I growl in the back of my throat. Carefully I lift my decaf latte, sip, and sip again. I’m so close to firing something back at her that will hurt, and I don’t want to hurt her, don’t want to be an ungrateful friend, but she’s got to ease up. I’m not in the mood to be lectured. In fact, I don’t think I’m ever going to be in the mood to be lectured again.

“What do you have against Kai?” I ask as soon as I’m certain I’ve got my temper in check. “You haven’t met him. You don’t know him. You can’t judge him.”

“I’m not judging him—”

“No, you’re judging me.”

“I’m not, honestly, Jack, I’m not. It’s just that we never see you anymore. You’re always on a plane, heading off, having this little romantic escapade, and it doesn’t make sense. It’s not helping you get on with your life.”

“But I’m getting on with my life. I’m dating—”

“You’re not dating. You’re having sex.”

My jaw drops. I snap it close. “Maybe I’d see more of you if you didn’t nag me so much.”

“Nag?”

“Yes. You’re always on me, criticizing, poking, commenting. It’s as if you don’t want me happy. Why? Why can’t I be happy? Is it because no one we know is? Because everyone feels angry? Stuck?”

“We’re not unhappy, and we’re not stuck.”

“Then why is it every time we girls get together we always talk about how impossible our husbands are, how frazzled we are, how much a struggle life is? How come that’s all we talk about, Annie? Why don’t we ever talk about how happy everyone is? Hmmm?”

“Because the happiness you’re talking about is infatuation. It’s escapism. It’s vacation romance. An island fling.”

My jaw hardens. That was another jab at Kai. Another jab at me. God, women can be brutal. “Maybe this thing with Kai isn’t a fling. Maybe it’s not an infatuation, either.”

“Jack.”

“What if I loved him?”

“Jack.”

Abruptly I stand, contemplate grabbing my purse, but I don’t move. Instead I cross my arms and stare down at her defiantly. And I am defiant. I’m furiously defiant. No one has the right to tell me how to live, what to do, the decisions I should make. No one. Not even my best friends.

Anne sighs and, realizing we’re crossing into murky waters, draws a deep breath. She ruffles her thick streaked blond hair so that it tumbles around her face, but there are lines at her eyes, deep lines at her mouth. She’s feeling the strain, too.