“Christ, I don’t take ownership of anything. Let me own this.”
Aubrey hesitates, her feelings all twisted and tumbled like sheets in a dryer. Mallory’s her best friend, Ilena too, and they would never hurt her intentionally. But they never fully accepted Ethan—and, well, yes, that hurt. Maybe they didn’t like him, maybe they didn’t have reason to mourn him the way she did, maybe they couldn’t understand why Aubrey would, because maybe they realized who Ethan was. But they didn’t have to mourn Ethan for Ethan. They had to mourn Ethan for her.
Mallory takes Aubrey’s hand. “I’m sorry, Aubrey. That’s not what best friends do.”
Their fingers entwine, and for the first time in all these years of being together, Aubrey truly feels like she belongs. They’re close enough friends to fail one another. And be forgiven.
Aubrey squeezes Mallory’s hand so tightly, it hurts them both, but neither lets go.
“Fuck Ethan,” Mallory says. “You deserve to be loved by someone who forgets to breathe when you walk into a room.”
“Yeah, I think, I mean, I do. That’s exactly what I deserve.”
Through the glass door, AIM stills. Three uniformed police officers stand before Noreen’s desk.
Mallory releases Aubrey’s hand. “I was sleeping with him. Grayson.”
Aubrey nods, not surprised.
“I didn’t tell anyone. I thought it would undermine my credibility. And I guess I also thought it was just sex. Spectacular sex, granted, but just sex.”
“But?”
“It maybe wasn’t just sex.”
Aubrey’s heart lifts with happiness for Mallory before she realizes that whatever Mallory had, she lost it too.
“I hope I didn’t do it on purpose,” Mallory whispers.
“Me too,” Aubrey says. “But if you did, we’ll deal with it together.”
As Noreen assists the police officers, Harley scurries to the office door. But then, there’s Kai, scooping up the dog and soothing him with long strokes through his soft fur. Aubrey smiles at him. And despite the hot-and-cold game she’s been inadvertently playing the past few days, he smiles back. She likes him. Plain and simple. No pro-con list needed. She doesn’t have to question it.
What she does have to question is what comes next.
40
Ilena
Monday Morning
Four DaysAfterthe Outing
Ilena straightens the biodegradable carrying tray on the bench beside her. The mingling aromas of strong coffee, Earl Grey, mocha, and peppermint make her slightly nauseous, her superior sense of smell apparently a pregnancy superpower, but she wasn’t sure what James liked and she wanted to have options.
Remembering what Felix said about James and punctuality, she arrived early and chose a bench closest to the dock. Across from her is a rainbow of kayaks and paddleboards, stacked one on top of another, looped by a cord and locked, waiting to be rented, their purpose otherwise unfulfilled, in need of someone else to bring them to life. It was the way Ilena had been starting to feel as month after month after month, her body refused to do as she asked.
She couldn’t understand why it was just her, why it wasn’t the same for Jonah, why he could put it out of his mind the same way he forgot about the time-outs in the hallway that pushed them to buy their house. He forgot this too, the kayaks and paddleboards they’d always talked about renting as theydrove past on their way to that exorbitantly priced home with its postage-stamp yard and crumbling detached garage.
He asked for the divorce so easily. He must have been wanting it for a while. And she’d had no idea.
“Mrs. Singh,” a singsong voice says.
Ilena puts on a smile. “Thank you for coming, James.”
“God, you are glowing, aren’t you?” James says with both honesty and derision. “Who thought Ilena Cohen could get more gorgeous? But then again, you’re full of surprises.”
“Not always good ones, it seems.”
