“I have a Cookie Monster shirt. It says ‘Eat Me,’” he chirps. “Girls love it.”

“Of course they do. Think of black holes as Cookie Monster eating anything that gets close, munching and spitting, some of the bigger crumbs falling out. Some of the matter that’s pulled in is large, but once it hits the event horizon, particles fly everywhere—some in, some out.”

“I like my vision better. Giant Dyson. Black spiral. Maybe a wormhole to another dimension.”

“No. An invisible Cookie Monster with a flash of light when matter approaches.”

He sighs. “He was just up there spouting off facts and pissing me off when he didn’t explain them—like I’m supposed to just get those words he used.” He groans. “I shouldn’t have called you. You’re busy—”

“Where are you now?”

“The library. I’ve got a stack of books in front of me, and frankly, I’m ready to rip them apart with my teeth. Dude. I usually only rip off beer tops with my teeth.”

I bite back a smile at the image of him and Addison disgruntled in the library. “Books are expensive, and it’s not their fault. Take a breath. Wait for me.” Auditorily is not the way Corey learns. He needs to see my face, and I can draw some diagrams . . .

“Would you really come?”

“I can’t have your black holes dream dashed, so yes.”

He yells, “I told you she would, Addison!”

She squeals in the background, and I hear him rustling back to me. “I . . . shit, Ms. Riley . . . thank you, thank you. I swear I won’t drink this weekend just for you, just in case you ever need a kidney,” he says.

After getting off the call with him, I grab my purse, then pull out several twenties and leave them on Aunt Clara’s counter.

Her mouth twitches. “Hate to miss whatever color your hair turns out, but go and save little Corey.”

I run a quick brush through my hair.

“Can I come?” Topher calls out as I head to the exit. “I want to watch you in action, and I really want to ride in Red.”

“Don’t you have to work?”

He grins. “The Daisy Library is closed today after lunch. Let me be your ride-or-die bitch. I don’t know much about black holes, but I can google on the way there. We can stop and grab some cookies and use my sock as a puppet.”

Elation swells. Topher is Elena’s BFF, and him wanting to hang out with me makes me giddy. I smile so big it hurts and nudge my head to the car. “Nobody drives her but me,” I say as we walk out.

He smirks, delight on his face as he runs his hands over the sleek hood. “Uh-huh. I bet you go fifty on the interstate in this fine piece of horsepower.”

“Sixty-five. I’m more of a rebel than you know.”

“Give me the keys. Devon never has to know.”

“You don’t know the password.”

He chortles. “Damn, it takes a password to start this machine?”

I pop the locks, liking the clicking sound it makes. He’s insisted I drive it every day. “Nope, just a song you have to know before you get the keys from the valet—who knows me now.”

“What is it? Come on; tell me.” He slides into the passenger seat. “Devon’s password . . . hmmm . . . is it ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails—no, how about ‘Get Ur Freak On’ by Missy Elliot?”

“You can keep guessing all the way to Vandy, but I hold that man’s secrets to my heart.”

He smiles as I pull out of the parking lot, dodging the potholes. “Do you now? How interesting.”

“We are friends,” I say grimly, repeating the mantra in my head. If I keep telling myself over and over, it might just become the truth—on my side. It’s already truth for him.

He throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, Giselle, that man has been checking you out since the night he met you at the community center for Romeo and Juliet. He didn’t take his eyes off you at the wedding. Looked to me like a man conflicted.”

I pause, then tell him how Devon showed up at my apartment during the fire, about how I ended up sleeping in his bed after my nightmare, and then about last night at the barn. I break down my gaze levels and describe the best kiss of all time.

He fiddles with the music, looking for a station.

“He had a date at the reception,” I say.

“Want to know a secret?”

“If you truly have one, I can’t believe you haven’t told me already,” I muse, sending him a wry grin.

He taps his fingers on his white skinny jeans, his Converse shifting around as he turns to me. “I didn’t really put it together until you said how adamant he is about staying friends, but . . .” He stops, tapping his chin.

“What?” I groan after he’s let ten seconds pass.

“When we were getting in our cars to head to the reception, I heard him talking to Lawrence about when this girl Lawrence knew would be showing up, because she was late.”

“Lawrence knew her? Like he set them up?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. He arranges dates all the time for some of the guys. Public appearances, galas, that sort of thing.”

“Who told you that?”

“Quinn.”

“Oh.” Quinn is Jack’s foster brother and a reliable source. He manages some of the players’ apartments and cars.

“Anyway, from my perspective, he wasn’t into her,” Topher adds, nodding his head, as if an idea is taking root. “When you weren’t looking, he was checking you out like you were a shiny gold championship ring. I bet he called in a date to put some distance between you and him.”

I frown, easing onto the interstate, being careful as an eighteen-wheeler roars past us. I haven’t analyzed why he showed up with a girl no one knew, who didn’t have a relationship with Jack and Elena, but then, it’s not unusual to bring a plus-one to a wedding—although technically it was a very small affair. And he hasn’t mentioned a girl he’s been seeing, but then maybe he wouldn’t . . .

Ugh. I don’t like this train of thought and tell Topher as much.

He gets quiet for a few moments, then: “Giselle, how are you? No sugarcoating.”

My hands clench the wheel, and I swallow down the tightness in my throat. “Preston may have broken my heart, but I fucked over my sister. I can barely stand myself.” There it is. The reason why this whole year has sucked.

Guilt hammers at me as I recall the day it happened. I’d been in town only a few weeks when Preston asked me to meet him at his law office to talk about Elena. He was handsome and oh-so sad with his “I love her, but your sister is ignoring me” routine.

One minute he was behind his desk dabbing at his tears; the next he was kissing me right as she walked in. In retrospect, I think he heard her in the office and wanted to shock her or screw with her or who knows—only Elena never reacts like a normal person. Instead of blowing up, she told us to enjoy each other, then pretended like it never happened. And like a chump, I let Preston weasel into my life.

Topher sighs. “I know what it’s like to disappoint those who love you—heck, I’m a gay man in a small town, and my parents won’t even speak to me. She forgave you, yet you’re punishing yourself. You made a mistake. You owned it. You deserve to be happy.”