Reid laughs. ‘Sheldon the social worker said thrilled shitless?’

I shrug and laugh too. ‘Sheldon’s pretty laid back.’

He shakes his head. ‘I’m just trying to imagine Dori ever saying that to a client.’ One corner of his mouth turns up. ‘Nope. Nothing doing.’

Not for the first time, I wonder about this girl who’s so unexpectedly significant to Reid. He pulls his phone from his front pocket and checks it for the third time in the past half-hour. Whatever he’s looking for, it isn’t there.

‘While you’ve got that out, let’s go hook it up to my computer so we can print out the photos you took.’ I get up and he follows me down the hallway to my bedroom.

As I’m booting my laptop, he examines my room. There’s not a lot to it, frankly. I’m a minimalist everywhere I go. I stripped my apartment in LA of glass tables and white upholstery before I moved, but I don’t do cosy – not naturally, which worries me where River is concerned. What if cosy is required for a child his age? I’ve never painted walls anything other than some neutral tone. There were no photos out, anywhere in the apartment. My living-room furniture has never encouraged a spontaneous nap. I’ve never had a pet, not even fish. I kill plants.

‘You’re different here,’ Reid says.

I glance back at him as he’s scooting on to my bed, one long leg off the side, foot on the floor, the other angling so the sole of his boot doesn’t soil my white quilt. Reclining against the mound of pillows, he folds his hands behind his head, forearms flexed below the haphazardly rolled-up sleeves of his light blue button-down. His head tips to the side as he inspects the room, and me, and I turn back to the computer to keep from squirming.

I know what he means, I think – I’m just not sure whether I care for his spontaneous appraisal. I like being looked at when I know I’ve taken pains to look hot. Such is not the case at the moment. Ignoring both my blow-dryer and flat-iron, I haven’t bothered to tame my naturally messy waves into the sleek, blonde waterfall mane I’m famous for. I’m wearing a long-sleeved thermal T-shirt in a plain heather grey over worn boot-cut jeans and my favourite leather-tooled Ariat boots. Nothing about me says LA right now – or Hollywood.

‘What do you mean?’ I ask, feigning unconcern as I pull up the photo folder labelled Life Book.

He considers before he speaks – which is either thoughtful or shrewd. ‘It’s more than just how you’re dressed, or the lack of make-up – though that’s noteworthy. Your body language and expressions are – I don’t know – more relaxed? And your accent is more prominent. You’re less …’

I turn around and fix him with a sardonic look. ‘Less stylish? Less sophisticated?’

‘I was going to say – less counterfeit. I know what you think of your mother, and how much you don’t want to be like her. But you aren’t like her. You were never like her. Your stepmother? She’s the one you sound like, by the way. I know that now that I’ve met her. Though your time in LA has probably weakened your accent permanently.’ He looks at me through dark, thick lashes some blonds would commit homicide for. ‘Which I’ve always believed to be a regrettable loss.’

‘What do you mean, counterfeit?’

His brows draw together. ‘You wear the LA-girl part well. But it’s a role, isn’t it? You were like this when I went by your apartment a few weeks ago too. This is the real Brooke Cameron.’

It takes everything I’ve got not to fall out of my chair. ‘Wow. When did you get to be so psychoanalytical? Is your girl responsible for this new, uncharacteristic awareness?’

He smiles. ‘Probably.’

‘Interesting. I think I need to meet her.’

‘You will, no doubt.’

I angle my head, struck by the thing I’ve just figured out. He’s in love with her. ‘You’re really serious about her.’

He nods, but doesn’t look happy. Hmm.

‘You did tell her about all this –’ I swirl a finger between us. ‘River, the adoption, et cetera … Right?’

He nods again, lips compressed. ‘She’s had to deal with some rough shit lately. It’s messed up her ability to trust.’

‘I’m sure this didn’t help any – or you keeping it from her.’

His mouth flattens and he shakes his head once. ‘Uh, no.’

‘So why’d you do it, Reid?’

‘Why did I keep it from her?’

‘No. That’s yours to puzzle out. I want to know why you’re doing this. Why you want to adopt River.’

He flicks a blade of grass from his boot – slick, trendy and black – not cowboy boots, like mine, not work boots, like something Graham might wear. Perfect LA boy. But in Austin – straight-up hipster. Not that he’d care.

‘I think it’s a by-product of who I’ve become since I’ve known Dori. Since I was sentenced to work on that house. It’s like … I see issues I didn’t see before, and my connection to them. My obligation to do something, where I can.’ He looks me in the eye. ‘Where River is concerned, it’s a pretty hardcore responsibility.’

‘I’ve only ever felt that sort of responsibility where River is concerned,’ I admit. ‘I doubt I’ll ever have any weighty sense of social commitment, but I feel linked to River, even if I’ve never seen him.’

Shrugging, he says, ‘He’s part of you.’

