“You know, you can do all this online,” the woman said.

Thea shrugged. “I know. But I wanted to come in.”

She’d missed this. Missed the vibe of a college campus. Missed the creative rebellion of the arts and theater majors, the bleary-eyed straggle of all-night studiers, the sardonic wit of cocky professors. Thea had never felt more like herself than she had when she was in school.

After visiting the administration building, Thea popped into the on-campus bookstore. On a whim, she bought a couple of Vanderbilt T-shirts for the girls.

Shit. The girls. Thea dug out her phone to check the time. She was going to be late picking them up. Unless Gavin did it.

Thea hesitated but sent him a text to see if he’d get the girls from school, because Thea was going to go straight to Alexis’s café. Gavin responded quickly that he would and then asked how things were going on campus. She ignored the question and simply replied that she’d be home by ten.

Thea grabbed a sandwich at an on-campus deli and then returned to her car. The drive to Alexis’s café took forty minutes in the afternoon traffic. She pulled into the row of parking spaces behind Alexis’s building, where a door had been propped open.

Thea poked her head in. “Hello?”

Hearing nothing, she slipped inside and tried again. Still nothing. The kitchen was full of boxes and piles of bubble wrap, with shiny pots and pans hanging from a row of hooks above a new range.

“Liv? You guys here?” Thea dodged boxes as she walked through the kitchen. A swinging door led to what Thea assumed was the café area beyond. She pushed open the door and . . .

“Surprise!”

Thea squeaked and slapped a hand over her heart. Liv and Alexis stood in the center of the café by the one and only table that wasn’t covered with boxes and stacks of dishes waiting to be put away. Instead, it bore a bottle of champagne, three flutes, and a massive card that read “Congratulations.”

“What is this?” Thea laughed.

“I told you we were going to celebrate!” Liv said. “Surprise!”

Alexis grinned. “Liv told me your good news. That’s so awesome. And it’s perfect timing, actually.”

She and Liv shared a glance.

Thea walked in farther. “Perfect timing for . . .”

“Well,” Alexis said, drawing out the word. “I have some super-plain walls that are in desperate need of artwork. I was just thinking that it would be awesome to be able to show some original pieces from a local artist.”

Thea stopped and stared. Liv rolled he eyes. “She means you, Thea.”

“You want me to hang some of my pieces here?”

“Are you willing? I want to regularly showcase local artists, give them a space where they can sell their work.”

Thea almost pinched herself. In the span of one day, she’d been accepted back into art school and been handed a chance to showcase her work. She didn’t believe much in signs, but this felt like one.

Thea surveyed the café. “So what do we do first?”

Liv walked closer and shoved a glass of champagne in her hand. “First, we toast.”

Thea accepted the champagne.

Liv raised her glass. “To new beginnings.”

Thea matched Liv’s pose. “New beginnings.”

But when the champagne touched her tongue, the bubbly and the sentiment left a sour aftertaste.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

“Can we get down to business, please?”

Gavin opened a beer and plopped onto the couch with as much dignity as any grown man could muster while wearing a red feather boa and reindeer antlers. Ava, Amelia, and Jo-Jo had demanded the men play dress-up with them before settling down in the girls’ bedroom with a movie while the men “worked on the wall.” But the choice of The Little Mermaid had sparked a debate back downstairs, and now things had gone off the rails.

“She has to literally change from one species to another in order to be with a man,” Mack said, waving his hands around to finish drying his nails. Ava made him paint them alternating green and red for Christmas. “What kind of message is that for little girls?”

“It’s a movie,” Del growled, defensive because he had been the one who suggested it.

“Del makes an excellent point that we shouldn’t overlook,” Malcolm said calmly. The mini jingle bell ornaments dangling from his beard made a festive sound as he spoke. “We shouldn’t assume that women and girls don’t know the difference between reality and fantasy. We don’t fear that men who read murder mysteries and thrillers are going to have a hard time not becoming serial killers, so why should we assume that a girl won’t know that she doesn’t have to change from a mermaid to human in order to find love just because of a movie?”

“Because that’s the only message girls get sometimes,” Mack argued. “It’s not one movie. It’s, like, every fucking movie.”

