“Everyone?” Augusta balked. “I feel like we already know enough about each other. Caroline Lash aired our dirty laundry.”
“Yeah, this is too much,” Fran agreed.
“No, let’s do it,” said Colin suddenly. “Let’s get it all out there.”
And so they did. RJ opened his phone and they passed it around, his hidden photo folder full of underwear models and brunettes in swimsuits. Fran rolled her eyes good-naturedly.
Bailey went next, hers a series of naked selfies, both pregnant and not, and the guys glanced at them only briefly before passing the phone along, careful not to be overly weird and pervy.
Augusta’s were boring, all photos of her forehead before and after using her red light facemask, and Colin’s were even less exciting, banking screengrabs and 401(k) passwords. “What did you think I’d have on there?” Colin looked up mischievously and Bailey let out a surprised laugh and then covered her mouth.
Van went next and Bailey waited curiously for the phone to get to her. Would Van have pictures of Caroline? Pictures of her? Instead, the photos were close-ups of skin, torsos, and legs, all too close to discern even real shapes or the owner. “Who the fuck is this, Vanny? This is the weirdest bunch of nudes I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, they’re me,” Van admitted, embarrassed. “My dermatologist has me keeping track of my moles to make sure none of them are cancerous. So I keep them hidden.”
Bailey cackled. It was the most Van thing of all time. Even his darkest secrets were dorky and kind of great.
“Okay, last but not least, Fran.” RJ held out his hand for her phone.
“I’m going to pass.”
“No way!” Bailey cried. “I showed everyone my nudes!”
“Skip me. I’ll do something else.” Fran shook her head.
“You can just show me,” RJ wheedled. He took the phone from Fran, tapped through to her hidden folder, and then held it to her face to open. As he flicked through the pictures he frowned, and Fran watched him silently. “Whoisthis guy?” he asked, and Bailey realized she’d made a terrible mistake.
Nineteen
Fran
Horse
Fran could have lied. She could have told RJ she didn’t know how the hidden folder worked, that Cal was just some friend from work, that she hit the wrong button trying to save the pictures to the cloud. But she didn’t. They got in the car and as RJ drove, she told him the truth.
“Are you having an affair?” he asked, looking hard at the road.
“No,” Fran said quietly. “I met him at the conference in Hawaii. We hung out in the evenings and became friends. We never hooked up or kissed or anything. But it was still something.”
“Like an emotional affair?”
“We fell asleep in the same bed on the last night. We were drunk and watching a movie. I haven’t spoken to him since.”
“Oh.” RJ looked relieved.
“But it shook me, RJ. I feel guilty—really guilty—but spending time with Cal made me realize I’m not happy with our life.”
“You’re not happy withour life?” RJ repeated.
“I don’t think I am,” said Fran carefully.
“Fuck, Fran. You spend a couple days on a tropical island and discover that vacation is more fun than normal life? I mean, of course it is.”
“It’s not that, RJ. It’s us. Do you realize how much I’ve had to change since we met? Do you realize how much adult shit I do all the time now?”
“Same, Fran. I run a business. I’m a father.”
“And you smoke weed at work and you get high to play with the kids and you do the absolute bare minimum until it’s my turn to parent and then I get to do all the boring and un-fun stuff like…like…take them to the doctor or sign them up for speech therapy or cut their toenails. Have youevercut their toenails?” Fran found herself getting angry.