“If I knew it’d stay clean, I would.”

But that was the nature of motherhood. Dirty and selfless. Unsung heroism as they tended to real life in the background while their husbands wore scrubs and suits to work, building their careers while the mothers built their homes.

The women wore fake smiles, hiding their secrets like they did every day. On their own they were bitterness, submission, and obsession. Together they were loyal, inspired, and fierce. But there were some things out there that could break the strongest of bonds. And that something had found them today.

“Are we still on for dinner Sunday night?” Mackenzie asked. “The kids always have a blast at your dinner parties.”

Robin nodded, rocking back and forth in her seat as Collette fussed herself awake. “Of course. Grant’s even cooking on the grill. He told me it’s a meal that will change our lives, whatever that means.”

The three women laughed at the great pride Grant took in his grilling techniques, unaware of just how right he was. That night would forever change their lives, splitting their world open and letting the ruthless reality pour out.

1999, PIZZA JOE’S, BEAVER FALLS, PENNSYLVANIA

If you were a teenage girl in the 1990s, you couldn’t escape the girl band sensation the Spice Girls. Maybe you even danced to their pop music, emulated their glam fashion, or fantasized about being them. The Spice Girls had distinct personas; it goes without saying every girl had her favorite. The year was 1999, in a small Western Pennsylvania town hugging the outskirts of Pittsburgh, where three best friends in college formed their own girl group, the Spicier Girls. Except they weren’t exceptionally musical or gifted at synchronized dancing.

Lily was the natural-born leader, the hand-talking Italian, the rebel, the creator. She spoke life into action, and it obeyed. Everyone submitted to Lily because she was a power you didn’t question, and a force you trusted.

Robin was the planner, the organized one, the goody-goody, the glue. Her brilliance was not just in her sharp mind, but in the way she dotingly tended to people like flowers. Gently, lovingly, as if each one would wither and die without her magic touch. And in some cases they did.

And then there was Mackenzie, the sheltered Southern belle of the ball, except she had forgotten her worth long ago. She was the victim who didn’t know she could be the victor. She was always there, the supporting actress in her own life, applauding everyone’s achievements but her own.

They were simply three friends brought together by fate, who lived to be loved by one another, sealed with a pact to stay friends for life . . . a pact that would test their bond for decades to come. They were there for one another through the laughter and tears, and they were there when everything shattered.