A big bump. One that’s taking us forever to clear, but we’ll clear it.

I know we will.

“What about CJ?” Beth asks.

“We’re friends. That’s what I wanted.” I tap my phone with the back of my hand, then wave her on. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m a horrible person. I deserve it.”

“Why would I tell you you’re a horrible person?” she questions.

“Because I cheated on Richard.”

“But,” her brow furrows. “You thought you were broken up, right? I mean, you really thought that.”

I nod, grabbing the balled up napkin Beth used as a weapon and twisting it between my hands like I’m wringing out a towel. “I should’ve been absolutely sure though,” I declare, swallowing down the sick creeping up the back of my throat. “I should’ve doubled checked. Triple checked. Why didn’t I?”

Beth’s face softens. She shakes her head. “You were sure, Riley,” she tells me. “In your heart, you were sure. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why do I still feel so terrible every time I look at him?”

“Who?”

“Richard.” I watch her lips press together, then lower my eyes to the napkin I’m now tearing into pieces. “He doesn’t know anything. Not even about this new friendship I have,” I confess. “I didn’t tell anybody what happened that weekend until just now, and really, the only reason why I’m telling you is because I thought maybe if I told someone I’d stop thinking about it so much. I need to stop thinking about it.”

I need to forget. Why can’t I forget?

“You’re thinking about it a lot?” she asks, drawing my gaze up again.

“Constantly.”

“Constantly? Even,” her eyes go round, “you know . . .”

I shake my head. “We haven’t really done much of that lately,” I admit. “Not since before Richard got fired. Things are just . . . off. I don’t know. But other times? Yes. I’m thinking about it.” My shoulders slouch. I sink lower onto my stool. “I try not to. I do, but they’re just so different. Everything is different. Even their hands.” I look down at my own, opening and closing them around the napkin. “I can’t get over how different their hands are,” I murmur.

Rough versus rougher. Richard has hands like he works outside but CJ has hands like he lives outside and has his entire life, built shelter for himself and kills what he eats. His fingers are longer and thicker and his palms are wider. But even if they weren’t, he still touches differently.

I can’t get over that most of all.

“Well,” Beth begins. “I’m sure that’s normal.”

I snap my head up. “Fantasizing about a man who isn’t your boyfriend is normal? For who?”

“I just mean having him on your mind still,” she immediately clears up. “It just happened. I think as time goes on, you’ll think about CJ less and less.” She pauses, shrugging. “If that’s what you want.”

Our gazes lock, and I think she hears what I’m not saying and reads my worry.

I know I hear it—the words circling in my head and stabbing at my heart.

Is it what I want?

“Maybe you feel terrible because you made the wrong choice,” she suggests delicately.

I shake my head and return to shredding the napkin.

No. I made the right choice. I know I did.

Didn’t I?

Beth places her hand on top of one of mine. I blink up at her. “You’re not a horrible person, Riley.” Her voice is warm and sweet and full of honesty. Nothing else. “I think anyone would’ve done what you did knowing what you knew to be true. Really. I believe that.”

“What about me wanting to be friends with CJ?” I ask. “Do you think I’m horrible for wanting that? For wanting something with him?”

She smiles softly. “No,” she answers, giving my hand a squeeze. “I don’t. CJ is a great guy. Really great. It’s pretty impossible not to like him and want to be his friend.”

“Unless you’re Reed and find out your friend had sex with your sister.”

Beth pulls in a sharp breath through her nose, blinking with wide eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think he should find out about this,” she suggests, pulling her hand away. “Maybe not ever. I don’t know how Reed would take that.”

“Right? No way. I’m not telling him. And I made CJ swear he won’t say anything.”

“What about Richard? Are you two—”

My eyes double in size. “I’m not telling him either! Are you nuts?”

“That’s not what I was going to ask,” she argues, scooping up the pieces of shredded napkin off the bar and disposing of them into the receptacle she’s next to. “You already told me you weren’t telling him, and I get that too.”

“Oh.” I bite my lip, handing over the remaining bits of napkin I’m clutching when she holds her hand out. “You do? Really?”

“Really.”

I release a slow breath while Beth tosses out my mess.

“I just don’t want to hurt Richard, you know?” I say. “I never meant for it to happen.”

“I know. That’s why I get it.” Beth motions at a guy at the end of the bar who calls out for a refill, signaling for him to hold on. Then she looks at me. Her eyes are tender. “I just want to make sure you’re happy with Richard. That this is really what you want.”