It was a video call this time because some truths deserve a front-row seat. Ryan answered the phone, looking like he hadn’t shaved or slept well. His hoodie was wrinkled and his voice came out rough.

“Sloane, hey…”

I was standing on the balcony, wearing my silk pajamas, barefoot against the warm stone tiles. I had a chilled glass of champagne on the side  table next to me, and I was ready to put my heartache on hold.

And to teach Ryan a lesson, of course.

I didn’t smile.

I just tilted the phone slightly. “You’re back home?” he asked, hope sparking his eyes. “I’m home,” I said simply.

“But it’s funny, isn’t it?”

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