“Okay, sister dearest, it’s Sunday night. You’ve been in bed all weekend. It’s time to spend at least a couple of hours sitting upright and eating some vegetables.”

Emma tears off my blankets, leaving me sprawled on my bed in my Christmas tree pajamas, which were the only ones I could find Friday night, when I put them on. Yes, I’ve been wearing the same pajamas since Friday, when I crawled home from the office and got into bed. I’ve been here since then, binge-watching sitcoms and trying to make myself forget about Wes.

Emma thrusts a clear plastic tumbler into my hand. It’s filled with some kind of sludgy green liquid.

“What the hell is this, Em?”

“Green smoothie. I figured I probably wouldn’t be able to get you to eat any actual vegetables, but maybe I could disguise them for you.”

“They aren’t exactly disguised.” I tilt the drink and watch the green goop slide along the walls of the tumbler.

“You won’t taste them, I promise. Drink up.”

I take a hesitant sip and surprisingly, she’s right. It tastes like a regular fruit smoothie.

“I told you,” Emma says smugly. She grabs my pillow and strips the case off, then grabs the sheet underneath me and tugs on it. I go rolling off the side of the bed.

“Jesus, Emma!” I barely manage to hold on to my drink.

“Sorry, but these sheets probably stink. Wouldn’t you rather go to bed tonight in nice fresh ones?”

I grunt, which Emma takes as a yes. She smirks as she gathers the sheets into a ball.

“Now you’re going to have a shower, put on clean pajamas, and I’m going to make up your bed. Tomorrow is Monday and you know what Mondays are?”

“Terrible?”

“Har har. No. They’re the best time for a fresh start. And that’s exactly what you need.”

I take another sip of the green drink and glare at her. “A fresh start is a little easier said than done, you know.”

“I know that.” Emma rolls her eyes. “But even if it’s hard, it’s going to be impossible if you don’t at least try.”

Touché. I throw back more of the juice and fake a grimace. I refuse to let her know that it’s actually freaking delicious.

“Yeah, yeah.” She shoos me out of the room. “Go get in the shower before I have to call in the hazmat teams.”

I stumble into the bathroom and peel off the pajamas — which admittedly are a bit gross at this point — and climb into the shower. Much as I hate to admit it, Emma is right. I feel better when I get out. More like myself, at least. Less like a rank beast.

When I come out of the bathroom, I find Emma has made up my bed with fresh clean sheets, in the palest of yellows. They’re hers, I realize, and my heart swells a little at the idea of my sister taking care of me in this way.

“Thanks Emma,” I say, throwing back the last of the smoothie, which I’d left on my bureau.

“Of course,” she says. “You’d do the same for me.”

“Except the difference is, I’d never need to.”

Emma’s lips purse into a smile. “I’m not perfect, you know.”

“Sure.”

She studies her nails for a minute — lilac this week, and not a chip on them, of course.

“You know that book I’ve been working on?”

“Yeah?”

She pauses again, then looks up at me. “The proposal’s been rejected by six publishers so far.”

“Shit, Emma, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know. I guess it makes me feel like a failure.”

“You’re not a failure at all! You’re putting yourself out there. That’s amazing. Someone will bite on it eventually. Did you know at least eighty percent of authors get rejected more than ten times before they get accepted?” I mean, I don’t actually know that for a fact, but it feels like something I’ve read somewhere.

Emma forces a smile. “Thanks. I’m trying to be positive and hope it’ll happen eventually, but it’s getting a bit discouraging.”

I wrap my arms around her in a spontaneous hug. She stiffens for a minute, then hugs me back.

“I think you’re awesome,” I tell her. “And your book is going to be awesome and you just need to wait until the right awesome publisher finds it. You’ll find the right match for you, I know it.”

Emma smiles, sniffling a little.

“Thanks. That’s sweet of you to say. And look, the same thing is true for you. Some day you’re going to meet the right match, and Wes Lake is going to seem like nothing but a distant memory.”

