“I need your help, Casey.”

There’s lots of moaning and breathing come through the line and I’m contemplating hanging up. “Why? What did you do now?”

I chew on my fingernails and then drop my hand when I taste the polish I’m chewing on. “What’s that noise?”

“We’re newlyweds. What do you think the noise is?”

I can’t say I blame her. “Can you stop for a minute?”

“No. Bryan has to work later. We’re in a hurry. I’m ovulating.”

It takes me a minute to understand exactly what she said. Ovulating. What’s that mean?

And then it hits me. “Holy shit. You’re trying to have a baby?”

Casey laughs, kind of breathless and then I hear, “Fuck, get off the phone, baby. . . .” Lots of heavy breathing follow. . . and sloppy noises, like they’re kissing.

As much as I want to hang up, I don’t. “I seriously need your help, Casey. I love him. He’s won.”

“And the problem?”

I throw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know.” That’s the problem, I don’t. I thought I knew what love was. I thought I knew how it felt and told myself I’d never feel that way again. Then Tathan pushed his way into my life, rewrote my ending, and I realized I’d torn out a few pages in hopes I’d forget that feeling.

One thing is certain. My life will never be the same again. Because of that jerk. Tathan. I’m talking about Tathan.

Casey sighs. “Amalie, there is absolutely nothing wrong with falling in love with Tathan. You’re being ridiculous. Just tell him.”

“He’s in Santa Monica shooting a wedding.”

“Tell him when he gets back.” And then the line goes dead, and I’m assuming Bryan hung up on me because I’d like to think Casey wouldn’t do such a thing in my time of need.

I GO FOR a swim that afternoon—avoiding the hot tub like I said I would—and then I take Oliver for a walk. The whole time, I can’t stop thinking about Tathan and wondering if he’s made it to Santa Barbara yet. I make a mental note that if I don’t hear from him by seven tonight, I’m calling all the hospitals from here to California and checking on him.

I’m so paranoid. I’ve always been that way.

My body jolts forward when Oliver yanks on his leash, barking at something in the distance. He’s getting big enough now I can’t pick him up when he’s being naughty, like now, when he decides to chase a lizard up the stairs.

Stumbling around, I yank on his leash. “Dude, lizards don’t taste good. Why are you chasing him?”

Just as we get to the top of the stairs, Oliver comes to an abrupt halt, and I do a tumble over the top of him and land on my back staring up at the sky.

A woman in black strappy pumps stands next to me, her legs looking like they go all the way to heaven. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I scoff, glaring at my dog I might put in a box on the side of the road later with a Free sign. I won’t, but my sore ass is contemplating it. “You’re a jerk, Oliver.”

He doesn’t listen to me. He’s too busy staring at the lizard on the wall, taunting him.

The woman reaches for my hand, helping me up. I stand, brushing off my swimsuit cover-up, and then eye black strappy pumps in front of me. Mostly because do you see whose door she’s standing at? The one across the hall.

Do you happen to notice she has a key in her hand?

Let’s think about this for a moment, shall we? Maybe he has a really attractive maid he didn’t tell me about? Long lost sister I didn’t know about? Cousin? And dare I ask. . . aunt?

She looks to be around my age, and as if she’s straight out of a Cosmopolitan magazine cover. Long, waist-length blonde hair that has that blown-out beachy effortless waves look, with golden skin, bright blue eyes. . . absolutely nothing like me and my dark hair, “I never dye it” pale and “I never take my clothes off” skin.

She smiles at me over her shoulder and unlocks his door.

Un.

Locks.

It.

“Are you Tathan’s neighbor?”

Oliver, who’s standing next to me now, concerned for his mommy and her rapid heartbeat, I’m sure, growls at her. I yank on his leash. “You could say that.”

“Oh, well. . . .” Leaving the door open, she moves across the hall and reaches for my hand. “I’m Tathan’s fiancée. Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.”

What.

The.

Fuck.

You’re thinking it too, aren’t you? I fell in love with a liar. Again.

Fuck love. Straight up, fuck you, love.

I hate you.