Eventually, I pick myself up off the porch and go inside. I peel off my gown, doing my best not to think about Drew’s hands making the exact same motions. On goes the sweats and cozy tee. If I’m going to be miserable, I may as well be comfortable at the same time.

I’m debating whether it would be more pathetic to go to bed at nine-thirty in the evening or to sit around moping for another hour when someone knocks on the door.

My heart leaps. Could it be . . . ?

But when I fling open the door, McKenna is standing outside, holding a bottle of rum in one hand and a tub of chocolate fudge ice cream in the other.

I try not to react, but my face must give away my disappointment. “Sorry,” McKenna says, looking sympathetic. “Not the Delaney sibling you were hoping for?”

“It’s fine,” I sigh. “It’s good. I’m glad you’re here. Especially with booze and dessert. Come on in.”

She follows me into the kitchen, and I go through the motions of getting out bowls and glasses. She pours, and I scoop. When she sets down the bottle, I consider it and the mound of chocolaty goodness in my bowl. Then I pick up the rum and drizzle a healthy portion on top.

McKenna arches her eyebrow. “Oh, is that how we’re doing this?”

“I believe in going all out, even if it’s just for my own pity party. Also, everything is better with alcohol.”

“Hmm.” The sound is skeptical, but she grabs the bottle and doctors her own bowl. She raises her glass to me. “Cheers?”

I laugh roughly and clink mine to hers. The gulp of rum I take burns from the top of my throat all the way down to my gut. It doesn’t loosen the knot there one bit.

McKenna pushes the thick frames of her glasses up on her nose. “I take it the tour conversation did not go well.”

“That’s one way of putting it. A very accurate way of putting it.” I groan, thinking of the gossip. “How obvious were we?”

“You put on a decent show, but I know you guys too well to be fooled. But never mind what everyone else thinks. What are you thinking?”

I slump lower in my seat. “That I was stupid to get so caught up. That I should have asked more about what he was thinking earlier.” And also there’s a little, painful piece of me that’s thinking maybe it didn’t have to go this way. Maybe if I’d been cooler, sexier, something-er, Drew wouldn’t have been in such a hurry to take off again.

Except I don’t know how to be that person. I’m the one who gets looked over when some shiny new opportunity comes along. I should be used to that by now, right?

“Hey, I didn’t see it coming either.” McKenna looks upset. “Seriously. He seemed happy. With you, and with the work he’s doing now—happier than he sounded when he talked about the ‘glory’ days.”

I suck down a spoonful of ice cream. “But think about it . . . he has a shot at that all over again. Fame, money, constant adoration . . . How can I compete with that?”

“Don’t say that.” McKenna gulps her drink. “He took off from the party before I could say anything, but I’ll talk to him. We’ll figure this out. ”

A flush of humiliation washes over me. “Don’t. I don’t want him to think— It’s his life, he should live it however he wants. I’m not going to try to get in the way of that.”

McKenna waves her spoon at me. “Well, firstly, I’d be talking to him for me, because as his sister I’d like to know what’s going on in his head. And secondly, you shouldn’t have to pretend you’re not upset. You two had something.”

“I thought we did,” I say sadly, and my throat chokes up. Before I can find my voice again, the growl of a car engine carries through the front of the house. It cuts off. The driver’s door squeaks open with the familiar sound of “Dad still hasn’t found the time to put a little oil on those hinges.”

My back stiffens. “Shit. My parents are home. Come on, upstairs, quick.”

I stuff the ice cream tub into the freezer, shove the bottle of rum under my arm, and grab my glass and bowl. McKenna gathers hers and hustles after me to the stairs.

“Why are we running away from your parents?”

“They thought I was going to be out with Drew all night. As soon as they see me here, they’ll know something went wrong.” The last thing I want to do right now is hash out my latest romantic disaster with my mom.

We dash into my bedroom just as the front door swings open. I tug the bedroom door shut and flick off the light. The glow under the door would be enough to give me away.

McKenna giggles. “Why do I feel like we’re kids again—ouch!”

There’s a faint thump as she bumps against the chair by my desk.

