Page 73 of The Man in the Cottage

"Please tell me you escaped."

"I told him I had a work emergency. He asked if he could call me. I said my phone was broken." She sighs. "Then I went home and ate an entire sleeve of Oreos while watching Say Yes to the Dress."

I'm laughing. Actually laughing, the kind that makes my stomach hurt and my eyes water. Nicole is cackling beside me, and Mona is shaking her head with a look of profound sympathy.

"The worst part?" Brit continues. "He texted me the next day from a different number. Apparently his phone wasn't broken, so he 'knew' mine wasn't either."

"No."

"Yes. I had to block two numbers. Two."

"That's genuinely unhinged," Mona says.

"That's dating in your late twenties. Welcome to hell."

We spend the next hour trading horror stories. Mona talks about a guy who showed up to a date with his mother—not to introduce them, but because he "didn't like driving at night." Nicole tells us about a man she went out with who spent the entire dinner explaining why women weren't funny. Brit has approximately seven thousand more Hinge disasters, each worse than the last.

By the time we're on the third bottle of wine, my face hurts from smiling. The media story, the family drama, all of it feels distant—still there, but muted. Like something happening to someone else.

"Okay," Nicole says, settling back into the couch. "Serious question. How's Travis handling all this?"

"He's... good. Angry on my behalf, mostly. He wanted to drive to his parents' house and yell at them, but I talked him down."

"Probably wise."

"He's been really supportive. Helping me strategize, talking to his agent, making sure I don't spiral." I smile. "He built me a fire this morning before he left. Didn't even ask, just did it because he knew I was cold."

"That's disgustingly sweet," Brit says.

"It is disgustingly sweet. I hate how much I like him."

"You don't hate it."

"No. I don't." I lean my head back against the couch. "I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For him to decide this is too much, that I'm not worth the hassle. But he just... keeps showing up."

"That's what good partners do," Nicole says. "They show up. Especially when it's hard."

"Have you talked about the future?" Mona asks. "Like, long-term?"

I think about our conversation a few nights ago. The life he described—quiet, steady, me in all of it. The way he said I'll always choose you like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"A little," I say. "Nothing concrete. But we're on the same page about wanting... something. Something real."

"Something real." Nicole grins. "Look at you. A few months ago you were running away from your life, and now you've got a hockey player building you fires and defending your honor."

"I wasn't running away. I was making a strategic retreat."

"Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I throw a pillow at her, and she catches it, laughing. Mona starts gathering the empty wine bottles, and Brit is already scrolling through her phone looking for more dating horror stories to share.

This is what I needed. Not advice, not solutions, just this—my friends, in my living room, making me laugh when everything feels impossible. Reminding me that I'm not alone, that I have people who show up for me no matter what.

"Hey," I say, and they all look at me. "Thank you. For coming. For this."

"You'd do the same for us," Nicole says.

"I would. But still. Thank you."