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“Like…bowling,” I suggested.

He made a face. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” I squeezed him harder. “We used to love to bowl back in Montana.”

“That’s because there wasn’t much else to do back in Montana.” Calder laughed.

I shook him playfully. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

“Well, I’m sure we can find a bowling alley somewhere near here.” He sighed. “Sure, yeah.”

I jumped excitedly. “I can’t wait to kick your ass per usual.”

“I think you mean you can’t wait to watch me kick your ass, yeah?” He flipped around and tickled me.

I broke out into laughter. This was good. Life was good.

“I’m gonna go freshen up, and then we can leave.”

“Okay, babe.”

Calder and I found a bowling alley about a twenty-minute walk from our apartment. We held hands as we strolled, grabbed to-go coffees on the way, and enjoyed the warm breeze.

When we got there, adrenaline filled me at the sight of the neon lights, the rumble of balls rolling down the lane, and the crashing of the pins. It was sensory overload in the best way and reminded me so much of home. The smell of pizza and nachos in the air made my stomach growl. An afternoon of bowling was just what the doctor ordered.

The attendant handed us our bowling shoes, Calder’s purple and brown and mine maroon and green. Why did they have to make the color combinations so obnoxious? It always grossed me out to put on a pair of shoes so many others had worn, but I sucked it up. Then we got situated in lane nine.

Despite the pleasant walk over, a nervous energy began to brew inside me again as we started to bowl. I wasn’t a bad bowler by any means. But this time? I was kicking ass, getting strike after strike—killing it, not a single gutter ball in sight. Normally, I’d at least have one. But my aim seemed to be laser focused this time.

“When you said you were gonna kick my ass earlier, I didn’t think it would actually happen like this!” Calder clapped. “You’re doing amazing, baby.”

I wiped some sweat off my forehead. “What can I say? I guess I haven’t lost it.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You’ve never been this good, though.”

My bowling performance was likely the physical manifestation of pent-up frustration I was trying my hardest to release. It felt good to take it out on something. The bowling pins couldn’t actually feel pain. They were one of the few things I could destroy without consequence, unlike my relationship.

When it was Calder’s turn, I heckled him. He looked back at me with a wicked grin, and I reminded myself how lucky I was to have a good man. How lucky I was to be living in New York City with him. And really, just how lucky I was to be alive.

Then came the voice in my head: Do you have to constantly remind yourself of such things if you’re truly happy, Talia?

“Fuck off,” I whispered to it.

“What did you say?” Calder asked as he returned to our seats by the scoreboard.

“Nothing.” I waved my hand.

Our bowling competition was interrupted when Calder’s phone rang.

“Hey, man,” he answered. He blocked one ear so he could hear better then mouthed, “It’s Rafe.”

My heart began to race. Why is he calling? The guilt I’d tried so hard to bury today came rushing to the surface. So did the paranoia. I’d probably be perpetually paranoid now any time Calder and Rafe spoke. I still didn’t know what the hell I’d said to Rafe the other night. What if he decided to tell Calder everything? Could I trust Rafe?

I reached for a bottle of water and downed it while struggling to hear what Calder was saying. After a few minutes, he finally hung up.

“What did Rafe want?” I asked, trying to seem casual as I closed the top to the water bottle.

“He was just returning my call from this morning.”