I spin the picture and text around and show it to him.

Carter glances at the picture, then at me.

“Goddammit.”

My heart bubbles with rage.

Carter looks me in the eye. “Lacy, this girl is a stage five clinger. I met her at a party a while back. She’s a Jersey Chaser.”

“Well if she’s ‘nothing,’ why did you give her your number?”

“We had a one night fling before you came to Chicago.”

“Oh.” I swallow, wondering how many more Jersey Chasers there are out there. “This is still upsetting.”

Carter stays calm. “Why would I tell you to look at my phone if I have something to hide? I don’t care. You can read our whole conversation if you want. I honestly don’t care.”

My heart, which had been up in my throat, drops to my feet. I’m overcome by a discordant feeling.

The black butterflies are back.

“I honestly don’t know what to think,” I admit. “You’re changing, obviously. You seem like a new person. How we just were, together…”

My voice trails off. I take a deep breath, and sit up on the bed. Hunching over my phone, I’m unable to shake the sinking feeling in my gut.

Carter, still with just his towel wrapped around his waist, stands in front of me.

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” I say. “It’s just not a good feeling when we finally sleep together for the first time in half a year, and then I see this.”

I’m even surprised myself by the vitriol that sneaks into my voice.

“Hey,” he says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

I trust Carter, but I’m starting to feel like maybe a tropical paradise isn’t the best place for me to objectively think through our future.

Vacations are nice, but I feel myself getting swept away again, and I need to self-preserve, too. I can’t let myself get hurt again.

Carter steps away and puts on boxer briefs. “In case you missed it, there was a part of our lives—about eight years—where we barely talked, and yes, that involved me dating—and sleeping—with other people.”

“Thank you for putting that image in my head.”

“I’m serious. I want to be with you, Lacy. I know that now, but I can’t change what’s already happened, and we can’t move forward if you’re going to hold onto these types of things from the past.”

I feel my body clench up. “If we’re really being honest with each other, this is how I feel.”

Carter shrugs as he pulls his shorts on.

“Well then I should be honest with you, too.” He locks his eyes on me. “Maybe I’m not a nice person when it comes to most people. Maybe you’re right to be scared. It’s not like this is standard behavior for me.”

I stand up and step toward my suitcase, getting my clothes on.

“I want to go home,” I say, taking a big breath. “You’re done talking to your father, right?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, good. I need to get back home to New York.”

“So that’s it? This discussion is over?”

His mahogany eyes are locked on me, intense. I avert my gaze away from his face and drag my eyes down his chiseled frame.

“I need to think this over, when we’re not in Costa Rica. This doesn’t feel real. This whole thing feels like some alternate reality.”

“You want to go back right now?”

I heave a sigh.

“I can’t think straight right now.”

He nods. “Alright.”

There’s a brooding in his eyes as he pauses. “I’ll call the car, and change our flights.”

“Thank you,” I say, getting my soap and shampoo out from my suitcase.

“Do you want coffee?”

“Coffee?”

“I’m going to go down to that place and get some.”

“Sure.”

I sleep during the couple of hours we are in the van headed to the airport.

Carter pokes me when we arrive, and we hustle into the small San Jose Airport to make our flight out.

“They had space on a flight to Chicago, so I booked us both there and we’ll transfer,” Carter says as we pass security.

“Fair enough.”

Since we’re flying standby, our seats aren’t next to each other on the plane.

I’m a little relieved, since there’s this awkward tension between Carter and I right now.

As we pull into the sky, my stomach churns thinking about the text and the photo. I wish I never saw it, but then again, maybe this is a part of Carter’s life that will never go away.

At the same time, I’m not being totally honest with Josh. I need to clarify things with him ASAP.

The plane has inflight Wi-Fi, so I throw my phone on and check my messages again.

My heart drops when one pops up from Josh.

Josh: Hey sunshine. How’s Costa Rica?

Lacy: It’s fantastic. I’m on my way home.

Josh: Hope it was a fun trip. I’ve been thinking of you. There’s been a big snowstorm on the northeast coast. Be safe and can’t wait to hear all about it when you’re back.

I squeeze the phone in my hand, considering my response.

I reread his message.

Can’t wait to hear all about it.

Oh boy.

I bite my lower lip, and the man next to me snores in the middle seat as I look out the window.

A pang of guilt sinks into my stomach. This time, I feel like the bad person. I shouldn’t be leading Josh on like this.

But--what did Lance call it--’New York dating?’ You’re not in a relationship until you have ‘the talk of talks.’

Which we did not have.

And Josh was the one who shied away from it.

Still, I don’t want to be the ‘technicality’ girl.

Either way, mine and Josh’s is not an ‘over text’ conversation. I’ll deal with it when I get back to New York.

One in-flight showing of Mean Girls later, and we’re pulling up in O’Hare Airport.

I see Carter’s tall frame in the back of the plane, and we make eye contact.

I pull on my jacket as we get off the plane, and immediately regret forgetting to change into jeans instead of shorts. Just walking from the plane into the airport, it’s evident Chicago is frigid in January.

When Carter and I are through the gates, we look up at the schedule for New York flights. There are delays, but quite a few flights are leaving within the next five hours.

I watch Carter as he stands there, looking up at the flight board.

“Plenty of options for you tonight,” he says.

“Yep.”

“I’m really glad you went down with me.”

“Me too,” I say, and lean in to give Carter a hug.

He reciprocates, wrapping his arms around me.

“You know, I was serious about what I said back there.”

Pulling back, I squint up at him. “About what?”

“About wanting to be with you.”

My heart churns, and I stutter.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Carter interjects. “I just had to get that off my chest. I want you to know. I don’t want you to say anything until you’re ready. If you never are—that’s fine too.”

I nod, slowly. “Thanks for being patient.”

I never thought I would be the one holding out on Carter Flynn.

What a strange time it’s been.

“You’re obviously weirded out right now,” Carter continues. “I can feel it. I came on too strong. So, I’ll leave the ball in your court, so to speak.”

“Thanks.”

“But do text me when you touch down.”

“I will.”

“The six-thirty looks like a good flight,” he says.

He kisses me goodbye, and then goes.

Watching him leave, the sinking feeling returns. I want to be with him, I do.

The last time I felt this way, I got burned. Sighing heavily, I tell myself it’s for the best if I get back to New York, prep for the new round of shows we’re starting in a few weeks, and reassess the situation from home. When Carter’s around, his magnetic pull is so strong, I never feel like I can think clearly in his presence.

After passing through security, I sit in the waiting area while my flight keeps getting pushed back.