Everyone nodded in silent agreement. The Russian lifted a hip and farted.

“True,” Malcolm said. “But we must find a way to produce and enjoy content that celebrates the fierceness of women without, at the same time, belittling a woman’s ability to decipher fact from fiction.”

“Like romance novels,” Gavin grumbled.

Mack covered his heart with his hand. “Our boy is growing up.”

“Our boy is growing angry,” Gavin said. “It’s getting late. We’re running out of time.”

The Russian stood with a look on his face that said he was running out of time too. “Where is restroom?”

The room erupted in a loud chorus of noooo. Mack jumped up and headed for the kitchen. “Don’t let him near your bathroom, Gav Man,” Mack said, opening the fridge like he owned the place. “You’ll never get the smell out. The man grows toxic waste in his colon.”

“I have digestive problem,” the Russian said.

“Use the bathroom in the basement,” Gavin grumbled. “And you, get the fuck out of my fridge.”

Mack emerged with a take-out container. He peeled off the top using the tips of his fingers to avoid smudging the nail polish. “What is this?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I eat it?”

Gavin shrugged. “Yes, whatever. Can we get started, please?”

Each guy had arrived with a bag full of books for him and unceremoniously dumped them out on the floor. Gavin picked up the first one he saw—a dark cover featuring a shirtless man holding a gun. “What the hell is this?”

“Romantic suspense,” Del said.

“Romantic suspense?” he repeated skeptically.

“Yeah, you know.” Mack held up a fist and spoke dramatically to the ceiling. “Is this guy ever going to get laid? Story of your life, dude, amirite?”

Gavin threw the book back on the pile. “I’m being serious,” he grumped. “We made a lot of progress last night, but she got weird this morning when she found out she got into Vanderbilt.”

“Tell us what happened,” Malcolm said.

Gavin summarized the key moments of their date and the morning.

“You’re in the dreaded middle of your story, man,” Del said. “It’s going to feel like one step forward, two steps back for a while, just like in the book. Remember when Irena finally opens up to Benedict about her sister, how they wanted to escape to America?”

Gavin nodded.

“Well, that left her feeling vulnerable and even a little pissed off when he left.”

Gavin covered his ears. “Spoilers! I haven’t read any further than that.”

“The fact that Thea opened up to you a little about her dad is a good sign, but that kind of progress is also scary for her,” Malcolm said. “You made her talk about things that hurt. The G-spot is most tender before it starts to sing.”

“I will pay each of you a million dollars to stop saying G-spot,” Gavin snapped.

“The point is, you chipped away at her walls last night. That’s going to leave her feeling exposed, vulnerable.”

“Yeah, well, so do I,” Gavin admitted quietly.

The room stilled.

“Keep going, man,” Mack said. “This is the good stuff.”

Malcolm leaned back. “Gavin, we spend a lot of time talking about what she’s afraid of, her resistance. What are you afraid of?”

“Losing her.”

“Bullshit,” Del said.

Gavin whipped his gaze to Del’s. “Excuse me?”

“That’s surface-level bullshit,” Del said. “Of course, you’re afraid of losing her. That goes without saying. But if you think all you have to do is win her back to be happy, you’re wrong. You might as well quit now.”

“I don’t—” His mouth froze for a moment. “Can you just stop speaking in riddles and fucking tell me something!”

“What Del is trying to say,” Malcolm said, “is that she can’t be the only one revealing scary things. Have you opened up to her? Really opened up to her?”

“I don’t . . . I d-don’t know.” His armpits began to sweat.

“Then start with opening up to us,” Del said. “What is the one thing you think you’d never, ever be able to do? What scares you more than anything? What don’t you want to talk about?”

The guys stared pointedly.

No. He couldn’t tell them. Not that.

He shook his head.

Malcolm sighed with atypical frustration for the Zen master of book club. “Gavin, we can’t help you if you’re not willing to help yourself.”

“You don’t understand. It’s personal.”

Del grunted and stood. “I can’t waste any more time on you if you’re not going to—”

“She faked it.”

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. He’d said it out loud. He braced for the laughter, for the jokes, the sky to fall.