She went back to the party and pretended not to mind that Arwen was making Dave and Edward laugh uproariously, pretended not to see the woman who’d been close-talking with Oliver was at his side again, pretended not to care that Sadie was having a great time with people Juliet had met first but didn’t really know. She endured. For the next four hours, she sucked it up, buttercup. That’s what her life was about these days. Making it through the day until it was acceptable to go to bed.

— —

When the party was finally, finally over and the high school girls had done their best to clean up, and Sloane and Brianna were sound asleep, Oliver poured her a glass of chardonnay (thank God, because the rosé had been utterly insipid). They sat down in the sky room, since the mosquitoes were out in force on the deck.

“Great party, hon,” she lied.

“I didn’t think so.” His voice was uncharacteristically tight.

“What? Why?”

“Where the hell did you go? You were missing for at least a half hour! Kathy was looking for you, and I had no idea where you were. Saanvi and Vikram had to leave without saying goodbye, and I had no cash to pay Riley, and the entire time, I couldn’t find you. What is going on, Juliet?”

If she were a porcupine, all her quills would be up and ready.

“I had to change,” she said.

“Why?”

“I . . . spilled something on my dress.”

“And it took you all that time? You’re lying. Why are you lying to me?”

She pressed her lips together.

Oliver crossed his arms. “For months, you’ve been at bits and pieces, Juliet. Before your father’s stroke, before Sadie came back. You’re hardly here anymore even when you’re sitting right in front of us. You’re constantly distracted, and believe me, I’ve noticed. So have the girls.”

Whatever had been holding her together snapped, and it felt huge and delicious and black. She jolted to her feet, sloshing her wine.

“How dare you, Oliver? How fucking dare you? You’re damn right I’m distracted. I’m fucking terrified. I’ve given everything to everyone, and my everything is a lot, not to blow my own horn. But somehow, that’s never enough.”

He started to speak, but she cut him off. “Do you know how hard I try, Oliver? Do you? You think it’s easy to have my job and work full-time and still be here for the girls and still bake those fucking gluten-free vegan cupcakes and take Brianna to lacrosse and Sloane to violin and work on Sloane’s reading and make sure we have downtime and organize the meal calendar and serve on committees and have sex with you at least twice a week? I have to be at a hundred percent all the time on every front, and it’s fucking hard!”