My Boyfriend's Plus-One Problem

I turned and walked away.

Henry froze, then ran after me and grabbed my wrist.

"Sarah, seriously? Is this really that big a deal? It's one room. Why are you making such a fuss?"

I pulled free. "One room? Did you even ask me first?"

"What was there to ask? Jenny went to college with us. It's not safe for a girl to stay alone in a hotel. What's wrong with sharing for one night? She doesn't even need a bed. She can sleep on the couch."

I stared at him. His face suddenly felt unfamiliar.

"Then why didn't you tell me when you booked it? Why not before we got in the car? You waited until we got here to tell me we'd be sharing one room. Henry, what do you take me for?"

"I just didn't want you to overthink it."

He frowned—the same look he always gave me when he thought I was being unreasonable.

"You always do this. You turn every little thing into a huge issue. Jenny's just getting a ride and crashing in our room. Do you really have to make it into something more?"

"I'm making it into something more?" I almost laughed. "You brought another woman to share our hotel room, and because I'm not okay with it, I'm the problem?"

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Figure it out. That's not my problem."

I hit the elevator button.

"If you're so worried about her, stay with her. I'm out."

The doors opened, and I stepped inside.

Henry stayed where he was.

"Sarah, stop being so dramatic. We're supposed to be on vacation. Do you have to ruin it for everyone?"

As the elevator doors closed, Jenny rushed out of the room behind me, her voice soft and unsure.

"Henry, maybe I should leave. I don't want you two fighting because of me."

I never heard his answer.

In the lobby, I asked the front desk about open rooms.

After a quick check, the receptionist nodded. Someone had just canceled a king room—$220 a night.

Normally, I would've hated spending that much. This time, I handed over my ID and paid without blinking.

My room was on the twelfth floor. Theirs was on the ninth.

The second I got inside, I dropped my suitcase, flopped onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling.

My phone kept buzzing. Henry had sent a string of texts.

[What exactly do you want?]

[Did you really have to turn our vacation into this?]

[Sarah, can you please be reasonable?]

I didn't reply.

Ten minutes later, another text came in.

[I talked to Jenny. She's staying at a hostel. Come back.]

I stared at it for a long time before typing back.

[Henry, let's break up.]

The second I hit send, I tossed my phone facedown on the bed.

My heart pounded. My palms were sweaty.

Three minutes later, I grabbed my phone again.

[Are you sure?]

I looked at the screen and smiled.

[I'm sure.]

His reply came right away.

[Fine. Don't regret it.]

I didn't respond.

About half an hour later, my stomach started hurting.

I'd only had snacks in the car at noon. It was almost eight, and I still hadn't eaten dinner.

I washed my face, changed, and headed downstairs.

A food street near the hotel was packed for the long weekend. I wandered through it, planning to pick whichever place had the shortest line.

Then I stopped outside one restaurant.

Not because there was no line.

Through the window, I saw Henry and Jenny.