“Not know you were there? How could I not? You wanted dinner every night at seven regardless of how much I had to do or what carpools I had to drive. You had dry-cleaning runs for me, laundry to fold, banking errands. I wasn’t your wife. I was your goddamn assistant.”

“And not a very good one.”

I walk away then. I should have walked away sooner. Legs shaking, I climb into the wooden stands, sink slowly onto the nearest bleacher, and fight tears.

I hate him. I hate him so much. I hate what he’s done to me, to us, to the memory of us. I hate that he’s so superior and righteous and I’m so wrong. I hate that he’s turned me into this angry, brittle woman. I hate that he’s taken the love I felt and broken it into pieces, mashing it beneath his heel on his way out.

Because he can say what he wants to say, but I did love him.

I did.

I loved him so much that I gave him my heart and my mind, my body and my life. I wanted him to be the father of my kids. I wanted him to grow old with me and be with me through thick and thin. I wanted the American dream, and he was part of it.

William’s team wins, and Daniel takes the kids after the game for a celebratory dinner. He calls later to say they’re going to stay the night. “We’re going to go see the new Disney movie!” Jessica shouts into the phone.

“Great.” I’ll just sit home. Alone.

But after they hang up, I know I can’t be alone tonight. I’m feeling caged, trapped. Isolated. It’s probably just the intense workweek, and the fights with Daniel don’t help.

I get on the phone, call Anne to see what she’s doing tonight, but they have concert tickets with another couple. It’s Nic’s gourmet dinner club tonight. Kris and her husband have Sonics tickets.

It’s not until I hang up that I realize Anne’s right about one thing. On a Saturday night, I need different friends. I need single friends, and at my age, single friends are all divorcées.

My God. I draw a deep breath and hold it. I’m going to have to make new friends.

Kai calls me the next morning before the kids are dropped off. I’m sitting in the middle of my bed, leafing through the most recent issues of Architectural Digest and Veranda while having a second cup of coffee.

“What are the Laurenses doing?” he asks. “Heading to church, or going to brunch at the country club?”

I flip AD closed and roll over onto my back. I lift a foot, examine my toenails. I need a pedicure. “The kids are with their dad, and I’m looking at magazines in bed.”