P.S. I Still Love You

accounting for taste. I’ve never been a fan of German chocolate cake myself, because who wants wet
coconut flakes? Shudder.
Kitty’s been running around with her friends, and she’s deigned to help me out at the cake walk for
an hour when Peter walks in with his little brother, Owen. “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is playing. Kitty
goes over to say hello, while I busy myself looking at my phone as she’s showing them the cakes. I’ve
got my head down, pretend-texting, when Peter comes up beside me.
“Which cake is yours? The coconut one?”
My head snaps up. “I would never buy a grocery-store cake for this.”
“I was joking, Covey. Yours is the caramel one. I can tell by the way you frosted it so fancy.” He
stops talking and shoves his hands in his pockets. “So, just so you know, I didn’t go to the nursing
home with Gen to help her tag you out.”
I shrug. “For all I know you’ve already texted her and told her I’m here, so.”
“I told you, I don’t give a shit about this game. I think it’s dumb.”
“Well, I don’t. I’m still planning on winning.” I put on the next song for the cake walk, and all the
kids run into position. “So are you and Genevieve back together?”
He makes a rude sound. “What do you care?”
Again I shrug. “I knew you’d be back with her eventually.”
Peter smarts at this. He turns like he’s going to leave, but then he stops. Rubbing the back of his
neck, he says, “You never answered my question about McClaren. Was that a date?”
“What do you care?”
His nostrils flare. “I fucking care because you were my girlfriend up until a few weeks ago. I don’t
even remember why we broke up.”
“If you can’t remember, then I don’t know what to say to you.”
“Just tell the truth. Don’t dick me around.” His voice cracks on the word “dick.” Any other time
we would have laughed about it. I wish we could now. “What’s going on with you and McClaren?”
There’s a lump in my throat that’s making it hard to talk all of a sudden. “Nothing.” Just a kiss.
“We’re friends. He’s been helping me with the game.”
“How convenient. First he’s writing you letters, now he’s driving you around town and hanging out
with you at a nursing home.”
“You said you didn’t care about the letters.”
“Well, I guess I did.”
“Then maybe you should have said so.” Kitty’s looking over at us, her forehead pinched. “I don’t
walk to talk about this anymore. I’m here to work.”
Peter eyes me. “Have you kissed him?”
Do I tell the truth? Do I have to? “Yes. Once.”
He blinks. “So you’re telling me I’ve been living the life of a celibate person ever since we started
this stupid game—before, even—and meanwhile you’re fooling around with McClaren?”
“We’re broken up, Peter. Meanwhile, when we were actually together, you were with Genevieve
—”
He throws his head back and yells, “I didn’t kiss her!” Some of the adults turn and look at us.
“You had your arms around her,” I whisper-yell. “You were holding her!”
“I was comforting her. God! She was crying! I told you! Did you do it to get back at me?” Peter
wants me to say yes. He wants it to have been about him. But I wasn’t thinking about Peter when I