“Eva,” he starts again. I look up and meet his eyes, and he continues, “I made a mistake, but I didn’t cause this. You could’ve called someone else. I’m sure Grace—”

“Fuck you.” Tears blur my vision. I swear I’ve cried more in the past week than in the past year. “You could’ve told me you weren’t coming instead of leaving me there. You could’ve at least texted.” I wipe at my cheeks and wince at the pain. “And afterwards? You should’ve told me.”

He looks aghast, as if I’d just suggested his father was a closet Democrat. “I didn’t want to break up while you were in the hospital.”

“Were you going to break up with me?”

He goes perfectly still, and I know him well enough to tell by his expression that he’s debating how truthful he should be. After a moment, he says, “No, but I figured you would break up with me. It’s not what I want; it was what I was trying to prevent. Amy threatened to tell you about us that night if I didn’t. That’s where I was. I was trying to convince her not to tell you.”

“For how long?”

“Does it matter?” Robert’s tone is evasive.

Pieces start clicking into place for me. Even as I hope I’m wrong, I say, “That’s why she made such a big deal over me sleeping with you.”

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” Robert says.

When we were dating, I was grateful that he wasn’t trying to get in my pants. Now I understand why. “The whole time we were dating, you were sleeping with Amy?”

“No. Not the first few weeks, but . . . when Amy came up to me at the party, that one you couldn’t make, it just made sense. I’ve always liked her, but I couldn’t date her. My parents would be furious, especially since I was dating you. They think you’re perfect.”

“I see.”

“I broke it off though. I told her the other week that we were done, but she showed up when I was getting ready to leave to meet you that night, and she was just being crazy. She’s not usually like that, but she threatened to tell you, and to tell my parents what we had done. Dad would get it, but Mom would be upset. Everyone knows about Amy’s past.”

Despite everything, I feel bad for Amy. We aren’t friends, but she doesn’t deserve this any more than I do. My voice is still level when I ask, “Did you tell Amy that?”

“I did.” He pauses, glances at me awkwardly, and then adds, “Just so you know, I was careful. I used a condom every time. I wouldn’t risk us that way. She went on the pill too.”

“So what do you propose? I know about her now.”

“I don’t know. I figured you’d be yelling at me by now, but you’re not. You’re still you just with a messed-up face now.” He pauses. “I can be a better boyfriend, Eva.”

My “messed-up face” hurts from how tightly I’m clenching my jaw now. Robert is an idiot. I stare at him in a sort of disconnected shock. I understand the importance of reputation, of the pressure not to be “bad,” of not failing our parents. It was one of the things we had in common, but I don’t get how that evolved into this mess. I can hear in his voice that he cares about Amy. There’s a softness there that I’m not even sure he notices.

“What do your parents think about the accident? Did you tell them?”

Robert laughs as if I’d made a joke. “I told them I had a flat. They, umm, think I’ve been visiting you.”

I don’t need to ask where he went when he was too guilty to come here, but lying to the Baucoms about it.

“You should apologize to Amy,” I say as calmly as I can. “And me. You should apologize to me. I deserve an apology.”

Robert isn’t the first guy to date someone on the side, and he’s certainly not the first to date a girl in secret because of her reputation, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it. Jessup is still the sort of place where name and money matter too much; I know the whole world isn’t like that, but our town still is. I don’t want it to be like that, and I thought Robert agreed with me. Obviously, I misunderstood.

His beautiful blue eyes are wide, and I wonder if I’d have forgiven him if not for the accident. Girls forgive boys for cheating all the time. Some keep doing it as adults. Robert’s dad has a long-term relationship with a colleague that Robert and his mom both know about, though no one ever mentions it. I don’t want to be one of the women who thinks it’s fine to “look the other way.”

“I can’t do this,” I tell him. “We’re done.”

“People will think I broke up with you because of how you look,” Robert says, and I’m not even shocked that his objections are about other people’s perceptions. He doesn’t tell me that he’ll miss me or argue that we share something special.

“Tell them I broke up with you.”

“Can we, umm, at least break up as friends?” Robert asks.

“Sure,” I snap. It’s not like there’s much option in a town the size of Jessup. Our families are friends; our friends are friends. There’s no way to avoid being around each other, so we’ll do what everyone does after they break up: we’ll put on masks and be polite. I can’t start pretending today. I’m not so much hurt that we failed, but I am hurt that he cheated and lied to me. I meet his eyes and say, “We’ll be friends, but I need time, Robert.”