I shake my head and laugh. “Don’t bother. She’s too smart for you, Stayner.”

With a squeal, Mia drops the carrot and runs to dive into my arms in a hug. “Livie! Mom said you were here. Did you see X moving?”

I chuckle. I guess Mia has moved on from the loving nickname “Baby Alien X” to just “X.” It works. “No, but I saw Dan poking your mom’s belly last night,” I say with a wink.

She makes a face. “I hope he’s not going to be weird when X is born.” The topic quickly changes. “Are you staying for a while?” Her expression is hopeful.

“I don’t know, Mia.” And it’s the truth. I just don’t know anything anymore.

“What do you think it is?”

Dr. Stayner slurps at the extra-large latte as we sit side by side in lounge chairs on the back deck, watching the early morning joggers pass by. All that coffee can’t be good for him. “I can’t begin to hazard a guess on that, Livie. He clearly has some issues to sort out. It would seem that he uses physical connections with women as a way of coping. It would seem that his mother’s death is too difficult for him to talk about. It would seem that he does care greatly for you.” Dr. Stayner sits back in his chair. “And if he grew up with an abusive father, then it is quite possible that he still feels as if he has little control over his life. Maybe he does. But I can tell you that you’ll never get an answer that makes sense to you about why it all happened to him. And until he talks about it, it’s difficult to help him. And that is why, my dear Livie Girl . . .” I roll my eyes but then smile. For some reason he took a liking to that nickname. “You need to untangle yourself from his mess until you can straighten out yours. Don’t forget, your sister and Trent needed the same. It was five months before they reconnected. These things often take time.”

I nod slowly. Five months. Where will Ashton be in five months? How many women will he “forget” with in by then? And can I handle being at Princeton while he works things out? If he’s even trying to work things out. My stomach is starting to churn again.

“Livie . . .”

“Sorry.”

“I know it’s hard, but you need to focus on yourself for a little while. Get this hang-up out of your head that you”—he lifts his fingers in air quotes—“‘lied’ to your father.”

“But . . .” I avert my gaze to my freshly painted toes, care of Storm. “I know what he wanted for me and I’m going against it. How in the world would that make him proud of me?”

Dr. Stayner pats my shoulder. “I don’t guarantee anything, Livie. Ever. But I will guarantee that your parents would be proud of you and your sister. Beyond proud. You are both simply . . . remarkable.”

Remarkable.

“Even though I finally cracked?” I smile sadly, repeating Kacey’s words.

He starts chuckling. “You didn’t, Livie. I’d like to say that you finally came to a crossroad and just needed some guidance. You’re a smart cookie who seems to figure things out. That’s all you need sometimes—a little bit of guidance. Not like your sister. Now, she cracked.” He turns to mouth “wow,” and I can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes me.

“I think you are going to be just fine with time. Now is the fun part.”

I raise my brow in question.

“Figuring out who you want to be.”

I’m used to Dr. Stayner in small doses—one hour per week on the phone, max. So when he leaves after spending several days with me, my brain temporarily shuts down like a machine that’s overheated. We spent most of that time out on the back deck, discussing all the options I had before me for my education, for my future career aspirations, and for my social life. He never shared his opinions. He said he didn’t want to skew my own selection process. The only thing he insisted on is that I embrace ambiguity for a while, that I don’t dive into a choice for the sake of making one. He suggested that taking classes without focusing on a major right now à la Reagan isn’t a bad idea. Of course, he had to acknowledge that the longer I waffled, the less likely the “stay at Princeton” option would apply, because I’d fail the semester.

I think my biggest fear about going back to Princeton isn’t Princeton itself—I’ve accepted that the school just isn’t for me. And I’ve already called the hospital to inform them that I’m quitting my volunteer position.

My biggest fear is facing Ashton again and my weakness around him. A simple look or touch could pull me back to him and that’s not good for either of us. I’ve walked away once. Will the second time be harder or easier? Or impossible . . .

My life is full of difficult choices and one that’s easy—Ashton.

And he’s the one choice that I can’t have.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Choices

I swear Reagan was waiting at the door like an eager pet for the sound of the unlocking mechanism, because the second I step through on Friday night, she barrels into me. “I missed you so much!”

“It’s only been two weeks, Reagan,” I say with a chuckle, tossing my purse on the desk. I decided to come back to Princeton after all. Not because I particularly feel like this is the place for me, but because I do know that I want an education, and until they either kick me out or I transfer to Miami—which I looked into while back at home—I may as well be here.

Tucking my hair back behind my ear, I ask casually, “So how has everything been?”

Her nose scrunches up. “Same. Don’t know. Ashton’s staying at my parents’ right now and I can’t get anything out of my dad. Grant’s been staying here a lot because the house isn’t much fun right now. Connor is hurt. But he’ll be fine, Livie. Seriously. He just needs to get laid.” She flops down onto her bed in typical Reagan fashion—dramatically. “Oh, and Ty sprained his ankle. Dumbass.”

I chuckle, but it doesn’t loosen the angst inside.

“What’s your plan for this weekend?” She hesitates. “Are you going to see him?”

I know who “him” is and it’s not Connor. I shake my head. No . . . We need more than two weeks to sort this mess out. It’s too new. Too fresh. Too painful to deal with. “Trying to catch up, if there’s any hope.” I missed a week’s worth of classes, including a test. I slowly climb up the rungs to my bed, pushing out all the memories. “And I’m going to visit the boys at the hospital.” I have to say goodbye properly, for my own closure.

I get a text from Dr. Stayner as I’m taking the train in to the hospital. It has an address, along with the words:

One more task, since you owe me for not completing the last one. Be there at two p.m.

I don’t even question him anymore. The man’s brilliant. I simply respond with:

Okay.

“Hi, Livie.” Gale’s beaming smile greets me at the front desk. When Kacey told Dr. Stayner that I was back in Miami, he contacted the hospital to let them know, in vague terms, what was happening. When I made the final decision that I would not be continuing on with the volunteer program, he sat with me while I called to let them know. They’ve been incredible with it all.

“The boys will be so happy to see you.”

“How are they?”

She winks. “Go see for yourself.”

Walking through the halls doesn’t make me as sick as it did before, I notice. I know it’s not because I have somehow gotten used to it. It’s because I’ve let go of the idea that this has to be my future.

The twins run to me with energy I haven’t seen in a while, clutching my legs and making me giggle.

“Come here!” Each of them grabs hold of a hand. They pull me over to the table. If they were upset that I left so abruptly two weeks ago, they aren’t showing it.