Page 99 of Not You Again

Heidi gives me a furry pillow to hold, pours me a glass of water, then wedges off my heels, tossing them aside. After scooting a box of tissues closer to me, she takes her seat in the other armchair, primly crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.

I don’t want to guess how many times she’s had to do this—calm the hysterical woman who showed up at her door—but she’s probably the best at it, just like she is with everything else she does.

“So,” she says quietly, calmly. “Decision day.”

I nod, squeezing my furry pillow tightly to my chest.

“What happened?” Heidi asks, not a hint of judgment in her voice. She’d probably make a great therapist.

I swallow, then croak, “He didn’t even let me answer.”

Heidi studies me for a moment, then asks gently, “What was the question?”

“If I wanted to stay married to him.” I grab a wad of tissues with a clumsy fist. “I was going to say yes. I was going to tell him I wanted to try, because I—” I shake my head, a new wave of tears letting loose. “I love him. I wasn’t supposed to love him.”

“I take it his answer wasn’t what you wanted to hear.”

I crumple in my chair, bending forward at the waist, wishing I could sink into the upholstery and never return. “He wants to divorce, and it’s not like last time but it hurts, and I don’t know what to do. I’m so stupid.”

Heidi tilts her head while I catch my breath through a round of sobs. When I pause to wipe the snot away from my nose, she says, “You’re not stupid.”

I sigh, slouching over the pillow still protectively clutched to my stomach. “I already loved and lost him once, and I thought somehow it would be easier this time. How is that not the dumbest thing you ever heard?”

Heidi doesn’t flinch. She simply watches me shred a tissue. When I think the silence will stretch on forever, she picks up her cell phone. Her voice falls into a comfortable murmur as my pulse pounds in my head. “Kimber? Yeah. Will you order from that place on Third, the one with that lemon butter chicken? Order enough for an army, and get something for yourself, too.”

I bow my head, smashing my wet tissues against my face, as a new wave of humiliation crashes over my head.

Before this stupid show and this sham of a marriage, I always prided myself on my ability to keep going. To push through when things were hard. And to do it on my own.

Then Kit showed up with that disarming smile and his pet names and his insistent need to help. Letting him in was so natural. His touch lit me up, and he sent me lunch every day because he always said I couldn’t create if I wasn’t fed. He coaxed me into bed at a decent hour more nights than I care to admit.

Here Heidi was, canceling her day for me, ordering us food, and settling in for the long haul. The pride I had in never needing anyone’s help was a house of cards. Staring at the wreckage, I’ve never felt so powerless.

“Am I really that much of a mess?” I ask as she sets her phone aside. “That everyone has to take care of me, or I’ll spiral into nothingness?”

“Honey, no,” Heidi says with a frown. Her brow wrinkles with concern as she begins pulling pins from her smooth French twist. “You just lived through eight weeks of being on all the goddamn time only for him to stomp on your heart and drag it through that perfectly manicured country club grass.”

“That’s a visual,” I mumble as I take a sip of water.

Heidi kicks off her shoes and shakes out of her sharp blazer. “Now.” She tucks her feet under her on the chair. “Tell me everything.”

I spend the next hour spilling my guts to my best friend. Heidi gasps in all the right places as I reveal how we faked it for the cameras. Until it wasn’t fake anymore. The food arrives just as I finish telling her about the fight I had with him a few days ago in the hospital hallway.

Heidi moves the sample books off the coffee table so we can use it to eat. We’re quiet while we break open the to-go boxes. Heidi wanders over to the fancy file cabinet she has in the corner. It’s got a hidden mini-fridge we’ve enjoyed a bubbly water from, from time to time. She comes back with a bottle of vodka, glass frosted over from the cold.

She shrugs as she sits on the floor next to the coffee table. “Desperate times.”

I give her a fraction of a smile. It’s all I can muster.

After we shove a few bites of food into our mouths, she asks, “You made him pocket squares?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal. I had the fabric lying around and he needed them, so I whipped some together.”

Heidi nods, making a noise I can only describe as sarcastic, if that’s possible.

“What?” I mumble around a piece of chicken.

Heidi stabs at a stack of lettuce drenched in chipotle ranch and shrugs. “I’ve been friends with you for years, and I’ve never so much as gotten a handmade handkerchief from you.”