Chapter 2

Luke set the flowers on the dresser.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “You pack a suitcase over a bed frame?”

“I already told you this isn’t about the bed.”

“Then what is it about?”

I looked at him. “I didn’t accuse you of sleeping with her. I accused you of choosing her.”

“I helped a friend.”

“On your wife’s birthday.”

“Megan just moved back. She’s going through a divorce. She doesn’t have anyone here.”

“She has you.”

His jaw tightened. “You’ve known we were friends since before you and I got married.”

“I knew you were friends. I didn’t know she could call and take you out of any room I was waiting in.”

“I came home, Sarah.”

“After you finished helping her.”

His phone rang.

Megan’s name lit the screen.

Luke looked at it, then at me. He declined the call and placed the phone facedown on the dresser.

“I’m not answering.”

He waited, as if I should be impressed.

“See?” he said. “I’m here with you.”

“You’re choosing me after spending my birthday with her.”

“I left her place.”

“Coming home after you finished with her isn’t choosing me.”

The doorbell rang.

Neither of us moved.

It rang again.

Luke walked downstairs. I followed him, already knowing who would be outside.

Megan stood on the porch holding Luke’s wallet and a faded gray varsity jacket.

Her blond hair was tied in a loose ponytail. She wore jeans, sneakers, and no coat despite the cold, as though she had rushed over the moment he stopped answering.

“You left these at my place,” she said. “Then you stopped answering, so I wanted to make sure you got home.”

Her eyes moved past Luke and found me.

Then she noticed the open suitcase upstairs.

“Oh God.” Her face changed immediately. “This isn’t because of me, is it?”

Luke stepped aside and let her in.

He didn’t look at me first. He didn’t ask whether I wanted her in our home.

He simply made room.

“I told you I could finish the bed myself,” Megan said. “You’re the one who insisted on staying.”

“You were holding the instructions upside down,” Luke said.

She laughed. “That sounds like me.”

Luke almost smiled.

Megan held up the old jacket. “I found this in a box at Mom’s house. I brought it over to show Luke tonight. He left it behind with his wallet.”

“You still had his high school jacket?” I asked.

“I forgot it was there.” She shrugged. “Luke and I have always passed things back and forth. We’ve been like that since we were kids.”

She placed the jacket over her arm.

“I’m basically one of the guys,” she continued. “We help each other. We don’t make things complicated.”

The word landed exactly where she wanted it to.

Megan was easy. Megan drank beer from the bottle and laughed when men disappointed her. I was the difficult wife who expected her husband to keep a promise.

“I didn’t know he hadn’t told you,” she said.

“You knew it was my birthday.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I knew it was sometime this week.”

“You commented on my birthday post this morning.”

The room went quiet.

Megan recovered quickly. “I guess birthdays mean more to some people than others. I’ve never cared about making a big production out of mine.”

“It was dinner, not a parade.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

She looked down. “I should go.”

But she didn’t move toward the door.

She looked at Luke.

“Megan, you don’t have to leave,” he said.

I stared at him.

My suitcase was open upstairs, but he was worried about making her feel unwelcome.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.”

Luke turned to me. “She came all this way to return my things.”

“And now you’re protecting her feelings.”

“I never asked him to choose me,” Megan said quietly.

“You never had to. You only had to call.”

Her face fell.

“Don’t attack her,” Luke said. “None of this is her fault.”

“Why are you protecting her from my words when you never protected me from her actions?”

Luke looked away.

Megan picked up the varsity jacket.

Something slipped from the pocket and landed near my feet.

It was an old photograph.

Luke looked about eighteen, dressed in his football uniform. Megan stood beneath his arm, wearing the same gray jacket.

He wasn’t smiling at the camera.

He was smiling at her.

Across the bottom, someone had written one word in blue ink.

Forever.

I picked up the photograph and turned it over.

There was a date in Luke’s handwriting, followed by a small heart.

Megan gave a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe that was still in the pocket.”

I looked at my husband.

“Why did you keep this?”