“No.”
“That’s right. She was gone before the candy ran out.”
“Leave him alone. You know how he is. Besides, he’s only eighteen. He can date around if he wants.”
“I never understood the impulse.”
“Not everyone meets their soul mate at seventeen. In fact, most people don’t,” Meg says.
“I feel bad for most people,” Whit teases. I peek around the corner and see Whit plant a big kiss on Meg’s lips.
My heart sinks as I follow Fitz into the dark, thoughts of Fiona Rowe crowding my brain. To Whit’s credit, Fiona was all over Fitz’s Instagram a year ago on Halloween. They wore a couple’s costume to some jock party, and three days later he told her they were better off as friends. He then picked me up and we drove around town with the windows down, eating sour gummy worms until we were sick.
The basement is colder than the main floor, and I shiver involuntarily as Fitz fumbles along the wall to find the light switch. He flips it on, revealing two threadbare couches, an empty fireplace, a mini fridge, and a pool table in the corner. He drops my duffel by the couch. “It’s pretty drafty down here, but it’ll warm up once the fire’s started. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge, obviously. You’re staying down the hall, across from Jane.” He stacks wood in the fireplace as he talks. When I don’t respond, he glances over his shoulder expectantly. “What’s wrong?”
“That was awkward.”
“What was?” He frowns.
“That conversation with your brother-in-law. Everyone here is expecting Molly.”
“No, they’re not. I told everyone that you were coming. Whit doesn’t pay attention.” He laughs, like the thought of me as his girlfriend is the biggest joke in the world.
I clear my throat, forcing my voice into a totally calm, not-at-all-jealous register. “You didn’t tell me that you invited Molly to the cabin.”
“Oh.” His eyes flick to mine. “Is that important?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
“When you did it.”
Fitz watches me steadily, weighing his response. “That night on the water tower.”
Of course. He wanted her to come, and she said no, which makes me nothing more than a consolation. Second choice, forever and always. I knew this trip was too good to be true. I’m not the girl who gets a romantic mountain getaway with the boy of her dreams. I’m the girl building her life on an endless parade of wrong choices. It’s all I can do to blink back my tears, too mortified to say anything at all.
“Hey. No. No. Whatever you’re thinking is wrong,” Fitz says. The tenderness in his voice makes my bones ache. He stands, grabbing a fuzzy blanket from the couch, and tosses it to me. I wrap it tightly around my shoulders, wishing I could believe him.
My phone buzzes with a text from Mom. Landed safely in New York! Are you at the cabin yet?
My heart sinks.
Why am I here when I could be there?
My throat burns with the Herculean effort of holding back tears as I tap out a quick reply to Mom.
“Are we okay?” Fitz asks.
No. “Yep.” I keep my eyes glued to my screen so he won’t see the building tears.
Footsteps sound on the stairs and Mrs. Wilding appears. She’s in her late fifties, with elegant gray streaks in her brown hair. “You made it! I was thinking—” She cuts herself off, hesitating as she takes in my teary expression. “Should I come back?”
“No! It’s fine. I’m fine!” I swipe a hand across my nose and force a smile.
“Did you get all your stuff in okay? Fitz showed you your bedroom?”
“He was just about to. Thanks, Mrs. Wilding.”
“Call me Noelle, please,” she reminds me for the hundredth time. “And if you need anything, let me know.”
“Actually, if I want to get back to the valley this week, is there a bus or something?”
“Hold up. You’re leaving?” Fitz asks.
“Oh no! We’re so excited to have you here, and I promised your mom we’d take care of you.”
“She’s not leaving,” Fitz says.
“I just remembered … I have to feed the neighbor’s dog.”
“Really? That’s the excuse you’re going with?” he asks dryly.
Mrs. Wilding’s eyes dart from her son to me. “I’ll leave you two to talk.” She retreats back to the main floor.
“What was that?”
“I should probably visit my dad,” I say weakly.
He narrows his eyes. “I know when you’re lying.”
I sigh, exhaling all the built-up tension from my body in a single breath. I can do this. I can be normal and fine and not completely devastated to be the replacement girl. It’s fine. I’m fine.
“You’re right. I’m here, and I’m staying.”
Relief shines big and bright in his eyes. “Let’s go upstairs. Gray is so much bigger than last time you saw him, and Meg is excited to hang with us.”
Meg’s words ring in my head: You know how he is.
What she meant, of course, is that Fitz dates too much and brings home too many girls. And now they think I’m one of them. Their expectation alone might kill me. I picture Fitz’s sisters sitting around the fire, gossiping about me, making bets about how long before I become Fitz’s next project.
“I can’t go up there. Your family has the wrong idea about this trip. They think I’m here as one of your girls—”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t play innocent. I want them to know I’m not your next heartbreak.”
Hurt flashes across his features. “Fine. What exactly would you like me to tell them?”
“Tell them we’re just friends, and nothing is ever going to happen between us.” I train my gaze on my shoes so he won’t see what the words cost me.
“Is that all?” His voice is flat.
I nod, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
“Done. Follow me. Your room’s this way.”
The small room is at the end of a short hall, next to the bathroom. It has a queen-sized bed with a patchwork quilt, a narrow strip of window that looks out on the forest floor, and a bedside table with a baseball glove that Fitz probably hasn’t worn in years. I run my fingers over the soft quilt, trying to imagine a younger Fitz sleeping here, spending his summers playing catch and running through the surrounding pine trees.
“I don’t want to take your room. I can sleep on the couch, or—”
He waves away my comment. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping here anyway.”
Right. Molly. He wanted her in this room, sleeping in his sheets. Fresh tears build behind my eyes, only this time there’s no anger. Only hurt. Will I ever stop allowing myself to be disappointed by this boy?
I sink down onto the bed and wrap my arms around my stomach in a desperate attempt to keep myself from crumbling. This is too much. I can’t do this. I underestimated how it would feel to spend Christmas with Fitz’s family. To have them mistake me for his girlfriend, to sleep in his bed, to know that lost somewhere in this cabin is a letter highlighting every embarrassing thought and feeling I’ve had over the last two years.