She snatched her arm away. “What went wrong?” she asked him.

“What?”

“‘Four fucking years ago,’ Sam. What went wrong? How did it end?”

“Yeah, Sam,” I chimed in. “Tell her. Please. And, while you’re at it, I’d appreciate an illuminated recap because I was kind of deprived of your high-level reasoning back then.” I drained my drink, set the glass on the counter and crossed my arms to keep them from trembling. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Sam looked between us, an expression of incredulousness on his handsome face. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered. “I am not doing this. Here. Now. With either of you.”

“So, she wasn’t lying then,” Camryn said, her voice turning several degrees colder. “You really did something to warrant her anger and total bitchiness.”

Total bitchiness? “Hey,” I said. “I’m not being — ”

She pointed a well-manicured fingernail at me. “You shut up. You’ve caused enough trouble.”

Then she scowled at Sam. “Were you planning to break up with me this month? Is that why, no matter how many times I asked you about Labor Day plans or whose house we’d meet at for Thanksgiving, you kept putting me off? Is that why you couldn’t commit to going to my brother’s wedding in October? Why you kept saying, ‘We’ll see, Camryn,’ every time I brought it up?”

Sam stared at her. So did I.

“Answer me, dammit!” she shrieked.

He exhaled long and hard. “Camryn, please. Let’s go somewhere else and discuss this rationally. I don’t want — ”

“No! I want to know now. I don’t want you trying to weasel out of it again.”

Sam shrugged, but his shoulders looked so stiff I thought they’d crack from the motion.

“Okay, fine,” he told her. “The thing is, I don’t know about the wedding. I don’t have a clue what our schedules are going to look like then. We’ll both probably be up to our ears in work. You know as well as I do that’s what med school is all about.”