But that wasn’t what she’d done. She’d had Nicole in her car for all of two minutes and already she’d been more honest with her than with anyone else in her life. She’d intended to be reserved and indifferent, and instead she’d shown that she was hurt. So much for protecting herself. So much for holding part of herself back. She might as well have ripped off a bandage and said Look at these raw wounds. Because that was how she felt. Like a giant wound. Any protective coating she might have had once had been eroded by Richard and now by Nicole. Love provided insulation from the cuts and bruises of life, and so did trust. Milly had lost both. She was a tortoise without its shell. A hedgehog with no spines.

She sat there, miserably embarrassed, and then Nicole reached out and touched her arm.

“I’ve missed you.”

Milly felt something soften inside her, but she forced herself to ignore it. “Sure. You missed me so much you didn’t get in touch for eighteen months.”

She was so surprised to hear those words coming out of her mouth that she almost turned around to check there was no one else in the car.

Maybe the assertiveness course hadn’t been such a waste of money after all.

Nicole removed her hand from Milly’s arm. “Don’t be angry. I know there are things we need to talk about, but the whole world is angry with me right now. I couldn’t stand it if you were too.”

“Why would the whole world be angry with you?”

“Perhaps angry is the wrong word. I should have said the whole world hates me.” Nicole’s voice shook a little. “I am currently the most hated woman on the planet.”

She’d forgotten how all-or-nothing Nicole was. People either adored her or hated her. She was either devastated or ecstatic. There was nothing in between. No middle ground. To be friends with Nicole meant strapping in for a ride on a roller coaster with its steep ups and downs. She couldn’t handle it. “Please, for once, can we leave the drama at the door?”

“For you it’s drama, but for me it’s my life.”

Milly clamped her jaw shut to stop herself from saying something she might regret. “Nicole—”

“I want you to know that what they’re saying isn’t true. Well, some of it is—but not the way they’ve told it. It’s all twisted.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I’m not sure which is worse—having people make up lies about you, or knowing that people believe those lies without question.”