My dad took over the conversation during lunch. I tried to force myself to pay attention, answer questions and be engaged, but most of me was preoccupied with trying to fix the fantastic f**k-up I was pretty sure was left in the wake of Dylan’s touchy behavior towards me. Seriously, what the f**k was that!?

I tried to reach for Nolan’s hand under the table more than once, but she always kept it at a distance. She was pleasant and smiled fondly at my dad when he spoke; she tolerated my mother, who never once even acknowledged her, and she conversed with Dylan about her classes and working in special education. But I was clearly cut out, and that was made extremely clear as soon as we left the restaurant, said our goodbyes and climbed back into the car for me to drive her back to Coolidge.

“Noles, I’m so sorry to spring that on you like that, let me explain…” I started before she turned to look at me and clicked her seatbelt, her teeth gritted and mouth shut tight.

“Nothing to explain, Reed,” she said flatly, almost removed from the conversation. She just turned to face forward again, pulled her purse to her lap and began looking through it, avoiding me.

I reached over to stop her, and she jerked to the side. “It’s fine, really,” she said, still looking through her purse.

“Nolan, come on,” I grabbed at her wrist now.

“What do you want me to say, Reed?” she was yelling now. Yelling is better than avoiding, so this was progress. “Do you want me to say that Dylan is awesome? That I like her a lot, and that I’m super excited she’s going to make your life decisions with you, because she’s born into some fancy privileged family and came out of the womb with a CEO title stamped on her f**king forehead and is just waiting for her time to run her daddy’s millions?”

“Woah,” she needed to slow down. “Noles, that’s a little unfair…”

She stopped me again, holding a flat hand to my face. “Don’t you f**king dare, Reed. Fair? I’m being unfair? I show up for my weekend with my boyfriend, and then I spend it watching some status-hungry woman gush over you, drape her body on you, and then treat me like I’m a kid getting to sit at the grown-ups’ table during lunch with Millie. Oh, and Millie…that’s just the icing on the cake. I was f**king invisible to her, which—don’t get me wrong—is usually preferable. But not when she’s busy fawning over the daughter-in-law she’s clearly hoping to have in front of me? My replacement she’s brought in, the one she approves of? Uhhhhg…” Nolan let it all out in one breath. She finally turned her face to look back out her window.

We drove the rest of the way to Coolidge in silence. It took almost an hour. Nolan didn’t make a single sound. She didn’t turn her head my way once, and the only movement she made was to check the time on her phone and to pull some ChapStick from her purse. I started to panic when I turned to drive down her parents’ street. We’d fought before. Hell, we were good at fighting. But since high school we never let a fight go without closure. Today gave me a bad feeling, though.

I pulled into her driveway and put my Jeep into park, half expecting her to bolt from my car and slam her door closed in my face. But she didn’t. She just sat there. I let my seatbelt go and turned my body to face her, my face resting on the headrest. She was just staring straight in front of her, looking lost. Damn it, I’ve done it.

“I’m sorry, Noles,” I was whispering, pleading now. “I didn’t want it to hit you all at once, and I sure as hell didn’t expect Dylan to be…well, who she is, or do whatever the hell it was she did. I just met her, and she made a lot of assumptions about how friendly we were. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

I reached for her hand, and she let me hold it this time, giving me hope. She let her head flop to the side so she could look me in the eyes now, and the damn water building in them was breaking my heart. I reached up to wipe away a tear just as it fell and then brought her hand to my lips to kiss it.

She finally took in a deep breath and bit her lip a little, readying herself to speak. “It’s not Dylan. Not really,” she just stopped. I reached up to wipe another tear, waiting for her to continue. I waited for minutes, just searching her eyes, which weren’t giving me anything. Unable to take it, I started.

“It’s the draft, I know. Nolan, what do you want me to do? I mean it. What do you want?” I couldn’t believe I was putting it out there like that, but I was scared. I was gambling that she’d give in, but was I really willing to wait if she asked me to? She took in a sharp breath and looked away again.