I bring the laptop to the bed and sit, handing it to him. ‘He’s part of you too.’

He hooks up his phone and brings up the photos I asked for – of himself, his parents’ house and the room they’ve set aside for River.

‘Wasn’t this your bedroom?’ I recognize the placement of the windows and the dark sliding closet doors. It’s been five years, but I remember Reid’s bedroom better than which house or condo Mom and I were living in at the time.

‘I moved to my grandmother’s suite a couple of months after …’

‘After we broke up. You can say it. I won’t shatter, you know.’ We sit shoulder to shoulder on my bed, which seems as unbelievable as the subject we’re calmly discussing. ‘I know this might be difficult to hear, Reid, but I’m kind of over you.’

He smirks. ‘Yeah … when you went all Operation Graham last spring and deployed me to seduce Emma – I kinda figured that you were well over me.’

Graham again. I close my eyes and press my fingers to my chest. Damn.

‘Still upsets you, huh? I guess you really did love him. God, there’s no fucking way I’m ever taking Dori around that guy. Because seriously.’ His words are tongue-in-cheek, but the underlying tone is anything but.

‘Last spring, I was so sure I could deal with all-or-nothing,’ I say. ‘When I lost him, I knew that wasn’t true, but it was too late. In that moment, I’d have given anything to take it all back. Our friendship saved me – he saved me. No matter what I did or who I pretended to be, he was there for me. I don’t know who I’d be if it hadn’t been for him.’

Copying the photos over to my computer so we can print them out, Reid says, ‘I’m sorry I did that to you, Brooke.’

I shake my head. ‘It wasn’t you. I’ve realized some things in the past few days. Like how I felt when my father left – when he stopped paying any attention to me. I was forever looking for something, or someone, to fill that void.’ I send Reid’s photos to the printer in Glenn’s home office, shut my laptop and slide it off my lap. ‘There are empty places in all of us, and some of them will never be filled. You couldn’t fill the loss of my father, and I blamed that on you. Graham couldn’t fill it, and I thought it was because I needed more from him than friendship. But that was never true.’

He turns towards me. ‘Dori and I were friends first, I guess. But I don’t think I could ever be just friends with Dori, even though that part of what we are is essential. I’ve wanted her almost from the beginning, and being with her only makes me want her more. It would kill me to be around her and never touch her. Maybe you’d reached that point with Graham.’

I shake my head. ‘See, that’s the stupid part. I hadn’t. I convinced myself of that, but it was a lie. You and Dori – you’ve begun a relationship. Friendship only would be a step back that you don’t want to make. But Graham never felt that way about me. Never. We were best friends for four years, Reid.’ Tears spill down my face. ‘I threw away the closest relationship of my entire life – aside from Kathryn – on a gamble to get something he’d made it very clear he never wanted.’

Reid slides his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. I haven’t cried about Graham in months. Instead, I’ve made myself endure that deep burn in my chest – the one that reminds me what I did – without giving myself the release of tears.

‘I called Graham about the adoption.’ Reid starts and looks down at me, surprised. I take a shuddering breath. ‘I knew River’s caseworker was going to call him, and I was afraid of what he might say to her. He told me I couldn’t use River to fill my need for affection.’

Pulling away, I grab a tissue and look back at Reid, whose shirt is wet with my tears. ‘Reid, River lost the only parents he’s ever known. And he’s understandably attached to Wendy, which will be another loss. If we do this, we can’t back out.’ I take his hand and stare into his eyes. ‘Please don’t do this if you can’t be there for him. If you’re going to start a new family some day and leave him behind. He doesn’t need any more hollow places.’

Staring down at our hands, he says, ‘I’ve thought for years that my father wasn’t there for me, but he was. He was present – even if he didn’t get me at all most of the time. Even if he didn’t pay as much attention as he should have.’ Returning his gaze to mine, he says, ‘I’ll be present, Brooke. I don’t want to make promises I can’t live up to, but I’ll try my best to be more than present. Just promise me that if I fuck up, you’ll call me on it. And you’ll give me the chance to make it right.’

I nod. ‘Okay.’

Reid twitches his hair back and opens a palm. ‘So. Does every girl I know have to turn insightful all at once? I mean hell – I know I’m shallow, but Jesus. You’d think somebody would be content to remain superficial, just to keep me company.’

The weight leaves the conversation, and I’ve unburdened myself – to Reid – without being demeaned for it. His wisecrack allows me to swim back to a place where my feet can touch the bottom.

‘Like John?’

‘Oh, right,’ he laughs. ‘I forgot about John. Dude, I’m so covered.’

REID

When Dori didn’t answer texts or calls yesterday, I didn’t freak out. She had classes all day, including that statistics exam she was worried about. It was her birthday, though, and I didn’t get to talk to her. I told myself that her friends probably took her out to celebrate.