As soon as Celia and I are seated in the bar, she flags down the bartender and has him bring us a couple of vodkas. He asks if we want tomato juice with that and Celia glares at him.

“Do we look like two women who want tomato juice with that?”

“No ma’am,” he says stiffly, then shuffles off to get our drinks.

Celia turns to me, holding my hand across the table.

“Tell me everything,” she says.

And I do. As soon as the bartender drops off our drinks, I tell her every detail, from the moment Wes and I made our agreement, to the way it felt to be with him again after all these years. Every gory, mushy, humiliating detail. And then I tell her about how he was using me all along, that I was nothing more than a means to an end.

The whole time I’m talking, Celia’s frown deepens. When I’m done, she downs the last of her drink.

“You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?” I ask, burying my head in my hands.

“Oh my God, Rori, no!” She seems horrified by the thought. I smile weakly, but I can see her gnawing at her lip.

“What? You’re just humoring me, aren’t you? I really am an idiot.”

“No! Stop it. That’s not it at all. It’s just …”

“What?”

“It’s just … that doesn’t sound like Wes.”

I roll my eyes. “You’ve known him less than twenty-four hours. I’ve known him over fifteen years. I think I’m a better judge of his character.” I bat my glass lightly back and forth between my palms, then snort. “And even I fell for his bullshit.”

“Maybe,” Celia says reluctantly. “It’s just … God, the way he looked at you, Rori. I honestly don’t think he could fake that.”

“Oh, he could. Trust me. Wes is a master of manipulation. That much is obvious now.”

Celia doesn’t say anything for a minute. She flicks at her glass distractedly.

“Are you sure, though? I mean, I know you know him better than I do, but maybe that makes me a more objective observer. And to this outsider, he looked head over heels for you.”

“He told me he was in love with me,” I admit.

“That’s great!”

“No, it isn’t.” I glare at her.

“Sorry, that came out wrong. I just mean, why wouldn’t you believe him?”

“Because. I have no reason to believe anything he says at this point.”

“Okay. Let’s look at this objectively. What does he have to gain by telling you he loves you?”

“To hurt me even more,” I mutter.

“Come on. Even if we accept that he uses people to get what he wants, straight-up sadism doesn’t seem to be his game. What if it’s possible that … he actually meant it?”

I hate to hand it to Celia, but she has a point. And he had seemed genuinely upset in the hotel room. But thinking about the hotel room only makes me think about our kiss, and that makes me feel weak, so I force myself to put the whole thing out of my mind.

“Well,” I allow. “Even if he meant that part, how am I supposed to forgive him for this? I just can’t believe I’m in this position again. Fool me once, shame on you — fool me twice, shame on me and all that.”

Celia shakes her head. Her dark hair is down but it still has some of yesterday’s curl in it. When I look closely, I can even see a faint dusting of glitter across her collarbone. I groan.

“I’m really sorry, Celia. I can’t believe I’m keeping you here when you should be with Jace.”

Celia waves away my comment. “Don’t be crazy. Remember when you flew out to Chicago for me, when Jace and I got together? That fell right smack dab in the middle of best friend territory, and so does this. Now, are you feeling at least a little bit better? Or do we need to get more vodka?”

I laugh and shake my head. “No more vodka. After all, it’s not even noon.”

“Fair point. But are you feeling better?”

“I don’t know. No. But I guess I will be, eventually. I just need some time to process.”

“Of course you do. And that’s totally normal. Call me any time this week, okay? I don’t care if I’m on my honeymoon, I can still make time for you.”

Her words bring another wave of tears to my eyes.

“How did I get so lucky to find you?”

“Easy. You ended up with a shitty roommate in freshman year, just like I did. Oh, and also you were awesome.”

I laugh, wiping at my eyes with a cocktail napkin.

“I love you, you know that?”

“I love you too, you train wreck.”

Instead of stinging, her comment makes me dissolve into a fit of tearful giggles.

“Oh my God, I am a train wreck, aren’t I? When did that happen?”

“Just a little bit. It’s why I love you. Now let’s get out of here, shall we?”

We make our way into the hotel lobby, arm in arm. We’re nearly at the elevators when I hear a voice calling out my name.

I spin around, heart in my throat, but it’s only my sister Blake.

She runs across the glossy marble floor, pink flip-flops slapping. Her blonde hair is disheveled, and she has dark mascara streaks under her eyes. I wonder for a second if she even made it back to her room last night. She was dancing pretty hard. But that’s Blake — always up for a good time, and never a thought to what the next morning will hold. I kind of admire that about her.

“We were looking for you everywhere. Mom and Dad and I are heading home now and we wanted to say goodbye before we left.”

I glance behind her and see my parents straggling along, Dad lugging their suitcase behind him. They look a little worse for wear this morning too. I guess everyone had a good time last night.

I give Celia a long hug and whisper a heartfelt thank you into her ear, and then she escapes into the elevator with a quick wave to my parents before they reach us.

“Rori, what’s wrong?” Mom says, as soon as she’s within a few feet of me.

“Nothing, why?”

“You look …” she trails off, biting her lip. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.”

She reaches into her purse — a giant straw thing with a woven sunflower on the front of it — and pulls out a tissue. She hands it to me.

“I’m fine,” I say again, but when I dab the tissue to my eyes, it comes away wet. I wipe frantically at my face. “I just hate saying goodbye to Celia again, that’s all.”

“Aw.” Mom’s face softens. “You girls have such a special friendship. It’s too bad you live so far away from each other.” She pauses. “But we will kill you if you move to Chicago. You know that, right?”

I laugh. “Yes, Mom.”

“Now give us a hug before we go.”

I give both my parents a hug, and then Blake too. They make me promise to come visit soon, which I do, and then they slowly start to shuffle back through the lobby. They’re almost at the front door when the thought overtakes me.

“Wait!” I yell. “Wait!”

Dad stops, one hand already on the door. He turns, his face a mask of concern as I run towards them. “What’s wrong, Rori?”

“Got room in the car for one more?”

Mom claps her hands and lets out a girlish squeal. “Of course we do. What a question.”

She turns to face my dad. “Oh, maybe Emma would want to come too. We could have the whole family together. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

Dad nods. “It would be. Maybe one of the girls can text her.”

Blake and I exchange a snicker. My dad might be a wonderful, brilliant man, but the guy is absolutely terrified of texting. The few times he’s actually managed to send me something, he’s always written it formally, like a letter — starting with Dear Rori, and ending with Love, Dad. It’s kind of adorable, actually.

“Where is Emma, anyway?” I ask, looking around and realizing I haven’t seen her all morning.

“Oh, she went to the gym,” Blake says, rolling her eyes. “She said Sundays are cardio day and why would she miss cardio day just because she went to a wedding last night?” I can tell by the sour expression on her face exactly what she thinks of this logic. I can’t say I disagree. Then again, maybe I should think of being less of a train wreck and more like Emma The Perfect. Then I wouldn’t be crying my eyes out in a hotel lobby like a total freak.

“I’ll text her,” I tell Dad. “It would be nice to have everyone together.”

As I text Emma, I realize it’s been a whole five minutes since I’ve thought about Wes. I honestly didn’t think that was possible. Maybe escaping to my parents’ for a couple of days is exactly what I need to put him out of my mind completely.