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“I like it,” he says. He coughs, looks sheepish suddenly. “I mean…you look nice.”

My cheeks heat like a preteen on her first date.

He looks past me. “Where’s Joel?” His brows pull together in consternation.

I exhale heavily. “He stormed out of the room a while ago. I honestly have no idea where he went.”

Josh’s nostrils flare and his mouth opens, but then—his jaw grinding with the effort—he stops himself from saying whatever he was about to and gestures toward the elevator. We walk side by side, the soft fabric of my dress swishing against his shorts. He holds the elevator door for me and pushes the buttons inside.

“So what happens when you get back to LA?” he asks.

My gaze flickers to his, uncertain if he means in general or with his brother specifically. “I’m only there through the weekend. And then I’m on to New York to pack up and leave for my apology interviews before I complete the tour.”

“I don’t know why you’re going along with that,” he says.

“I’m okay with people believing what they want,” I reply. “As long as it isn’t the truth.”

Telling the world I get panic attacks is like inviting them to research my past, beyond all the half-truths I’ve told. They’d dig and dig until they discovered where it all began—my mother’s affair, my father’s death. It was hard enough to live through once. I don’t need to relive it in every interview I give for the rest of my life.

We reach the bar just as the sun sinks behind the horizon. The crowd is already starting to disperse.

Beth, Jim and Six are all sitting together looking a little miserable, but Beth lights up as Josh pulls a chair out for me.

“Don’t you look lovely,” she says, so earnestly and with so much affection it leaves me feeling close to tears.

I smile at her, hiding the lump in my throat. Beth is so much better to me than any member of my family is, and I’m desperately sad it’s about to come to an end.

“Thank you,” I manage to say. It’s such a nice moment, and I get the feeling that Six—leaning back in his chair, smirking the way he does when he’s drunk or about to be an asshole—is about to ruin it.

“You look like a preschool teacher,” he says.

Josh, behind me, stiffens. “Watch your fucking mouth,” he says, pressing me into the seat with his hand on my shoulder, his eyes never leaving Six’s face.

“What?” Six asks with a smirk. “It wasn’t an insult. I like preschool teachers just fine.”

Josh remains behind my chair. “Get up,” he tells Six.

“Josh,” his mother says gently. “Just take a seat, honey. He’s had too much to drink and—”

Six’s chair scrapes the cement as he pushes backward. “I’m going out,” he announces, looking at me. “You coming?” It’s more a statement than a question. He assumes I’m coming, and he’s set this up so no one can win. If I leave with him, Beth will be upset. If I stay, she’ll worry that we’re fighting. I can’t believe he’s doing this to me or her.

“It’s our last night here,” I reply, remaining in my seat. “I think we should stay.”

His mouth presses flat. “Fine. Have fun.” And then he’s gone. Beth’s eyes close and her shoulders sag.

Josh exhales. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

She waves him off. “I just wish the two of you got along. The day will come when you only have each other.”

She chokes on those last words and Jim takes her hand. “It’s been a stressful few days,” he says. “Let’s just head to the room.”

“No,” Beth argues, swallowing, “Drew was right. It’s our last night.”

But she looks sad and exhausted and it’s clear she’s pushed herself too hard. “We have a very long day of travel together tomorrow,” I tell her. “Don’t stay on my account. I doubt I’ll be up that long myself.”

Beth allows herself to be led upstairs, and then it’s only me and Josh. He once said I was the glue holding them together, but it hardly feels that way. If I’d just left when Sloane did, maybe the four of them would be sitting at this table still. Josh sinks into the seat across from mine and kicks my foot.

“None of this is your fault,” he says quietly.