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Joy’s gasp drags me to a halt, and I pull away from her with a frown. But her gaze is focused in front of us. The door to my apartment, to be exact. Or who’s sitting in front of it.

“Took you lot long enough,” Doug says, pushing to his feet with a wince. “I’ve been here fucking ages.”

We all freeze, staring at him like he’s a ghost. It’s bizarre seeing him in person. He’s sent the odd photo, but it’s not the same. Dressed in a pale gray t-shirt and dark denim jeans, he seems bulkier. His beard is thicker, and his hair a little shorter, but it suits him. I tear my eyes away from him to glance at the others, wondering if they’re struggling with the same crisis as me.

I want to cross the short distance between us and kiss the fuck out of him, but it’s been months since I’ve seen him. Nine weeks and six days to be precise. Not that anyone’s counting.

“Doug?” Joy chokes out.

He grins, patting his broad chest. “Last time I checked.”

“You’re here.”

Doug’s smile falters, his eyes flitting to the two large bags at his feet. “I mean, I—”

“Are you here to stay?” Aldo asks.

Doug’s lips press together and the silence that fills the corridor is thick enough to drown in.

“Let’s take this inside, yeah?” I say, digging my key from my pocket and stepping forward.

Doug steps to the side and it’s a feat of strength not to pull him against me and breathe him in.

Pushing open the door, I gesture for Doug to go in first, grabbing one of his bags for him. My apartment is completely packed up. The only things I’ve left out are enough plates and cutlery for the food we plan on ordering tonight, my essential toiletries, and the bedding on the bed. I swallow as Doug takes in the boxes and bare walls.

We decided not to tell him about San Francisco. We all agreed that if he knew we were making plans, it might stop him from wanting to come back. Of course, we knew it wasn’t a secret we could keep forever, but we wanted to wait for the right time.

“You’re leaving,” he says, letting his bag fall from his shoulder.

“Why are you here?” Joy asks, her arms folded across her stomach.

I busy myself with opening the bottle of wine I left out and finding an extra glass from the packed box on the floor to stop myself from going to her.

“Happy graduation?” Doug answers, his voice flat.

Aldo perches on the arm of my sofa, rubbing a hand over his face. “Doug, I’m fucking thrilled that you’re back. I just . . . This is just . . .”

“What?” Doug presses. “I thought it would be a nice surprise. Obviously, I made the wrong call.”

“It’s not that,” Joy says.

“What is it, then?”

I huff from where I’m pouring the wine into four glasses. “What it is, is we haven’t seen you for almost ten weeks, you fucking tool. I don’t want to speak for all of us, but I know I really want to hug you and kiss you, but it’s been a long damn time. And like Aldo asked, are you back? Or is this a stopover? Can I let myself get excited that you’re here or are you going to run out on us again?”

“Fucking hell.” Doug exhales and slumps down in my armchair. “It’s not a stopover. I’m back to talk to you all. To see where things stand, I guess. I didn’t want to get in the way of finals and everything, so I held off. It was stupid of me to think that you wouldn’t make plans without me. It’s not like you could have stayed on campus for the summer.”

“So, you’re back, then?” Aldo asks.

A crease forms between Doug’s eyebrows as he looks at us. “That depends on you lot. If you all still want to try and make this work, then yes. If you don’t then—”

“What if you leave again?” Joy asks. “What if it gets hard and you just disappear?”

Doug’s face falls, but then he sits forward, his hands clasped as he looks at each of us in turn. It’s the most serious I’ve ever seen him.

“My entire life, I never thought I was worthy of love,” he says carefully. “Blame it on my fucked-up family or just who I am as a person—the choices I’ve made—but it’s the truth. Lane called me out on it the day I found out my nan died. He told me that I only let people close so they can hurt me.”

My heart squeezes at the sound of my name, pained by the awful truth of his words.

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