Robin’s wordless gaze hit harder than any emotional shitstorm I could imagine. I stood up and the swing rocked behind me. I was ready to be screamed at, slapped, kicked off her property. Yet Robin sat there in shocked silence. Her eyes watered, a tear slid down her cheek, falling from the edge of her jaw. She felt so distant from me, then the elastic snap of full comprehension brought her back. When she spoke, her voice was choked and raspy.

“So you were the girl—the one he told me about. Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”

“He told you?”

She nodded, barely visible in the shadow. She sniffled. I had made my friend cry on the inside—the worst kind of grief. The grief you couldn’t show.

“Are you guys fixable?”

“We’ll see. I want to be. I feel like I should be hating Grant . . . hating you. But I’m just . . . numb.”

“I’m so sorry.” Now I was crying, sobs from my belly shaking my whole body. “I’ll miss you so much, you have no idea.”

The hole in my heart widened, so much I thought I’d be swallowed up inside it. I hated good-byes, and this would be the last time I’d see Robin. Gazing out upon the black night, a reel of memories unfurled. The time we went skinny-dipping at Myrtle Beach during spring break. The ski trip to Seven Springs where Mackenzie accidentally went down a black diamond slope and nearly killed herself. The San Luis orphanage where we built a playground for the kids one summer after sophomore year. The first time Robin got drunk—which was the last time Robin got drunk. Mercilessly teasing Mac by humming “Dueling Banjos” on the road trip to meet her family in the sticks of North Carolina. Each bachelorette party. Each wedding. Each pregnancy announcement and each pregnancy scare. Each baby shower. Each child’s birth. Each and every major event, we shared. And the little ones too. All filed away in the cabinet of my mind, cracked open when I needed a smile. There would be no more new memories. And I wondered if the old ones would ever taste so good again.

We’d been through so much together over the years. But I was doing the right thing, and that’s all that mattered. I’d grieve the loss of my friendship, let the guilt of what I’d done make me a better person, then move on. I had spent too long mourning what I didn’t have; it was time to start living instead. I just hoped that Robin and Grant could do the same.