Bishop with a petite brunette tucked in to his side. It could be nothing. But it could be something too. Especially since he’s not angrily glaring at the camera. If it is something, I have no one to blame but myself, since I’m the one who said sleeping together was a mistake. I’m such an idiot.

“Looks like I really know how to pick ’em, huh?” I slap the phone against Joey’s chest.

When I try to walk away, he grips my wrist. “I’m sorry, Stevie. I just thought you should know.”

“Well, I know, so job well done. Can you let me go now?”

“I could take you out for coffee if you want to talk about it? I messed things up with you and me. I might not be able to fix it, but I could be a friend.”

I close my eyes and exhale slowly, searching for an ounce of composure. “You betrayed me and you tried to make it my fault.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shut up. You never apologized for what you did. You were only sorry because I found out. I’ll take ownership for my own mistake, which was dating you for a year in the first place. We never belonged together. I should never have agreed to move in with you. I used you, just like you used me, so we’re all squared up there.” This time when I move around him, he doesn’t try to stop me. “Oh, and I know you’re the one who uploaded that video last week, so you can drop all this fake concern. We are never going to be anything to each other ever again.” It feels good to finally unload all these months of pent-up frustration.

This time when I walk away from him, he doesn’t try to follow me.

Twenty minutes later I’m showered and dressed, but instead of feeling better, I feel infinitely worse. All I want to do is drown myself in pints of ice cream. I poke my head out of the change room, checking for signs of Joey, but he’s finally taken the hint. I should’ve done that ages ago. At least I’ve stood up for myself, and maybe Joey will finally leave me alone, which is all I really wanted in the first place.

I drag myself to the front entrance, phone in hand, as I search social media for the image I saw on Joey’s phone, weighed down by emotions I don’t know what to do with. That picture was taken three days ago: about the same time Bishop sent me the message that we needed to talk. Here I was prepared to tell him I was in, and he may have very well already been out.

I’m about to message Pattie to tell her I’m on my way over and that I’ll need a gallon of ice cream when I notice I have new texts from Lainey. I love my sister-in-law. She’s stayed incredibly impartial during this whole thing, and I sincerely appreciate her lack of sides taken.

I check her messages, hoping she’ll provide news on when my brother is supposed to be home, because that will also tell me when Bishop will be back.

Lainey: are you home?

Me: at the clinic

Lainey: on a Saturday?????

Me: just went for a swim, needed to burn some energy, heading to Pattie and Jules’, what’s up?

Lainey: Just seeing what you’re up to, message me later!

A video of Kody with a face covered in chocolate pudding telling me he loves me follows. She’s been doing daily checkins all week. I fire back a series of heart-eyes emojis.

I message Pattie and Jules as I head toward their house. I’m halfway there when a car pulls up beside me and slows to match my walking speed. It would be just my luck to be kidnapped today.

I’m about to tell whoever it is to screw off when I realize the car is familiar, and so is the person driving it. “Need a lift?” RJ smiles sheepishly.

“I thought you guys weren’t supposed to be home until later this afternoon?” It’s not the best greeting, but it’s true.

“A storm was rolling in so we flew out early. Lainey told me you were heading over to your friends’ place, and I figured I’d try and catch you on the way.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Can we grab a quick coffee or something?”

“Okay. Sure.” I get in the car and fire another message to Pattie and Jules to let them know I’m with my brother.

He doesn’t have a chance to say much of anything because the coffee shop is less than fifty feet down the road. He pulls into the drive-through, and I opt for an iced frappé thing. It’s somewhat close to ice cream.

“I owe you an apology,” RJ says once we have our coffees and are parked on the street.

“For what?”

“About the whole thing with Bishop. I was wrong about him.”

And of course I burst into tears, because I really thought he was wrong and now I’m not so sure. To his credit, RJ doesn’t panic like most guys would. Maybe because he married a woman with an anxiety disorder, and sometimes that anxiety manifests in tears.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He reaches across the seat and gives the back of my neck a squeeze, which actually makes me cry harder because that’s exactly what Bishop would do, and I’m pretty sure I screwed that right the hell up.

I can’t answer that question because I’ve turned into a snot-sobbing mess, so I pull up the image that Joey showed me less than half an hour ago and thrust it at RJ. I wail, “I think he’s already over it.” I’m not sure I’m even remotely intelligible.

“This is what you’re upset about?” RJ asks.

“He’s posing! He never does that. Ever. He always looks like someone’s shit on his breakfast when people try to take pictures of him, but he actually looks not pissed off here, and I’ve been miserable for the past week!” I say all this between hiccups and sobs. It’s pretty extra, even for me.