The sun is warm as it shines through the windows of my condo. I passed out last night after drinking three too many glasses of wine and taking a couple Tylenol PM. I don’t think I’ve slept that hard since I was a kid, but apparently, I needed it.

My first thoughts are of Roan, and I roll to grab my phone. After reading his message, I listen to his voice mail, and my heart misses a beat.

She’s gone and won’t be back.

I dial his number, waiting for him to grace me with his voice, to calm my weary insides, but his phone just rings and sends me to voice mail. I hang up and send him a text instead.

Me: Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry for you. Call me.

I press send and close my eyes. The haunting images of Roan’s gorgeous ex-wife plague me, tossing me back and forth between jealousy and fury. I could only imagine what he went through seeing her again. How he had to deal with the fallout by himself. My feet hit the floor, and I’m getting dressed before I even realize it. I have to go to him.

On the drive, I contemplate grabbing some Starbucks, but really, I just want to see Roan. As I pull down his street, I check my phone to see if he messaged or called me at all, but he hasn’t.

When his house comes into view, my foot lifts from the gas pedal, my whole body a sudden ball of nerves when I see a car in his driveway. Georgia. She’s getting out of the driver’s side and is dressed in the same clothes as yesterday. She has a tray of drinks, four drinks to be exact, in her hand and a bag of food in the other. Why would Roan say she was gone? Did she stay the night?

I drive by as tears cloud my vision and go straight to my brother’s house. How could this be happening? How could he take her back after all this time? It has to be because of the girls, but he didn’t even talk to me first. Was he just going to forget about anything we ever shared? No. That wasn’t Roan. He wouldn’t do that. So, why was she there in the same clothes?

Finally, I pull up to Chandler’s, rush to the door, and pound on it as if my next breath depends on him opening it, which is exactly how I feel right now.

“Chandler!” I call out, feeling myself losing my grip on reality. Then my tired and barely dressed brother answers the door.

“You okay?” he asks as I hurtle myself into his arms.

He holds me back, my grip is fierce around him as a sob rips from me and the tears finally fall in rivers down my face.

“You have to calm down,” he tells me, but I can barely breathe as he guides me to his couch and urges me to take a seat. “Sit, I’m gonna put some pants on.”

I nod, falling into the sofa.

When he’s back, he takes my hand in his and asks, “What happened?”

“I-I . . .” My words are a stutter, and I take a deep breath, knowing being this upset is not good. “I went to Roan’s today, and she’s there.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“I swear to God, she was bringing them breakfast, but last night, he left me a message saying she was gone and wouldn’t be back.”

“Have you talked to him yet? I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

“No, and I think she stayed the night, she was wearing the same clothes.”

There is a long pause, and if I listen close enough, I could probably hear the hiss of my brother’s anger rising. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker.”

“Stop it,” I tell him, swiping an angry hand across my cheek.

“I mean it.”

“Would you be serious right now? You aren’t going to go over there and kill him.”

“Yes, I fucking am!” he shouts at me, and I place my head in my hands. Arguing with Chandler about killing Roan is not what I need. I need his help, and I need him to tell me what to do.

“You will not.” My words sound final, and he glares. “I need you to call him and see if you can get a read on things.”

“Fine.” He huffs and grabs his phone from the other room, and when he returns, he has the receiver up to his ear. My insides are a huge mess, waiting for Roan to answer. I worry that if he does, he’s ignoring me on purpose.

“What up, bitch? I’m not sure what the fuck is going on, but I need you to call me, like ASAP!”

He hangs up, and I shake my head, not sure what to do. The only thing I can think is that he’s trying to decide if he wants to make things work with her. “You wanna go over there and find out what the hell is going on?”

“No, not with the girls home. I don’t want to cause any issues.”

“I don’t give a shit about issues. This whole situation is fucked up! You’re a mess, and he’s not doing a damn thing to make it right. I’m not okay with that.”

Maybe my brother is right. Maybe we should go over there to see what’s going on. But, Jesus, I don’t want to pull the girls into this. My very next thought is the one that pulls me to my feet. I wasn’t the one who did this. Georgia did that by showing up like she did.