It all felt too painful, too...close.
Plus, I didn’t wantthe other woman’sname in ink in my journal. It felt like tarnishing something sacred.
I didn’t want to relive it, to remember how it felt to realize I was so disposable to the man I’d married and to the friends who meant something to me.
All that day did was prove my greatest fear—apart from the porch of my grandparents’ old farmhouse, I had never found a place where I belonged.
I look at Miles and find him studying me with a quiet intensity that contradicts his demeanor.
“Uh-oh. Are we going to trade war stories?” I ask.
He points an ice-cream-filled spoon at himself. “Compartmentalization king over here.”
“Yeah, I know. Then I can’t unload my tale of woe on you.”
He takes a bite. “Sure you can. I’m a great listener.”
I look at him. “Well, that’s hardly fair.”
“I know,” he says, smirking. “Isn’t it great?”
I shake my head and roll my eyes.
And then, after a beat and out of character, Miles takes on a more serious tone.
“What happened, Claire?” I look up and he meets my eyes. “You can tell me.”
I stick the spoon in what’s left of the gelato and set the cup on the floor of the gazebo beside me. “Just to prepare you—this story doesn’t have a happy ending.” I draw in a breath, and I’m back there in a flash. It’s amazing how easy it is to feel every detail of the days that changed your life.
No matter how much you’d rather forget them.
Chapter 19
A little over one year ago
I’m locked in a stall, trying not to clear my throat or breathe too loudly.
“I cannot believe she actually had the nerve to show up here.” I hear the water turn on in the women’s bathroom of the country club.
I know that voice.
And I often learn about the pertinent gossip this way. Perks of being a fly on the wall.
“And did you see what she’swearing? Ugh. Does she know this is a fundraiser for the children’s hospital? She looks like she’s auditioning to be a Vegas showgirl.”
That’s Roxie Cartwright. I can almost picture her face, pumped full of Botox, permanently showing the same expression.
I know exactly who she’s talking about.
The young blonde wearing a silver sequin miniskirt and matching tank top—skirt too high and top too low—had definitely made an impression.
“What do you expect from a woman who doesn’t think twice about sleeping with a married man?” Lainey Russell, wife of my husband John’s business partner Bill.
“But here? Of all the places—” The water comes on. “When Claire is the one who planned this whole event?”
Wait.
Wait. What?
