Page 66 of Head Over Heels

He gets off the phone, and turns a look on me that—well, it stops me cold. It’s so shattered.

“Shit. That was Emily. Oh,shit.” He paces.

“What?”

Turned away from me, staring at the far wall, he says, “It’s Thea’s birthday weekend. I’d actually forgotten. I can’t believe I forgot. She asked if she could see Katie, if she could take Katie overnight…” He puts both his hands on the wall. “Fuck. You should have heard her. You’ve met her, she’s this dour Scandinavian—and here she is,crying,telling me she’ll take Katie to the zoo, to the aquarium, out for ice cream, anything Katie wants. Begging. She said—”

He closes his eyes.

“She said, ‘I just want to see my little girl.’ ”

My heart squeezes painfully. “Oh,shit.”

I cross the room to him, put my hand in the middle of his back. The heat soaks into my palm. I place the other hand beside it, slide them around his sides until I’m hugging him, my front to his back. He doesn’t turn to hug me back, but slowly, his breathing eases and his body relaxes, and that makes me feel like the champion of the world.

“I have to bring her.”

I nod against his back.

“But she’s going to be so upset about the camping.”

“No, she’ll be fine. Here’s what you do. You present it to Katie like it’s the most exciting news in the world. ‘Grandma wants you to come have a sleepover at her house! She wants to take you to the zoo! And the aquarium! Do you want to go?’ ”

His face brightens. He nods. “Okay. Yeah. She’ll totally want to.”

“You don’t even mention the camping. She’s young enough that she might not even realize that one activity is happening in place of the other. But if she brings it up, you say, ‘We can go camping next weekend!’ ”

“But you won’t be here.”

Right. Because I’ll be gone.

I’ve been trying not to think about that too much. Because what started out originally as the perfect end point to our extracurriculars is approachingwaytoo fast.

Meanwhile, I should be thrilled, because nowIdon’t have to go camping.

I release Chase and start removing my clothes from the backpack where he’s stuffed them.

“What are you doing?”

“Unpacking?”

“Why?”

“Because we’re not going camping.”

He crosses his arms. “I didn’t say that. I said I’d go again with Katie next weekend.”

I stare at him.

“Liv, you can’t bail on me now. We’re almost completely packed. Half the group gear is in your pack. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

“Totorturingme.”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “You boughtcandlesanddishes.Andplacemats.You turned my guest room into—a work of art.”

I can tell he doesn’t mean that as a compliment, which, sadly, makes me smile.

“And anyway, it’s not just to torture you. It’s to hang out with you. Hanging out around the campfire isn’t that different from watching movies together.”

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