Like an Arctic chill, a tingle swooped Jess from head to toe. The mugs slipped from her numb fingers, hitting the floor and shattering. A tiny part of her brain prompted her to pick up the scattered shards but her body refused to move a muscle. Her mind scrambled frantically to the early days after Leo’s birth, when Libby had flown up to Sydney on her own for a quick visit. In anticipation, Jess had written a script just in case Libby caught on to Nick being Leo’s father. But when Libby had gazed down at Jess’s son, all she’d said was, “He’s got your nose! He’s utterly perfect. I’m so happy for you.”

When Jess had moved to the bay, the script was still on hand, but as the weeks and months passed, she’d discarded it as obsolete. Libby didn’t suspect a thing and Jess had done everything she could to keep it that way and protect their friendship.

But now her best friend’s face was contorted in vicious hatred and rage.

“You lying, cheating bitch! You told me you used donor sperm to have Leo.”

“I did.”

“Nick’s not a sperm donor.”

“We share each other’s stuff all the time. I just borrowed a part of him.”

“He’s my husband!” Libby screamed and Jess’s heart galloped. She scrambled to remember the words and phrases she’d worked so hard to develop in case this situation ever eventuated. Words that would make Libby understand that this was just another facet of their very close friendship.

“I know it’s a shock, but you have to know I’d never deliberately hurt you.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Libby’s hand hit the table. “You’ve been having sex with my husband!”

“That’s no—”

“What would you call it then? An accident? His dick just happened to slide inside you and knock you up?”

“I’m just trying to give you some context—”

“There is no context! There’s no possible excuse for my best friend to sleep with my husband.”

Jess’s calm snapped. “This isn’t all on me, Libby. Nick’s involved too.”

Libby made a strangled sound—half cry, half scream. “But you didn’t say no. You were supposed to say no. Take the moral high ground. Tell him that friends don’t betray each other.”

The beat of an old betrayal resumed its tempo. “I’d already slept with you so I was just evening the score.”

“Oh my God! How can you possibly think that a drunken experiment at twenty equates to this—this—treachery. You had sex with my husband!”

Libby’s constant use of “my husband,” as if she owned Nick, slithered along Jess’s veins like a snake ready to strike. “I had sex with my friend. A man I’ve known a lot longer than you.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to sleep with him!”

“Why not? It’s called friends with benefits. We’d been having sex long before you and Nick ever did.”