Page 91 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

He orders a sparkling water and sets it in front of me without comment.

I look at it for one beat. Then I pick it up and take a sip and keep my eyes on Sarah, who is telling Liam about the resort's night dive excursion that Connor refused to go on because, as she puts it, “he is a CEO and not a fish.”

“In my defense,” Connor says, “I did not pay for the honeymoon to drown.”

“You paid for the snorkeling.”

“Snorkeling is supervised swimming. Scuba requires a certification course I didn’t budget for.”

I laugh. It sounds right. I feel Connor's attention on the side of my face like a question he's choosing not to ask yet.

The word yet does a lot of work.

The valets pull the cars around front and Ethan orders our Uber Black. It's late and the air is still warm. Sarah hugs me first, tight and quick, and says into my ear that we're doing this every month. She's already decided. She says it like I’m not going back to Portland but I don’t correct her.

“Every month sounds perfect,” I say.

She moves on to Liam, delighted again by his height, and Andrew says something that makes her laugh and I'm watching it happen and trying to be present in it, trying to just stand here and be a person at a dinner who had a nice time.

Connor hugs me last.

He smells exactly the same. The same cologne he's worn for years, the one that used to be my whole definition of home. I let myself hold on for three full seconds.

He pulls back. Both hands on my shoulders. Looks at my face like he's checking something specific.

“You good?”

“I'm great,” I say.

He nods.

Not convinced.

The valet is still sorting the sequence—their car first, then our Uber Black behind it. Thirty seconds, maybe less. We're all still standing on the curb when I see Connor pull Ethan aside.

I turn toward Liam and Andrew. Sarah is telling Andrew something about the hotel's rooftop terrace, her hands moving, and I contribute something that makes sense in the conversation and keep my eyes forward and my face easy.

Behind me, Connor's voice drops.

“My sister. Is something going on with her?”

My grip tightens on my clutch.

Ethan's answer comes back level and unhurried. “You would have to ask her about that.”

A pause. Long enough.

Connor again, “I'm asking you.”

“Ask your sister.”

I watch Sarah's hands. I think keep breathing. I think don't turn around. I think Ethan, please and then I stop thinking anything because thinking isn't helping.

Both cars pull up.

Sarah reaches for Connor's hand and pulls him toward the car and he goes—but he looks back first.

At me.