She sighs. “About that . . . I’m not sure if you’re aware, what with how quickly everything’s been happening, but as your best friend, I’m woefully under-informed here. Would you like to back up to the part where you broke up with George, or go even further than that and explain your history with Easton?”

“George. I guess.”

“Okay. So you told your mom you weren’t going to see each other anymore, but what happened exactly? What was with the ring?”

“He said the ring was a family heirloom he was taking to the bank.” I press the back of my hand to my mouth as another wave of nausea hits. “But it turns out he’s a liar, so who really knows?”

She nods slowly. I’m so grateful that she’s not freaking out on me about all this. “So George is a liar. This is a good reason for a breakup.”

“That’s just it. I didn’t even know the truth when I broke it off with him. Everything’s too complicated right now, and there are so many variables. I wasn’t sure I wanted George to be one of them.” I groan. I’m annoying myself. “And he was kind of pissing me off by implying any future that didn’t involve an academic position would be an immature choice.”

Teagan sinks to the floor and leans against the cabinet. “What a dick.”

“That’s not even all. There’s also the part where Easton heard George talking to someone on the phone and calling her Buttercup, and then George was kissing me and called me that, which he’s never done before.”

“You think he was cheating?”

“It’s worse than that,” I whisper. “He was cheating, but not on me. With me.”

She grunts. “Well, who gets to decide that if neither of you knew about the other?”

“No, Tea. I’m the other woman. George is married.”

“Wow.” She wraps her arms around her knees. “I think you’re more mature than I am. I’d probably be in jail by now.”

“I need to tell her he was sleeping with me.” I draw in a breath. “It’s the only way I can forgive myself for being involved with a married man.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You had no way of knowing.”

Intellectually, I know she’s right. This isn’t my fault. But when it comes to marriage and families, I’ve always believed everyone is culpable. “I hate him. We weren’t even using condoms. If he’s really sleeping around, God knows what he could’ve given me.”

Her eyes go wide. “You weren’t using condoms?”

“I’m on the pill, and he said he’d been tested. I thought the whole not-planning-to-fuck-anyone-else part was implied.”