Never Getting Back Together

FIVE

I crack the front door open, expecting to see Ty's cocky grin. But my view is blocked by what has to be the most enormous binder the world's ever seen.

"Wow." I tilt my head to the side, studying the monstrosity. It's a foot wide and almost as thick. "I know you owe me an apology, but I didn't expect it to be quite so long."

"I'm sorry." Ty lowers the binder enough for me to see the sardonic glint in his eyes. "Who pushed who in the pool again?"

"Ooh, you were so close there. Should've quit while you were ahead."

"It's a thousand degrees out here, and this thing isn't exactly light. Are you gonna make me stand out here all day?"

The sun's at just the right angle, reflecting off the concrete of the porch. I can feel the heat radiating even from inside the doorway. Ty's probably melting. Good.

I shrug. "The pool's nice and cold. I'd be happy to push you in again."

"Hi, Ty." The hardwood floor lets out a creak as Betty comes up beside me. "What a pleasant surprise." Her eyes flick to mine like she's telepathically chastising me for being rude. "Why don't you come on in?" She reaches around me and swings the door open.

"You know what they say about inviting evil spirits into your house," I mutter.

"Thanks, Betty. I'd love to." Ty's expression is gloating. His arm brushes against mine as he follows Betty into the kitchen, and I wish I could erase my body's visceral memories of him. Goosebumps erupt on my skin despite the heat flooding through the open door. I can't help thinking about how it used to feel to be wrapped up in those arms.

I thunk my forehead against the door as I push it shut. I need a field guide for dealing with my ex-boyfriend. I want to hate him, but I also remember loving him, and the line between those two emotions is maddeningly blurry.

"Quinn, how about that water?" Betty's voice comes from the kitchen.

"Yes, please," I call and turn to follow after them.

Ty's at the counter-height table in the breakfast nook. The binder's open before him, and he's flicking through the pages.

This is fine. My ex-boyfriend is sitting in the kitchen like he still belongs here, which is fine. I'm fine. Tooooootally fine. I just need  someone to pass that message along to my heart. It's doing a complicated tap routine against my sternum, attempting to channel Fred Astaire.

"So, are you penning the next great American novel or what?" Liv asks, nodding toward the binder. She's standing in front of the marble countertop, shaking a cocktail mixer. Sunshine glints off the rows of white subway tiles that line the wall behind her. Betty pulls a couple of bottles of sparkling water out of the fridge and sets them on the table. I don't miss the fact that she places mine right next to Ty's.

Betty's always liked him. She tried to convince me to go talk to him after we broke up, but I couldn't. I was too angry. And since everything that happened between us was entirely his fault, I wasn't about to go crawling back to him. I kept expecting him to turn up on our doorstep with an apology and a handful of sunflowers. I waited all summer, but he never showed.

I scoop up the bottle of water in stride and stomp to the other side of the table.

"I'm just dropping off Quinn's homework." Ty flips the binder shut and pats the cover.

I do my best imitation of Liv's eyebrow quirk. "What are you talking about?"

"This is Paula's Founders Festival binder with all the event details."