“River?”

I come back and focus.

“I’ve got a great idea,” I say. “You’re going to write her a note. Say everything I tell you to.”

* * *

I push the past aside and plop down next to Donovan. “Yo, my man. How’s it going?”

He looks up briefly then goes back to typing on his laptop. “Just finalizing the DJ for the party, the usual.” He runs a hand through his light brown hair. It’s cut in a short style, trimmed over the ears, shaved in the back so it doesn’t touch his collar.

“Nice. I’ve got catering covered with The Truth Is Out There. Marilyn is bringing a taco bar.” She’s the owner and we use her all the time. “I double-checked with her on Sunday.”

He pauses and looks up again. “Sorry about your game.”

“I’m considering coming back for my fifth year for another go.” A harsh laugh comes from me. “Or I won’t come back after Christmas and try my luck in the draft. Who knows?”

“Ah, okay, I see,” he muses, a quizzical expression on his face. He’s a guy who always has a plan, and I baffle him.

Okay, let’s get real—I baffle most people.

“I got my acceptance into Harvard,” he adds.

I slap him on the back. “Congrats. That’s awesome, man. Proud of you.”

He murmurs a confirmation, his concentration back on what’s on the screen.

Has he remembered it’s her birthday?

I chew on my lip to stop myself from telling him. She told me not to, but—

Taking his glasses off, he rubs his eyes as he stands and stretches. He rolls his neck and rubs the muscles there.

“Long day?” I ask as I watch him, my eyes snagging on the pink lip stain on his throat. Tension flares inside me. That isn’t Anastasia’s color. Her lips are always deep red.

“Yeah. Long weekend.”

I flick my finger at him as I fake nonchalance. “You’ve got lipstick on your throat. Harper’s.” It’s not a question. “I saw her leave.”

He heaves out a long sigh. “Um, yeah. She, ah, came over when she got her acceptance to Harvard. We both got our emails today. We’re pretty excited.” He walks over to a mirror on the wall and rubs at his neck. A sheepish expression crosses his face. “She went a little nuts and kissed me.”

A little?

“Uh-huh.” I lean back in the recliner, propping my arms behind my head. I lift a brow, still pretending I don’t care, just mildly interested. “Something you’re not telling me?”

A furrow forms on his forehead as he looks down at his feet. “Maybe. I don’t know.” A long breath comes from his chest. “Shit. I’m…” He stops and scrubs his face.

Here it comes…

I straighten up and lean in, putting my elbows on my knees. It’s my easy face, the Let it all out look. “It’s been a while since we had a chat. Tell me what’s bothering you. I’m a vault. Brother’s honor.” Using two fingers, I tap my heart twice, our secret Kappa signal.

He taps his heart back. “Kappa forever,” he murmurs.

“Let it out, brother.”

He sighs. Wearing khakis and a polo shirt, he crosses his arms, a frown on his face. “It’s Ana. She’s distant, not replying to texts. She should have heard from Harvard by now and hasn’t, which makes me wonder if she didn’t get in.”

Oh. That might explain her unhappiness last week when I saw her in the student center.

“And this is a big deal? There are other schools nearby, yeah?”

“Not according to my family.” He winces. “Look, my grandfather is a senator. My dad is on the city council for Atlanta and, well, um, he had her family looked into.”

My eyes flare. “Do they always investigate your girlfriends?”

“If they don’t know them.” He starts pacing around the room, his head tilted down. “Ana…she grew up weird. Her dad used to be a professor at Columbia, which is great, but he quit to travel the world with her mom. This last year, in Greece, he vandalized a building at a political protest, some graffiti stuff. He got arrested and spent a month in jail. Her mom was charged with shoplifting once in the States, nothing serious, but they’re like, hippie liberals.”

“Hmmm,” I say.

He exhales, scowling. “They’re not even married. Ana says they don’t believe in getting married just to make it legal, but—get this: at one point, Ana’s mom had another guy she was with. They were, like, all together for a few months. I’m sure there are other things going on, and trust me, my parents will dig it up.”

“Like a throuple?” My lips quirk.

“Yeah. And don’t say I’m uptight. People can have any kind of consensual relationship they want, but it’s not normal. What if all that comes out, you know, if we get married?” He blows out a breath. “She doesn’t know we’ve had her looked into. Vault.” He taps his heart, and I do the same.

“Of course.”

“Right. You aren’t close with her. It’s just we have a lot of political status in Georgia, and my family doesn’t want to jeopardize their reputation.”

“Her parents don’t define her. She’s her own person.”

He nods, his jaw working. “I know, I know, but…”

My eyes narrow. “Your parents want Harper—or someone like her. For status.” Harper’s family owns half of Atlanta, most of it in commercial real estate.

He lifts his hands. “You nailed it. Advice?”

“Do you want a political career?” I ask, trying to hammer out a solution in my head.

“No, but my dad might make a run for governor soon. He has a strong, conservative base. You know how they dig into your family once you run for office. Every skeleton gets plastered all over. Even if it’s not true, the media twists it up and makes it work for them.”

Ah.

Well.

He isn’t wrong.

I take a deep breath. Be objective, don’t let emotion get in the way, don’t steer him in the wrong direction because of ulterior motives.

I shove the image of Anastasia in the library far, far away.

“You’ve been with Anastasia for a year. She has your pin. You are in love with her, right?” I tense as I wait for his reply. It’s a cheesy question for dudes, but…

He nods.

“Are you sure?”

I need to know, Donovan.

“Yes,” he says. “We enjoy the same things. We both want to work with needy people. With my money, we can open our own firm someday. We have fun.”

Vague. I need concrete shit, like, I dig how she doesn’t care what people think, the way she arches her dark eyebrows when she’s surprised, the way she yells Boo-yah! when she wins at poker, or the way she gasps for air when Benji twirls her around in the kitchen.

I stare down at my hands.

Oh, I heard their fun from his room last year. After several nights of hearing him call her name out during sex or whatever, I asked for a different floor and found someone who’d switch rooms with me. Then, I quit sleeping here altogether after seeing them together at the house, the soft look on her face when she gazed at him.