Butter whimpered at the door. Thea let him out back and heard Liv yawn and stretch on the couch behind her. Thea looked over her shoulder. “What time did you get home?”

“Around three.” Liv stretched an arm high above her head and made a long, tired noise as she sat up. “It was insane last night. We had the most obnoxious group come in late and order everything on the menu.” She flopped against the cushions. “I hate bachelor parties.”

Butter ran back inside and followed Thea into the kitchen, where he waited for his breakfast with a wagging tail and jumpy paws. After dumping a cup of food into his dish, Thea started brewing the coffee.

“You going to make me drag it out of you, or are you going to tell me how things went last night?” Liv asked.

Thea filled a mug with coffee, cream, and sugar and then sat down on a barstool to face her sister. No easier way to say it than just to say it. “He’s moving home tomorrow.”

Liv made a face like a possessed doll before squawking, “What?!”

Thea held up a hand. “It’s only for a month.”

“What the hell? Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

Liv hurtled over the back of the couch with remarkable vigor for someone who’d been dead to the world just three minutes ago. “What’s complicated about it? You were so sure about this. What the hell changed?”

“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.” And hit me where it hurts, she added silently. The minute he reminded her of how she used to be—impetuous, daring, ready for any challenge—all logic fled, and the next thing she knew, she was agreeing to it.

Liv shook her head. “What could he possibly offer you that would convince you to let him come back?”

Thea summarized Gavin’s words from last night. “If he can’t win me back by Christmas, he won’t contest any aspect of the divorce. He’ll give me whatever amount I want in child support, and he’ll pay off the house for us.”

An eerie calm settled over Liv’s face. Her eyelids blinked slowly and her lips went lax.

She turned and walked slowly to the fridge. Thea watched as her sister opened the door, robotically withdrew the orange juice, filled a glass, and then put the carton back. All seemed calm, but Thea knew her sister. Liv was like a sudden summer squall—a heavy quiet followed by a whipping wind and rain.

Thea looked at the clock on the microwave. Superstorm Liv making landfall in T-minus three, two, one—

Liv slammed her glass on the counter. “That manipulative sonuvabitch!”

Thea glanced at the stairs. “Keep your voice down!”

“He knows how much having a family home means to you because of how we grew up. He dangled the one thing that matters most to you in front of your face and knew you’d grab for it.”

Thea rubbed her forehead. “Liv, give me some credit, OK?”

“How can I when you’re acting just like—”

Thea slammed her mug down, sending coffee over the edge in a hot tsunami. “Don’t. Say. It. I am nothing like our mother, and my situation is completely different from hers.”

“How?” Liv scoffed.

“Because unlike Mom, I’m doing it for my daughters, not myself.” Thea described what happened at the restaurant—how upset the girls were about not going to their grandparents’ house for Thanksgiving, about missing Gavin, hating baseball. All of it.

Well, not all of it. She left out the things Gavin said that sent her heart into overdrive. You and the girls are my home.

Liv was unmoved. “You know the girls are too young to understand any of this.”

“They’re old enough to understand our traditions and to be sad when they change. At least now they don’t have to have a shitty Thanksgiving or Christmas.”

“So they have a shitty Thanksgiving and Christmas next year?”

“Hopefully by next year, they will be used to the situation and it won’t bother them as much.”

Liv started to protest further, so Thea held up her hand. “You weren’t there. You didn’t hear them cry or see their faces.”

“But I can see yours.”

Thea ignored the observation, mostly because she didn’t want to know what it meant. “I made an impulsive decision. I thought you liked that side of me.”

“Sure, when it leads to something fun. This is a disaster.”

“Only if you refuse to support me.”

Liv took another drink of her juice. “What exactly does he plan to do to win you back?”

“I have no idea.”

“You didn’t ask?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“How could it not matter?”

“Because I’ve learned my lesson, Liv.”

“But what if—”

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know! I have a thousand voices in my head telling me what to do. Yours. His. Gran Gran’s. The girls’. I have no idea which voice is mine. All I know is that when he dared me to accept the deal, something snapped in me. So don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you,” Liv said, a hint of apology creeping into her voice. “I’m worried about you.”

