She freezes too, eyes wide and guilty, like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. We both know what this looks like.
Despite the obvious, she’s my friend, and for one foolish, fleeting second, I pretend not to see it.
“Erin. What are you doing here?” I even lean in for a hug, automatic, stupid.
We separate, and I instantly regret it. My mind’s racing, tripping over itself, trying to piece together an alternate reality, one where this isn’t what it so clearly is.
“Um, I…” Her gaze darts everywhere but at me.
“Did you spend the night here?” My voice is calm, too calm. Time slows. She blanches, her face draining of color, and I no longer need a verbal answer.
“Shit. Yes, I did. Let me explain.” She’s flustered, nothing like the cool, composed lawyer I’m used to.
I stand there, transfixed, my stomach sinking as I take in the whole damn picture. Her rumpled blouse, her heels dangling from her hand, the front door cracked open behind her.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Liv, let me explain.”
“How long?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. “Almost six months.” Shame tints her cheeks pink.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Six months. Jesus, Erin.”
“It happened by accident. Remember, you asked me to talk to Drew about law school? Well, I came over because you’d asked me to, and…” She sighs, trailing off, repeating it again—because you asked me to.
Like this is somehow my fault.
“If you say that one more time, Erin…” The warning hangs between us.
She fidgets with the strap of her Dior purse, then finally murmurs, “Pete asked me to stay for dinner, and one thing led to another…”
Her voice fades, and then I watch it happen, the shift. The guilt melts away, her spine straightens, and the high-priced litigator reemerges. The friend disappears, replaced by someone bracing for a courtroom fight.
“I remember the night.” I’m slowly piecing together the timeline. “Drew had dinner with me before heading back to school. Paige was at Marci’s.”
It wasn’t like she’d been invited to a family dinner or heck, had even talked to Drew. He was with me.
She knew exactly what dinner meant. She likely came to my ex-husband’s house with that intention. I remember that night vividly. I’d suggested she speak with Drew atmyhouse, or better yet, joinusfor dinner.
Erin’s shrewd. I know what she’s capable of. We’ve been friends since high school, and I’ve witnessed more than my fair share of her schemes—especially when it comes to getting what she wants. It’s what makes her such a damn good lawyer—ruthless, focused, and completely unapologetic once she’s set her sights on something.
“You’ve been sleeping with Pete since then.” It’s not a question.
She folds her arms across her chest and gives the smallest, curt nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice is tight, unfamiliar even to me. I’ve never felt this level of betrayal before, not from her even with all her barbs and snark.
“Seriously? How was I supposed to tell you?” She rolls her eyes likeI’mthe one being unreasonable. The audacity nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“We’re friends, and let’s park the girl code because surely you can’t be so oblivious as not to know you broke it. Pete wasn’t some boyfriend, Erin. As if that would make this all right.” I snort, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“He was my husband for twenty years and your friend for that long too. Did you always want to sleep with him?” The words tumble out, and I’m only just piecing this together in the moment.
My mind unravels as the past steamrolls through me. But I hold my ground. Any sign of weakness and she’ll seize it.
She scoffs. “He was supposed to be mine.”