Instantly, my good mood plummets. Wes. I know Emma means well, but the thought of meeting someone else is about as appealing as the thought of eating tainted chicken. I don’t want to meet someone else. I want him to not be an asshole. I want to not have been wrong about him.

But since that’s not going to happen, I guess Emma is right. I have to look to the future. I don’t feel like dating right now, but I’m sure some day I will. Someday, just like Emma said, I’ll meet someone else and it’ll be like Wes never even happened.

So why does that thought make me feel even worse?

“Thanks,” I manage. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Emma teases. “I get paid to be right, remember?”

I roll my eyes, but we’re interrupted by my phone, which blares angrily from my bedside table. For a second, my heart skips a beat. I have the strangest idea that it might be Wes. If he called right now, I would talk to him, I decide. Call it a moment of weakness, but I’d hear him out.

Except when I pick up the phone, I see it isn’t Wes but Celia.

“Hello?”

“Wow, could you be any less enthusiastic?”

“Sorry,” I laugh. “I thought you might be someone else.”

“Ah.” I clearly don’t have to say anymore. “Sorry, sweetie. I guess you two still haven’t worked things out then, huh?”

“No. And I don’t think we will.”

“Well. Never lose hope.”

“A little late for that. Now what the hell are you calling me for? Aren’t you in Hawaii?”

“Yes, but I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. You aren’t supposed to be thinking about me.”

“Oh, come on. You’re my best friend, and you’re hurting. Of course I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Well, I hope not at any … critical … moments,” I tease.

Celia giggles. “No, I confess I haven’t exactly been thinking about you a hundred percent of the time.”

“Good. So how’s Hawaii?”

“Oh my God, Rori, it’s amazing. You have to come here some time. Maybe we can do a girls’ trip. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever been.”

“That’s awesome, Cee. I’m glad you guys are having fun.”

“That reminds me,” she says. I can hear her hesitating over something.

“What?”

“Can you send me Wes’s mailing address when you get a minute? No rush, just sometime before we get back.”

“Wes? Why?”

“Look, I know you’re not talking to him, but my mother would kill me if I didn’t send him a thank-you card for the amazing wedding gift he got us.”

“He got you a gift? But I put his name on my card.”

“I know, but I guess he wanted to do something on his own. He booked us this unbelievable helicopter tour of the islands. We went practically right inside this volcano. Jace almost shit his pants.” She dissolves into giggles. “It was the best part of the honeymoon so far. Well, aside from, you know…”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say, but my mind is racing. Wes got them a gift? That’s really … sweet. And thoughtful.

And exactly like the Wes I wanted to believe he was.

“When did he do this?”

“Huh?”

“When did you get the gift? Did he do it after we got in this fight? Or before?”

“Oh, before. I had the email confirmation the day of the wedding. He got our booking information from our Loft & Barn registry.”

“Huh.”

“What, Rori?”

“Nothing.”

“That wasn’t nothing.”

“No, it’s just … I don’t know. That’s twice now that I’ve found out he’s gone and done something amazing without me even knowing. He also spent fifty thousand dollars buying me a dinky little keychain from an animal rescue group. That money is going to completely change their operations for at least a year. It’s beyond generous. It’s …”

“It’s Wes,” she finishes.

I don’t say anything for a minute. Then…

“Maybe. Yeah.”

“What are you going to do?”

I straighten up. “Nothing. This doesn’t really change anything. It’s sweet, but it doesn’t negate what he did.”

“Rori …”

“No, Celia, I mean it. I’m done with Wes Lake.”

“Okay…”

She doesn’t sound convinced, of course, but I’m not going to spend any more time arguing with her. I have to stick to my convictions on this one. In fact, tomorrow I’m going to do the thing I’ve been dreading — I’m going to tell Kyla everything, and let her know that we need to get out of our GoldLake contract. I know she’s not going to be happy about losing out on all that money, but it’s the only thing we can do.

I chat with Celia for a few more minutes and then let her go when she has to head off for dinner. By the time I hang up the phone, I’m feeling my resolve strengthen. Wes can spend his money on charities and helicopter rides if he wants to, but I’m not going to take another penny of it.