Thea wanted to ignore that observation too, but found herself asking, “Why?”

“You disappeared, Thea,” Liv said. “I feel like I just got you back. I can’t stand to see you get lost again.”

Thea pulled her sister in for a tight hug. “I won’t get lost again,” she promised. “It’s only for a month.”

“That’s all it took the last time for him to lure you in.”

“The last time, I was a willing participant.”

“And you’re not now?”

“I agreed to let him move home,” Thea said, pulling away. “I didn’t agree to spend any time with him.”

“Something tells me that’s going to be harder to avoid than you think.”

“Not when he’s sleeping in the guest room.”

Liv made a whiny noise. “Where am I sleeping?”

“Basement.”

“Great. First, he steals my sister. Now he gets to steal my bed?”

Thea walked purposefully to the whiteboard and studied the calendar. Christmas was barely five weeks away.

Five short weeks.

She could do it.

All she had to do was fake it.

* * *

• • •

The guys—Del, Mack, Yan, and Malcolm—were already eating when Gavin walked into the downtown Nashville diner wearing a morning beard and a scowl. Not a good day to ask for an autograph, he conveyed in body language alone as he ignored the too-big smiles from people who recognized him. The place wasn’t exactly along the tourist thoroughfare, but it was still busy enough and country enough to be annoying.

He sank into a chair at the table. Del took one look at his haggard appearance and let out a breath. “Fuck. She said no?”

“Worse. She said yes.”

“How is that worse?”

“She has conditions.”

Mack bit into some egg whites and spoke with his mouth full. “What, like, asthma and diabetes?”

Gavin flipped him off and launched into the recitation of what happened last night. While he talked, Del nodded at a waitress, presumably to let her know their fifth person had finally arrived. Gavin ordered something called the Big Buckle Breakfast because, fuck it, it was the off-season and his wife didn’t trust that he loved her.

Mack grimaced when the waitress walked away. “Dude. That shit’ll kill you and make you fat.”

Gavin lifted up his T-shirt and looked down. Things were flat and tight, just like his trainers and coaches demanded. “I’ll risk it.”

Mack lifted his own shirt and waved at a washboard that put Gavin’s to shame. “Clean livin’.” Mack smirked, returning to his heart-happy omelet. “Try it.”

“Fuck off, ’Roid Rage. You ate an entire pizza by yourself Saturday night.”

Malcolm looked at Del. “Are they always like this?”

Del sighed. “Always.”

Yan looked at Gavin. “What are her conditions?”

Gavin let out a long breath and launched into the list. When he finished, even Mack was sympathetic. “Damn, dude. She really won’t let you say I love you? That’s harsh.”

“How the hell am I supposed to win her back if I’m sleeping in another room and can’t tell her how I feel?”

“Yeah, and if there’s no . . .” Mack made the universal sign for sex—he poked his finger in and out of a circle he made with his other hand.

“You’re looking at this all wrong,” Malcolm said. “This is an opportunity.”

“How?”

“She all but dared you to figure her out, to truly learn her language. If she doesn’t want you to say I love you with those words, you’ll have to learn another way to express it, one that she’ll accept.”

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“We do,” Del said. Then the guys all spoke at once. “Backstory.”

“What the fuck is backstory?”

“Everything, man,” Mack said. “Backstory is everything.”

“It means that whatever happened to your wife before she met you plays a role in who she is today,” Malcolm said. “We are all the sum total of our experiences at any given time, and our reactions to things are shaped by them. Just like in romance novels. Whatever a character went through before the start of the book will eventually determine how they react to things that happen in the book.”

“But we’re talking about my real life here. Not a book.”

“Same principles apply,” Malcolm said. “That’s why fiction resonates with people. It speaks to universal truths.”

Gavin’s food arrived. He devoured a piece of bacon in two bites. Across the table, Mack puffed out his cheeks and made a round gesture over his stomach, so Gavin ate a second piece with a deliberate glare.