“Shh.” I wade through the darkness to set my dishes on the bedside table.

“You know, I think I still have . . .” I whisper, and reach my hand under the bed. My fingers close around the handle of a flashlight. I pull it out and try the switch. A yellow beam bounces off the wall. Too faint to spill all the way to the door.

I set the flashlight on the floor, standing on its end so it points at the ceiling, and sit down with my back against the side of the bed. McKenna hunkers down on the other side of the room by my desk. The thin glow lights up her wry smile.

“Like one of those old sleepovers,” she murmurs. “Seeing how late we can stay up talking without your mom realizing we’re still not asleep. But with better refreshments.” She raises her glass and takes another sip from it. Her gaze wanders through the room—and stops on the poster over my bed. Her smile grows.

“Don’t even start,” I say under my breath, pointing at her. “I moved out when I was eighteen. And I didn’t think I’d be sticking around long enough now for it to be worth redecorating.”

“Has Drew seen that?” she says, sounding amused.

I give a sort of half nod, half shrug to the affirmative. The memory swims up of him sneaking in, catching me dancing to his song. He was so sweet and playful about it. And then . . .

The knot in my stomach tightens. I grab my glass, but not quickly enough. McKenna’s expression softens.

“Oh, Maggie . . .”

The stairs creak. I jam my finger against my lips, and McKenna’s mouth snaps shut. We sit there in silence in the eerie flashlight glow as my parents reach the second floor. Muted murmurs pass through the wall. The pipes hum. Finally, their bedroom door thumps shut behind them. I lower my hand. With Lulu’s old room between theirs and mine, they won’t be able to hear us talking now, as long as we keep it down.

“Do you think we can risk turning on the light now?” McKenna asks.

I grimace. “Let’s not. Anyway, this ambiance suits my mood just fine.” I drain the rest of my rum and open the bottle to pour in another measure.

McKenna holds out her hand. I pass her the bottle, and she tops her glass up too. But then she just looks at it, swirling the amber liquid. She raises her head to fix her gaze on me.

“You really like him, don’t you?”

I make a dismissive gesture, but I can feel my throat closing up again. “I should have known better. I mean, we never talked about the future. We never made any promises. We never even agreed we were exclusive!” I exclaim. “But somehow, I still wound up falling for him. Like, really falling—”

Oh, shit. I’m tearing up again. I wipe at my eyes, feeling like an idiot.

“Oh, babe . . .” McKenna scoots across the floor to sit beside me and puts her arm around me. I lean into her, swallowing a sob.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t— I didn’t have the right to expect any kind of commitment, or whatever. But it still hurts, that I didn’t even factor into his plans. I can’t remember the last time I felt that way about someone. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt like this before.” I pause. “I know it was just a few weeks, but I’m in love with him.”

“Did you tell him that?” McKenna asks.

Just the thought of admitting it to him after tonight makes my entire body tense up. He’d think I was ridiculous.

“It doesn’t matter. Obviously what he loves is the spotlight, or he wouldn’t be chasing back after it. The two of us together, it would never work out. He’ll be out there soaking up the fame, a new city every night, new girls throwing themselves at him . . . That story has only one ending.”

McKenna cocks her head. “Do you really think so? Even when he’s older and wiser now? Well, wiser being somewhat up for debate.”

My mouth twitches despite myself, but that doesn’t change my answer. “It doesn’t matter. He didn’t ask me if I wanted to make it work. He didn’t involve me at all. So he’ll go have his career, and I’ll go have mine, and that’s where we’re meant to leave this.”

“That sounds pretty depressing to me.”

“Only because I let myself think it was going to be more,” I say sadly. “But it was always just temporary. There’s nothing wrong with that. We had fun together, and now that’s over.”

“You’re not really okay with that.”

“I can be,” I say. “I will be. I’ve got lots of other stuff going on in my life.”

But the words ring hollow. Because for the first time, I had a dream other than total baking world domination. I had a glimpse of something more.

A man who supported me, and cheered me on, and who was even willing to make a damn fool of himself to help me out.

And now he’s gone.