“What about the plan? Did you decide to just skip it?” We’d been planning it for weeks. The bank account was set up, money transferred, every detail figured out—even Aria wouldn’t miss a beat. If Mac bailed now, she’d never find the nerve to follow through again.

“No, I’m still going to do it. Just not tonight. It’s not the right time.”

“Every day is the right time to leave an abusive spouse, Mac. Think about Aria. It’s not good for her to watch her mamma die a slow death. But it’s your life, not mine. Do what you want.”

“Are you mad at me?” She sounded shocked, but she shouldn’t be, because I had made my feelings about their union clear from the first moment I met Owen more than twenty years ago.

I’d never forget how he used her to pass English 101 for the first four months they knew each other. She was his passing grade; he was her feel-good crutch. I couldn’t blame her for falling too hard and too fast, though. Especially not after what happened to her in the fire. But I knew the truth—Owen used her insecurity against her. He was a jerk back then, and an even bigger jerk now. People don’t change their stripes, and my friend was living proof of this. No matter how many times she vowed to escape him, she never followed through.

“No, I’m not mad at you. I just want better for you and you keep chickening out.” Having lost my motivation, I headed into the bedroom to change out of my workout clothes. I deserved a Friday off to binge-watch Stranger Things and indulge in a bag of Doritos.

“It’s not as easy as you think it is. We have a child together, Lily. For you, cutting Tony loose had no aftermath. For me, I’m setting Aria’s life on fire. Please at least try to understand my position.”

“I am trying to sympathize.” I stepped out of my bike shorts. “It’s just . . . sometimes I think you’re afraid to leave him because you don’t think you can do better.”

“Can I really? You think I can just hit the bar and pick up guys like you do? You try wearing my face for a day and see how confident you are when people gawk at you in public, or kids run away in fear. It’s not easy, let me tell you.”

“Va bene, I get it. I’ll be here when you need me. Now go be a good little lapdog and tend to your overbearing master. I guess I’ll talk to you later.” I spat the words.

“Are you sure you’re not mad at me? Because it sure as hell sounds like it.”

“No, I promise.” Maybe I was a little mad at her as I stomped into a pair of sweatpants.