Two years. The math wasn't hard.
"He was already gone," Lori said. "I just didn't know it yet."
And now Ethan had to stand up at the wedding. Be a groomsman. Smile for photos next to a woman who had been sleeping with his father while his parents were still married.
"The groomsman thing was Tessa's idea," Lori added. "She wants the 'blended family' photo op. Told Kevin it would show everyone they're all moving forward together. Like she's not the reason we fell apart."
"Ethan hasn't said yes. He hasn't said no. He just... stopped talking. Stopped coming out of his room, stopped answering Kevin's calls. He was already angry about the divorce, and now this."
Meredith leaned forward. "Can you tell him he doesn't have to do it?"
"I want to. Every day I want to." Lori pressed her fingers to her temples. "But if I do, I'm the bitter ex-wife. I'm the reason he doesn't have a relationship with his dad. Kevin's already told Ethan that I poisoned him against the idea. That I can't let go. That I'm the toxic one." She paused. "I can't be that mother. I won't."
She stared at the ceiling for a moment, composing herself.
"So I just watch him disappear. Watch him carry all this anger he doesn't know what to do with. And I can't fix it because anything I say gets twisted into proof that I'm the problem."
Olivia had been listening through Carrie and Lori's confessions, arms crossed, staring at the table. But now she spoke.
Dan. The emotional affair. The texts. The counseling. They'd heard the outline at the beach. Not what she'd actually seen.
"February," she said. "A Tuesday. I came home from work early because I had a headache. Dan was in the shower. His phone was on the kitchen counter, and it lit up with a text."
The name said Rachel. A coworker. Olivia had met her once at a holiday party. Nice enough. Forgettable.
"The text said: I wish I could talk to you right now."
Olivia had picked up the phone. She didn't mean to. She just did.
"There were hundreds of messages. Months of them." Her voice caught. "Not sexual. That was the thing. No photos, no explicit language. Just... intimacy."
Inside jokes. Complaints about their days. Conversations Dan should have been having with her.
You're the only one who gets it. I hate that we can't just be together. I think about you constantly.
"He didn't sleep with her," Olivia said. "At least he says he didn't. But he was hers. Emotionally, completely hers."
The confrontation. The tears. Dan swearing it was over, he'd made a mistake, he'd do anything. Couples counseling. Date nights. The whole playbook.
"And I'm supposed to forgive him," Olivia said. "Because he didn't technically cross the line."
She stopped there. No one moved.
"But I might."
No one knew what to say to that.
"There's someone," Olivia said. "His name is Michael. I joined a hiking group a few months ago, just to get out of the house. To have something that was mine." She looked toward the window, the dark ocean beyond. "We started carpooling to the trailheads. Just logistics at first. Then we'd grab coffee after. Then the coffee turned into lunch."
It had started as venting. He was divorced, understood what it was like to feel alone inside a marriage. He listened to her. Really listened. Something Dan hadn't done in years.
"I haven't done anything. We haven't..." She stopped. "It's not like that. But I think about him. I check my phone for his texts. I get dressed more carefully on hiking days. I..."
She couldn't finish.
"I'm standing on the line," she said. "And I don't know which way I'm going to fall."
"Whatever you decide," Jen said, "you're not doing it alone."
