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I laughed humorlessly. “Believe me, I tried not to. But then you…” I trailed off before I said something really bad. “Just, can you come in?” That hung in the air between us. Then I said, “I didn’t get in the car with him.”

He was still pissed. He knew that by going in he was just getting in deeper. After a long moment he surprised me when he opened his car door.

There weren’t really any words to describe what he felt when I unlocked the front door. To John the house was unreal, and kept becoming more unreal as I led him through room after room. What surprised him most was how truly beautiful it was. He thought its size was ostentatious, but other than that it was simple—but so deceptively simple, he knew it was on a whole other level of wealth.

John was quiet when I walked through the living room with the glass wall, facing the lake. He went over to observe the view. We had just been across the water in the park, but here we were a world away. The lights outside showed the rain falling hard. The rectangular pool was lit, and even from afar you could see the surface dancing. The house was never cozy, but this was as close as it got—this feeling of being dry and protected inside.

“I’ll show you the upstairs,” I said softly.

He followed me up the stone staircase to the long hallway that ran the entire length of the second story. He saw the black-and-white family photos arrayed on the white wall.

“Where are you?”

“Um, here’s one.” He came over to where I pointed.

“You and your mom and sister?” he asked, looking closely. Most of the lights in the house were off, and it was hard to see.

“Stepmom,” I corrected quickly. “Come on. My room is down here.”

My entire body relaxed once we were in my bedroom and I closed the door.

“This is your room?” He looked around. I could tell he was surprised it was as spare as the rest of the house. Both of us were trying to ignore the massive bed sitting right there and the fact that we were all alone.

“Yes. Why are you asking like that?”

“It’s just—it feels like a hotel suite. It’s so perfect. Clean, I mean.”

“I know. I’m a little crazy that way. You should see Liv’s room. There are clothes everywhere—on the floor, thrown around.” I realized I sounded fond of Liv.

How does she even have a hallway in her room? He wandered down the hall, feeling free to look in the bathroom and the small den. He paused in the walk-in closet. My shelves contained almost no colors, just perfectly folded cashmere sweaters and T-shirts in black, white, and gray. On another long shelf were about thirty pairs of jeans. Hung up on wood hangers were dresses and skirts arranged according to category and color. And then the shoes. Now I felt self-conscious.

“Did you freak out when you saw my room?” He was thinking I must have thought his house was the shittiest house I’d ever seen.

“No! I love your room. It feels like you. Seriously—I love it.” He didn’t look at me, adjusting to everything he was seeing and how it made him feel. About me. About himself.

“Come here.” I led him to a long window seat where you could look out on the lake. “This is my favorite place in the whole house. This is where I’m usually sitting when I’m on the phone with you.” He sat down, suddenly conscious of all the whiteness of the house and my room, and the dried mud on him.

That I wanted to show him my home and let him deeper into my life meant something to him. But he hated that he suddenly felt lacking in every way—that he didn’t have the money or abilities that matched mine and Angus’s. He stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets, ready to go.

“You want to leave?” I tried to cover the hurt I felt.

“I should be getting back,” he said.

I’ve refused to feel unworthy of her this entire time. I’ve fucking looked Angus in the eye and let him know he wasn’t better than me.

But I could feel it all starting to seep into John’s head. I’d made it worse by bringing him here. It was impossible for him not to feel like he didn’t belong.

“Don’t. You do not get to feel that way.” I moved over to him, reaching out to touch him. He knew what I was talking about. He moved away before I could reach him.

“I’m going to go.”

Dammit. I walked behind him in the hall. I hated what he felt.

“John,” I said. “Just wait.” He kept going. Now he wasn’t even trying to hide that he was pissed. I kept up, right behind him, taking the stairs just as fast.

John somehow made his way to the front door by memory. He started playing with the complicated lock on the stainless-steel door, which slowed him down.

“Listen to me!” I tried to sound authoritative. Then I pulled a low trick. I put my hands on him, under his shirt, on the smooth skin of his back. I knew him; he was too much of a gentleman to jerk away.

“Listen,” I said more quietly. John slowly turned and gave me a look that said, I’ll hear you out but you’ll get nothing back. His hands caught mine when they slid to his chest.

“I’m sorry for the Angus crap, and I’m sorry you would think for one second that I’m embarrassed to be seen with you.” He removed my hands, not wanting to have the conversation.

I grabbed his arm. I needed John to know it wasn’t him. “You are the most beautiful person. And you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. The problem is, I’m not supposed to feel this way about you.” I shocked myself by tearing up. I pushed my fingertips against my eyes, as if that would stop it.