“What’s up?” Rainey asks, her brow furrowed. Carson clears her throat.

“I’m not graduating this spring.”

I blink at her, then shoot a look at Rainey, whose mouth has sort of dropped open.

“What are you talking about?”

Carson sighs.

“When I decided not to student teach this spring, I gave up on my last required credits. I thought I might be able to make them up some other way, like through a class or something. But I missed Drop/Add and the registrar wouldn’t let me into a course retroactively.”

She takes a sip of her drink.

“So, sure, we can go to the beach—but it won’t be a post-graduation celebration for me, that’s all.”

For a long moment, we’re all quiet.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” I finally ask her.

“I didn’t want to bum you all out.” She gives us a self-deprecating smile. “Look, this is my deal. I’ve got to handle it. I’m going to go back in the fall—hopefully do my student teaching then—and graduate in December. It really isn’t that huge of a deal.”

I nod slowly, wanting to be supportive.

“Well, that sounds like a good plan.”

I scoot over and give her a one-armed squeeze around her shoulders. “I wish you’d told us before, Cars. Seriously.”

She half shrugs and reaches for a handful of chips.

“I know—I guess I just didn’t want to think about it. Tutoring has kept me busy and I’ve even started working with commuter students on some college classes. It’s nice to do the one-on-one thing. I think I’m just better at that.

“So, anyway.” She bites her lip, then shrugs again. “Sorry to be such a downer.”

Rainey hops up from her stool and comes around to our side of the table. She pulls Carson from her seat into a big hug.

“We love you. We’re here for you.”

She pulls back a bit, then stares at Carson and me.

“In fact, why not celebrate before the summer? We don’t need to wait until June—my parents’ condo in Ocean City is always empty. Let’s drive down to the shore. It’s not that warm yet, but we can hit up Seacrets and get our Dirty Bananas on!”

It’s a tempting thought—Seacrets beach bar makes the best banana cocktails on the planet. But I shake my head.

“I can’t—I’ve got so much grading to do. Not to mention my date with Jeremy on Friday night.”

“Boo,” Rainey says, giving me a thumbs-down. She glances back at Carson. “What about you? You going to be a party pooper, too?”

Carson looks at me. “Honestly, Cyn, I could use a weekend away. Would you be totally pissed if we ditched you?”

“Of course not.” I shake my head. “You should totally go. Go meet some guys, go dance, go drink. All of that stuff. You deserve to have fun, too.”

Rainey lets out a joyful little whoop, then grabs her phone off the table.

“I’m going to go call Dad and let him know we’re using the condo.”

She practically skips toward the door of the restaurant, her phone already pressed to her ear. I take the opportunity to give Carson a proper hug.

“I hate that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me,” I say quietly as I pull back to look at her. “I just don’t want you to think you can’t tell me stuff.”

Her mouth lifts in a sad smile and, for the first time, I see how tired her eyes are. She looks like she’s been losing sleep.

“You’ve had a lot going on lately,” she says. “I know things are hard with your dad and then there’s student teaching and the stuff with Smith. Now, throw this Jeremy dude in the mix, and the last thing you need is to listen to my sob story.”

I elbow her gently. “I will always have time to listen to your sob stories—that’s what sisters do for each other.”

There’s a sheen of tears in Carson’s eyes now and she finally hugs me back.

“I just want to find my place in this world, you know?”

I exhale hard, then nod.

“Yeah. I know.”

Rainey comes bounding back into the bar, grinning from ear to ear.

“We’re all set!” She turns to me with a little pout. “You’re sure you can’t go?”

“Positive. But I know you guys will have a blast.”

Rainey drops her chin into her hand and regards me. “There is, however, a very important subject we need to discuss.”

I quirk a brow at her. Rainey isn’t usually one for breaking out the big guns when it comes to heavy conversation.

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

Her naturally pouty lips curve up into a wicked little smile.

“We need to talk about what you’re planning to wear on this big date of yours. I, for one, think you should try rocking those black leather boots again.”

I groan. “What, since I had so much luck in them last time?”

“Exactly!”

I glance over at Carson, who is grinning widely. Rainey launches into an extensive overview of the sexiest items in her closet, and I take another sip of my drink.

Yeah. Life is complicated. But, if nothing else, I have this—these almost-sisters I couldn’t imagine living without and one completely delicious frozen margarita.

Chapter Thirteen

Breaking Point

“So, tell me about yourself.”

I look at Jeremy, sitting across from me and smiling encouragingly, then let my eyes move over the rest of the restaurant. I wonder if the owners designed it to be a cliché romantic atmosphere. The candlelight, the violin music, and even the heart-shaped salt-and-pepper shakers scream, “I’m trying to get laid.” Or, at the very least, “I’m trying to impress a girl I barely know.”

I shrug in answer to his question and give him a small smile.

“There’s not much to tell. I grew up in Catonsville—about ten minutes from the city. I’m really close to my father. I’ve got great friends. I guess that’s about it.”

“What about your mom?”

I run my hands over the linen napkin in my lap.

“She left when I was a baby. I never knew her.”

Jeremy swallows hard, then clears his throat.

“Oh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t—”

I hold up a hand, shaking my head. “Don’t worry about it. Ancient history.”

His smile looks kind of wobbly now. Uncertain. Not at all like the confident smirk of another guy I know. I force that thought out of my head.

“How about you?” I ask, reaching for my wine. “What’s your story?”

Jeremy seems far more comfortable talking about himself, and he launches into a substantial life history. I nod politely when he tells me about his four sisters and his parents’ perfect marriage, about how he went to the University of Delaware to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a high school teacher.

“Of course, he majored in history, not science,” he says, grinning broadly. “But he forgives me for my ‘mistaken choice in subject matter,’ as he calls it.”

“It sounds like you have a wonderful family. I’m surprised you’d move so far away from them.”

He leans back in his chair, his lips pursed. I take the opportunity to examine his face. His cheeks are absent of scruff. He really is clean cut. A proverbial good boy.

The opposite of everything I’ve been drawn to lately.

“I guess I just wanted to strike out on my own,” Jeremy finally says. “Delaware isn’t all that far from Baltimore, anyway.”

He reaches for his wine and takes a sip.

“How about you?” he asks. “Why’d you stay so close to home?”

I open my mouth, prepared to say something about Dad, then snap it shut. For whatever reason, I just can’t go there. Not on a first date.

Instead, I say, “I got a scholarship. It was cheaper to stay.”

It’s not a lie, and it seems to satisfy him. Moments later, our food arrives and I dig into my pasta arrabbiata.

“I hate when women don’t eat on dates,” he says approvingly. “I think it’s important to have a healthy appetite.”