy who completely wrecked my life. Along with the other guy who completely wrecked my life.”

Both of them just chuckled at that, but it was notably more awkward than the laughter that had preceded it. Sam started the car and started driving.

We made it to the hotel just after nightfall, and the snow was still driving down just as insistently as ever. I made to open my door, but a hand on my forearm stopped me. I looked up to see both Melissa and Sam looking at me with worried eyes.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it,” Sam began, and my stomach plummeted down to my feet, “but who exactly were those guys?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” I said. “They’re just guys I know. I was just being dramatic.”

Neither of them seemed to believe me; they just kept staring, Sam’s hand still wrapped around my arm.

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. After the stressful day I had, it was probably standing up on end with how much I’d messed with it, but the reflex was still there. “That was my ex,” I finally admitted, my voice quiet and ashamed. “And his boyfriend. Or husband, now, I guess.” I fiddled with the door handle, but didn’t try to open it. “Paul cheated on me with him before he left me. For two years.” I huffed out a little laugh. “You’d think that he’d have told me something about it after, like, six months, but no. He just kept going with it until Ted gave him an ultimatum, and now they’re married. They have a fucking kid. Which is insane, especially since Paul told me he was never the marrying kind, but I guess he just wasn’t the marrying kind with me.”

“Wait.” Melissa frowned. “Is that the guy from five years ago?”

I nodded, humiliated. But I yelped when I felt her swat at my shoulder. “Hey! What was that for?”

“You told me he died!” she snapped. “Why would you do that?”

I stared. “What are you talking about? I never said that.”

“You did! When I asked you the other night if you were talking about the guy from five years ago, you said you were! Five years ago, all the tabloids said your boyfriend died in an accident. They said that’s why you stopped writing.”

“What?” I wondered how they had decided that was the story. Maybe Ted had contacted them; I wouldn’t have put it past him. Or maybe Paul had said it, telling them he was just my good friend. Hell, maybe Damien had put that rumor out, hoping to help me save face, knowing I would be humiliated if the entire world knew I’d been cheated on. Maybe someone had decided to spare me the humiliation of someone digging a little too deep and seeing my greatest shame. “No, no, that’s not...I’m sorry, Melissa. I didn’t realize that’s what people were saying.”

“So you stopped writing because of a break-up?” Sam clarified.

Hearing him put it that way was absolutely mortifying. It seemed so tame, thinking of it that way, and it made me feel even weaker than usual. After all, what kind of loser throws away their career because someone dumped them? I had abandoned my work, my fans, and everything else I had in the world over an ex-boyfriend. If I hadn’t felt pathetic before, I definitely did then.

“Yes and no.” I cleared my throat, staring straight ahead into the wintery blitz.

I could feel them both still staring at me. I didn’t blame them. They had just discovered I’d abandoned them and let them down for five years because a boy broke up with me. That had to be disappointing, if not secondhand-embarrassment-inducing. “Could you explain?” Melissa finally asked. Her voice was gentle as ever, but I could hear the growing frustration beneath it.

“I could. But I don’t know if you guys want to actually hear it.”

“Why not?” Sam asked.

I bit my lip and shot him a glance. “Because it doesn’t exactly paint me in the best light.”