“Hold up,” he says as he jogs alongside her. “Are you a friend of Gwen Khoury’s? What about Lisa Greco-King? Did you know her?”
Aimee stares ahead, ignoring him until she can get safely into her truck. She starts the engine. Was she a friend of Gwen’s?Did she know Lisa?Good questions, she thinks. Ones she’ll be mulling over for a long time to come. She pulls the truck out, pausing for the stop sign at the end of the block.
Aimee looks in the rearview mirror. She can almost see them all—her and Scott, Lisa and Marcus, Anton and Gwen—seated on lawn chairs, watching the kids ride their bikes, drinking around a firepit on Halloween. It all seemed almost perfect at the time. Was it better then, when she was happy but clueless?
Yes. She would trade in the knowledge she has now to go back to those times.
But she can’t. None of them can. Gwen and Marcus will have to rebuild their lives without their cheating spouses. Kai lost his mom, and Rafi and George lost their dad. And whatever the future holds for her and her own kids, it won’t happen here.
She steps on the truck’s accelerator, takes a hard right, and says goodbye to Nassau Court.
THE END
A YEAR LATER
Marcus comes into the room and offers me a mojito with fresh mint from the garden and garnished with a lime from a tree in our yard.
“Thanks, babe.” I take the drink from him and aim the remote at the TV. “I kind of want to play it again.”
Marcus laughs. “Twice wasn’t enough? Anyway, aren’t you meeting Aimee in South Beach?”
“No, I changed my mind. We’re meeting at La Mar. I want to show her the best of what Miami has to offer. But you’re right. I should go shower.” I take a big sip of the drink and kiss Marcus deeply. “It went well, though, didn’t it? I mean, I seemed sympathetic, right?”
“It rocked. You sounded great, and you looked hot.”
My eyes shift past him to the azure waters of Biscayne Bay.Greatandhotwere not adjectives Anton would ever have used for me. If he had seen my interview onDateline, if he had read my book, he would have offered hours’ worth of analysis. Is it weird that I wish my dead husband could read the book I wrote about his murder, so we might have an intelligent discussion? No, I don’t think so. We always want what we don’t have.
I take my drink up the floating staircase to the main bedroom. The house I share with Marcus is huge, big enough for all three kids to have their separate spaces, although Rafi and George still insist on sharing a room. Anton’s life insurance paid for it, and thanks to my book’s success, and the speaking fees I can command, I won’t ever have to work in a PR firm again.
Some might think it’s gross that Marcus and I are together.But spouse swapping is not as odd as it sounds. It happens sometimes when couples socialize a lot together—they fall for each other’s others. It’s a story as old as time. There was that Canadian country singer, Shania Twain. When she found out her husband was cheating on her with her best friend, Shania ended up marrying the other woman’s husband.
“I am actually grateful for what I’ve gone through and wouldn’t change a thing,” she wrote in her autobiographyFrom This Moment On.
“We slowly became very, very good friends,” she had told a talk show host about her new husband. “We had many months of just trying to make sense of everything.”
You could sort of say the same thing about Marcus and me. We were both stunned and devastated by Lisa and Anton cheating on us. At least something good has come out of the whole debacle. He really is my rock, in a way that Anton never was.
And now, I am finally getting to see my best friend for the first time in almost a year. My favorite person.
When I arrive, Aimee is already seated at an outdoor table overlooking the water and the sun setting over the Miami skyline. I would be able to spot her a mile away. With her slightly frizzy brown curls, her freckled skin, and blue cotton shirtdress, she stands out among the deeply tanned and the scantily clad.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, and she jumps up when I get close. She gives me a hug and then pulls back, holding me at arm’s distance to examine me.
“My gosh, Gwen, you look ten years younger.”
“Do I? It’s living by the water, I swear.” I sit down. It’s being free, is what I really mean. Not under Anton’s spell, not under my mother’s thumb. That and a few units of Botox.
“I’m so glad you came down,” I say. “I wasn’t sure if you really would.”
“Of course. It’s been way too long. I’ve been meaning to come earlier, but I’m here now.”
The waitress comes by, a slinky feline of a girl in a napkin-sized skirt and a tube top.
“Two pisco sours,” I tell her, winking at Aimee. “And let’s start with some conchitas and the cebiche clasico. Thanks!” Once the waitress is gone, I turn my full attention on Aimee. “The food here is to die for. I hope you don’t mind that I’m ordering for us.” I’m already buzzed from the two mojitos that Marcus made earlier, but I’m all nerves. I’ve missed Aimee so much. It’s so much more fun to celebrate your wins with your best friend. But I know the last year has been tough on her, and I’ve tried not to push. I’m hoping that her being here means life is back on track for her.
“So, how are you and Scott doing?”
“We’re taking it slow,” she says. “He still has his own place. The trial starts next month, and he’ll have to fly back to California to testify, of course. The kids love living near the Chesapeake Bay. And Noa is thriving in her new school. They are so good at supporting neurodivergent kids.”