I think I’m going to throw up and I haven’t even had anything to drink yet. I arrange some fruit on a plate and place it on the buffet table in the backyard. Laura and Wyatt are supposed to show up any second, and I can feel the ring burning a hole in my pocket. I need to give it back to him, I don’t want to keep it. I need closure, but I also really, really don’t want to see him. I’m torn what to do when it happens. Cry, ask him why, and grab one of the forks to stab his eyes out. It’s a fifty-fifty chance, really.

Guests are milling around and it’s been nothing but a parade of awkward hellos and sympathies and condolences and well wishes. No one really knows what to say to me, which I suppose really isn’t their fault. It’s awkward all around. I don’t even know what to say half the time.

My mother appears with the last plate of finger food and touches me on the arm. “You all right?”

I nod, subtly hiding my left hand from her. I thought about taking my new ring off before the party, but I didn’t want to. Having it there is comforting, like some kind of shield. Even if this goes badly, I know that Will is going to be behind me, ready to catch me. It’s a strange feeling, being able to rely on someone so quickly and so completely. With Wyatt, I always knew that I had to fend for myself.

How did I let myself get to this place with him? In the two days I’ve been with Will it’s become really clear that my relationship with Wyatt wasn’t a healthy one.

I hear car doors slamming in front of the house and I let out a sigh. It’s going to happen sooner or later. Mom leans in and gives me a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”

“Yeah,” I say weakly. “We’ll see.”

I follow her into the house as the front door opens, and Laura enters. She looks great, tan from her time in Mexico and a blinding smile on her face. Following her is Wyatt, with a smile that I know all too well. I used to think that he saved that smile only for me. Laura is the first to spot me. “Sandy!” She rushes over to me and wraps me in a giant hug. “I’m so happy you’re here. I thought you might not come because it’s just a tad awkward,” she makes a face. “But I’m so happy to see you!”

I feel hollow inside. There’s no doubt that I love my sister, but this is more than just a bit awkward. Over her shoulder, Wyatt’s eyes are fixed on me. Laura stands back and looks between us. When we don’t speak, Laura nudges me. I clear my throat. “Hello, Wyatt.” Turns out that neither of my options work. I don’t think I could cry right now and there aren’t any forks in the immediate area.

“Good to see you, Sandy.”

The way he says it is so casual and so carefree, like we’re acquaintances meeting after a long time instead what actually happened. My mother steps in, pointing out back. “We’ve set up out there, if you want to take a look.”

“Perfect!” Laura grabs Wyatt’s hand and drags him out into the backyard and I sink against the wall.

“That went well,” my mother says in a sarcastic tone.

“Yeah.”

We stand in silence for a few second before I pull myself off the wall. “Mom, I think it’s time for wine.”

She smiles. “In the kitchen, dear.”

“That’s where I’ll be if you need me.”

I open the first bottle of white wine that I can find and pour myself a more than healthy glass. I make a silent promise to myself to drink less, but this occasion calls for it.

“For what it’s worth, I offered to beat him senseless.”

I jump, turning around. “Geeze, Dad. You scared the shit out of me.”

He chuckles. “I figured this would be the best place to hide. Guess I’m not alone in thinking that?” He raises his own glass of red.

“I don’t know what we’re toasting to.”

“Survival?” It makes me smile a little, and he goes one. “I don’t like this whole thing. I have heard stories about it happening, but when it actually happens, it’s a lot less romantic and a lot messier. How are you holding up?”

“Fine, Dad. I’m fine. I brought the ring to give back to him, so hopefully that will be that.” I run my hand through my hair, and I see my Dad glance at my hand. Shit. I still haven’t figured out the best way to explain to him or anyone what’s going on.

He raises an eyebrow. “That’s not Wyatt’s ring.”

“No it’s not.” I press my lips together, because I’m not going to lie, but I’m not going to explain.

“You have something you want to tell me?”

I’m saved from answering by the loud sound of an engine in the street. It’s so loud that both my dad and I glance out the window to see where it’s coming from. What it is is the most beautiful sports car I’ve ever seen. Sleek and low to the ground in a dusky silver color, it seems to prowl across the ground. No one we know is near wealthy enough to own a car like that, which means there’s only one person who could be driving it.

The car parks and Wilcox gets out, buttoning his suit jacket and taking his sunglasses off as if he’s modeling in a commercial for the car. I can hear people in the other room wondering who he is and why he’s heading straight for our house, because everyone here knows each other.

I quickly head to the front door because I have to get to him first. I realize that we didn’t talk about how we were going to break this to my family, whether or not we just say that we’re dating or that we admit we’re married. Or if we even tell them anything right now. I manage to open the door right as he steps up to it. “Is the fact that you like to make an entrance something I should know about you?”

“One should always make an entrance, darling,” he says in an intentionally affected accent. “Impress them from the beginning and they’re putty in your hands.”

I can’t stop myself from smirking, even though I can hear more people coming inside, wondering about the handsome stranger. “I’ll remember that.”

“Good.” He looks me up and down, and I blush. I dressed with him in mind, because after our encounter at my apartment, I wanted to. I wanted him to look at me exactly the way he’s looking at me now. It’s not his favorite color, but close—a flowing, A-line turquoise dress, paired with one of the highest pairs of high heels that I own. He doesn’t have to say anything, I can feel the approval and the appreciation radiating off of him, and it’s the most natural thing in the world when he pulls me against him and claims my lips. He bends me back so that I’m relying completely on him to hold me up, and because he’s putting us on display. “Show off,” I murmur against his lips.

“Always,” he murmurs back.

A throat clears behind us, and Will sets me upright on my feet. My father is watching with his arms crossed and a stern look on his face, though I know him well enough to know that look is more for show. Will is the one who takes the first step. “You must be Sandy’s father,” he says, extending his hand. “I can see the resemblance.” My mother approaches and he reaches out to her as well, still keeping one hand around my waist. “And you must be her mother. You have a lovely home.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” my mother says. “But I can’t say I know who you are.”

Will is beaming, and I know that he’s going to drop the bomb, and I can’t stop it. I realize that I don’t want to stop it. “That’s all right,” he says. “My name is Wilcox Herrington, but you can call me Will. I’m Sandy’s husband.”