Why’s Will insisting so much on this topic? What’s he playing at? Why does he keep asking Jake about his once-was-wife-to-be? As if she wasn’t enough of a skeleton in our closet already. I know Jake doesn’t have any regrets, but the less he thinks about Sharon and what we did to her, the better.

“Will, maybe Jake doesn’t want to discuss this particular topic over dinner,” Amelia chides her husband.

“No, it’s okay,” Jake says. “I guess it was the elephant in the room.” I love him so much for how he owns the situation. “And to answer your question, I didn’t have much time to feel the pressure. It was a split second decision. I knew what I should do, what I wanted to do, and I did it.”

“T-that’s admirable,” William says. Then he grabs his glass of wine and downs it.

The awkwardness at the table has spiked to new heights.

“Well,” Amelia says, looking mortified. “It’s time to serve the main course.” She gets up and starts collecting our empty salad plates.

“I’ll help you,” I say. I take my and Jake’s plates and follow her into the kitchen. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“Is everything all right?” I ask.

She stares at the sink for a while before answering. “Yes, and no. Everything seems perfect on the surface. But deep down, something’s wrong.”

“Is it William?”

“He’s a big part, but it’s not just him. It’s… not right. It’s hard to explain. It’s like I’ve spent the last year on a wedding planning high. And now that my perfect wedding’s over, my marriage is… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know, as in?”

“Like yesterday, for example, I tried to think about the last real conversation I had with Will. And I can’t remember one that didn’t involve flowers, venues, hors d’oeuvres, or some other wedding-related thing.”

“But what about the honeymoon? Did you guys have a good time?”

“It was… lovely,” Amelia says in a tone between sad and spiteful. “But it wasn’t passionate, or intense, or exciting. It was just mature.”

“Was it you, or was it him?”

“It was the both of us. He didn’t make an effort. And I couldn’t be bothered to make an effort either. I’d rather read beach novels in peace by the pool than make an effort to talk to my husband. And he seemed content looking at his phone all day instead of talking to me. He seems to be attached to the thing these days. He takes it everywhere he goes, even to the bathroom. I might’ve become jealous of his phone.”

“But was this just the honeymoon, or was it also before, after? Maybe you need to relax after all the stress of the wedding.”

Amelia bites her lower lip. I read indecision in her features.