Page 88 of On the Line

“Did I hear a rumor that you’re with Jameson now?”

I nod. There’s no reason she can’t know about us.

“Is he supportive?”

“Unbelievably so. Not only supportive of me and my career, but he’s stepped in to help me on too many occasions to count.” Yet in my head, I am counting them: the will, the house, the renovation, the blizzard, skating, the wedding, Justin, the situation with Sophia. He has literallynevernot supported me.

“I think we have this expectation,” she says, “as a society, that men will work as much as it takes to be successful, but women should only work hard enough and be successful enough that it doesn’t inconvenience their partner or their family. But if you’ve found a man who encourages you, who wants to see you to succeed and shine in every aspect of life, including your career ... hold on to him. He’s a keeper.”

“I plan to.” I smile. “But first, I have to go meet the other woman.”

“If you need help burying the body, you can call me,” she says, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder.

“I don’t even have your number,” I say with a laugh as I pick my bag up off my chair.

“I know you need to go. I will look your number up in our system right now and text you, so you have it. Good luck.”

“Thank you so much,” I say, appreciating the kindness I see in her eyes. This woman is tough as nails, but supportive too. “I didn’t know I needed this pep talk until I got it.”

“You didn’t need it, but I’m glad it helped anyway.”

I’m just getting in my car when my phone buzzes.

Unknown Number

It’s AJ. Call me if you need anything. And just in case, I have plenty of shovels.

* * *

I see her, sitting at the bar, the minute I walk into the restaurant on Newbury Street. She looks just like she does in her pictures on social media: wholesome and cute, total girl-next-door vibes.

Sophia picked the restaurant, and I wish I’d gotten here before her so I could at least have gotten my bearings and picked our seats—anything to feel a modicum of control in this utterly unpredictable situation.

“Hi,” I say as I approach. I don’t stick out my hand in greeting or smile at her—I’m afraid my hand would be shaking and my smile would falter.

“Hi, Lauren.” Her voice is kind, sympathetic even. I’m sure shedoesfeel bad for me—I’m the idiot who didn’t know my husband was sleeping with anyone else while we were still married.

I hang my bag on the hook under the bar and take a seat next to her as I unwind my scarf.

“I appreciate that you’re open to having this conversation,” I tell her, “but now that I’m here, I really don’t know what to say.”

“Maybe I can start?” she asks.

“Please do,” I say, but then the bartender comes up to take my drink order and chats with us as he fills a glass for me. Once he’s handed over my drink, I gesture for Sophia to go ahead.

“I’m sure Jameson told you that I didn’t know you and Josh were still married, but I just want to say how sorry I am that I believed him and didn’t look into it. I really did break things off theminuteI realized the truth—”

“Wait,what?”

“I broke things off with him the minute I figured out you two were still together. Jameson didn’t tell you that?”

How do I admit to her that I didn’t give him a chance? That he sent his sisters over instead, and they either didn’t know she broke things off with Josh, or forgot to mention it?

“We haven’t been able to really debrief his conversation with you yet. I don’t think I have all the details.”

“Okay,” she says, then hesitates. “Is it all right if I tell you?”

“Yeah, please do. But keep it, you know, surface-level, please.”

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