The Status of All Things

I nod. “Although I still feel bad about that. You were so hormonal that I hated that you made me go there. You were only a few months postpartum.”


She laughs. “It’s fine. I already knew the truth. I just needed to hear it. So what do you need to know?”

“You really think Max and I are good together? That this relationship is worth fighting for?”

“Of course!” Jules says without hesitation.

“Even knowing what you do now—about his feelings for Courtney?” I say. “After it happened, Liam confessed that Max and I had seemed really predictable.” I scrunch up my nose as if the word has its own stench. “Do you think Max was bored?”

“No!” Jules’ hands fly up in front of her face. “I honestly think he just freaked out about the whole ‘rest of your life’ thing!”

“Really?” I push, her opinion holding so much more weight than she knows. If she thinks my relationship with Max is worth saving, then maybe it is. I hadn’t realized the power of that question until I’d heard it squeak from my mouth.

“Absolutely—I know he loves you,” she says, and the burden I’ve been carrying, the part of me that wondered if I had misread my entire life, instantly lifts off my shoulders. “And now you can stop him from leaving again. Do you have any idea how many women would kill for an opportunity like this—to keep their husbands from going down the wrong path? To be able to reconnect before it’s too late?” She looks down, studying her hands, picking at the flour that’s still wedged under her fingernails.

“What about you? Would you fight for Ben? Even if you knew his heart was somewhere else?”

Jules folds and refolds a hand towel next to the sink before responding. “I would—we have a lot of history, and that means something. Plus, it would be a second chance. And this is yours, Kate,” she says, perching on the edge of the countertop. “Sometimes even the best couples lose their way, but that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be together.” She breaks eye contact with me before looking up again, and I wonder if she’s thinking of the fight she’d had with Ben earlier. “Listen, I know you. You’re a problem solver. So I want you to understand this is not about anything being wrong with you.” She shakes her head. “Max stumbled for whatever reason, which happens sometimes, even in the most solid relationships, and she was there at the right time. But that doesn’t make her the right girl.”

I nod, but say nothing—it feels good to hear Jules defend me, to defend what Max and I have together.

I feel my pocket vibrate and frown when I read a message from Courtney.

We still on for drinks tonight at STK?

The baby hairs on my arm stand on end as I consider the timing of her text, and for a split second I forget I’m reliving this day—that she is simply reaching out because she’s confirming our happy-hour date for tonight. That the last thirty days as I know them never happened.

“What is it?” Jules looks over my shoulder to read the screen. “Why the hell would she think you’d have a drink with her? After what she did to you?”

“She doesn’t know I know, remember? It hasn’t happened yet. According to her, we are still girlfriends and coworkers—”

“—and apparently women vying for the same man!” Jules interjects.

“Yes, that too—thanks for the reminder.” I smile to let her know I’m being sarcastic. “And we’re supposed to go to happy hour with Max tonight.”

“Can you do that? Can you pretend not to know what they did or are going to do to you? You were so cool about it when they became good friends . . .”

“What?” I press, the rest of her sentence hanging in the air like a kite on a breezy day.

Jules shrugs.

“Just say it. I was too trusting, wasn’t I?”

“No! I was just thinking that it’s enviable you were able to be like that. Most women would be jealous.” She stops midsentence, thinking for a moment. “You know, even Ben got a little weird about Liam in the beginning. I’m not sure if I ever told you that. I laughed so hard when he brought it up because it was Liam. Liam! I could never imagine . . .” Jules doesn’t finish her thought, but she doesn’t need to. The way she rapidly shakes her head at the thought of being intimate with him speaks volumes.

Liz Fenton , Lisa Steinke's books