“Thank you, Andrea.” I tried not to roll my eyes. “That’s what I really need to hear right now. You know what? Say it again so I can feel even better.”
She pulled me into her arms and hugged me tightly. “I’m only saying it because...I never really liked Ryan, Claire. I’ve always thought that you could do better—so much better...I’m not happy at all about what happened to you, and if I could kill them both and get away with it I would.” Her voice cracked. “I’ve just been trying to change your mind about moving but...Keep yourself safe in San Francisco, okay? I want you to find someone who actually deserves you.”
I nodded and slowly let myself out of her embrace. I tried to hand her the two thousand dollar check she’d given me earlier, but she refused to take it and walked away—crying.
I forced a lump down my throat and slipped into my Audi Q7 with my daughters, heading straight for the highway, for my new life.
“You had to see the signs, Claire...You had to see the signs...”
I hadn’t. I really hadn’t.
How could I when Ryan was so f**king wonderful? So f**king perfect.
And Amanda was—she was my best friend.
I drove down the interstate and flipped through all my memories—birthdays, get-togethers, anniversaries—and in every last one the two of them were right by my side as always. I thought back to more recent memories as I crossed over the state line, and then a couple ones started to stick out—a couple ones that I would have never second guessed before...
Three months ago...
“Death by falling off a building or drowning in the ocean?” I threw a peanut M&M at Ryan.
“Falling off a building.”
“What? Why?”
“It would be an instant death once my body hit the concrete. Drowning takes way too long. Plus, there’s no guarantee my body would be found if I died in the ocean. I want my body to be in the casket after I die.”
I nodded at his logic and looked up at the bright, blue sky.
We were sitting in the grass at Frick Park, enjoying a small breakfast picnic together. We’d been coming to this park once a month ever since we were in high school, ever since he admitted that he was in love with me and wanted to marry me someday.
“Okay, wait.” I looked over at him again. “I have another one: Which is worse? An emotional affair or a physical affair?”
He paused before answering, then he looked into my eyes. “Emotional. It’s easier to cut off sex. Feelings never go away—no matter how hard you try to bury them...”
“That makes perfect sense...So, let’s say your wife is having an affair. Would you rather it be with a stranger or with your best friend?”
“What?”
“Would you rather lose your wife to a stranger or to your best friend?” I threw another M&M at him.
“Jesus, Claire. What type of question is that?”
“You’ve asked me much worse before.” I shuddered, thinking about the time he’d asked me whether I’d rather have sex in front of twenty people or get gangbanged by three guys in private.
He looked out over the lake and sighed. “Neither.”
“You can’t choose neither.” I shook my head. “That’s one of your rules, remember? Pick.”
“I guess I would pick the stranger...Yeah...The stranger.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say? You usually have an entire reasoning behind your pick. Give me the logic.”
“Well I guess it would...It would hurt either way, I just...” His voice trailed off. “With the stranger I wouldn’t have to worry about feeling as betrayed...Whereas, if I lost you to my best friend I—I’m not sure how I would ever deal with that or if I would ever get over it. It’d be the worst thing my best friend could possibly do...”
“I one-hundred-percent-agree.” I pulled him down onto our blanket and kissed his lips. “You know what I was thinking the other day?”
“Tell me.”
“We never got the chance to have a real wedding...”
“What do you mean?”
I sighed and remembered how poor we were when we decided to tie the knot, how I’d had to buy my wedding dress from the neighborhood thrift store and beg my mom to make all the alterations.
We didn’t even have enough money to rent a venue, and since our church was undergoing renovations, we decided to have it in his mother’s backyard. Don’t get me wrong, that was the happiest day of my life and our moms decorated the hell out of that backyard—so much so that it almost looked like it belonged in a magazine, but it wasn’t everything I wanted it to be.
“Wouldn’t it be great if for our fifteenth anniversary we renewed our vows at an actual ceremony?” I asked. “Well, wait. It would probably have to be five or six months after our anniversary.”
“Why is that?”
“Because of Amanda. She’ll have delivered her baby and I would want her to be my maid of honor again—with a real dress and flowers this time.”
He mumbled something that I couldn’t hear.