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“Out with it,” Claire demanded, her voice cutting through Hartley’s musings.
“I, uh…” Hartley bit her lower lip. She’d never been one to swap sex stories, mostly because she didn’t have as much sex as her sorority sisters thought. But also because sharing felt dangerous. The less people knew about you, the less they could use to screw you over.
“Hartley,” Claire said softly, her face kind. “This is one of those times where you need to be honest.”
“I don’t really know what I regret, but I felt…bad. But not about the sex. The sex was…” she trailed off, searching for the right words.
“Incredible? Horrible? Earth shattering? A letdown?” Claire asked.
Hartley grabbed her hand with a laugh. “Stop,” she said. “It was different. More intimate than we usually are.”
“On both sides? Or just yours?” Claire asked.
“On his, obviously,” she replied automatically, then sighed when Claire looked at her doubtfully. “Mine, too.”
Claire smiled and poked Hartley’s knee. “Welcome to the grown-ups club.”
“Yeah? Well, the club fucking sucks.” A gnawing discomfort still worked away in her stomach.
“Hmmm... I admit, it’s not ideal to realize you have feelings for the guy you just signed divorce papers for,” Claire said.
“Feelingsmight take it too far,” Hartley said.
“Has this ‘different’ sex got you rethinking the divorce?” Claire asked.
Hartley waved her hand dismissively. “Not with signed papers already in his hands. Or at least in his lawyer’s hands.”
Claire shrugged. “Then, what?”
“I…” Hartley paused, trying to make sense of the confusion within her. She didn’t have doubts about their divorce. Their best times together had been before getting married and last night. It was more like she had fears. “What if I’m walking away from the best thing I can expect?” she wondered.
Monty had cheated, sure. He’d broken her only rule, absolutely. But after last night, and now seeing Claire and feeling envious of her for the first time—
“The best thing you can ‘expect’?” Claire shook her head, seeming outraged. “C’mon, Hartley. That sounds way too defeatist.”
“I don’t know,” Hartley confessed. Something bubbled up in her throat, and she was terrified it was tears.
“Well, whatever this is you’re feeling, it’s affected your fashion sense,” Claire said, plucking at the cotton sweatpants. “Although I’ll bet those are designer.”
“When have you ever seen me in somethingnotdesigner?” she asked, her voice threaded with some of her old humor. “Thank God Cavendish has no shortage of clothes. I borrowed these back when we had our girl’s night, before—hey, you were drinking wine that night!” Hartley pointed at Claire, then at her belly.
Claire groaned. “I don’t want to think about everything I ingested before I found out I was pregnant. The bottles of wine and champagne at Eli’s games. Then I caught an awful cold, drank a gallon of NyQuil, and hiked part way up to Machu Picchu.” Claire shook her head. “This baby might come out like Spiderman, just doused with alcohol instead of bitten by a radioactive spider.”
Hartley laughed, and it was genuine. Claire really did have a glow about her. “I said it before, but I’m happy for you, Claire. You’ve got something special with Eli, and he’s got it with you,” she said.
Claire smiled but looked wistful. “Maybe you and Montgomery should take a step back and re-evaluate everything,” she suggested. “After all of this, that is. Take some time apart and find out if the confusion means something else.”
“No, it’s too late. Despite last night’s incredible, strange sex, we’re oil and water.”
“Why strange?” Claire asked.
Hartley leaned over on her knees and laced her hands together. “We connected in a way we never have. We talked about things we’d never told each other.”
“Jesus, what’s wrong with that?” Claire wondered.
“It’s just not us. We live in the now, not the past. We never let old bullshit get in the way of…well, new bullshit, I guess.”
“You guysdolove a good fight,” Claire murmured.
