I knew that name. Indeed, I knew a lot about Connor Moss. I’d Facebook-stalked him after my office millennial helped me figure out who the hell he was. I’d gone by the restaurant where he worked, hoping to get a glimpse of the piece of shit. I even went to lunch there, but I missed him. I never even saw him. After a few days of being pissed off, I let it go. I’d been messing around with Carrie. I had no right to call Sophie out on it. And then things got better.

“What do you want?” I asked.

“I want your wife to stop fucking my husband.”

I didn’t even flinch at this. I’d seen the emails between Sophie and her lover by then. I knew that things were bad between Sophie and me. I deliberately chose to ride it out. This woman in front of me was taking a different, more direct, approach.

“It works both ways, Kristen.”

She clasped her hands as if to steady herself. She’d been undone by the affair, less able to put up with it than I was. That was probably because Kristen Moss was a far better person than I ever could be.

“My situation is complicated,” she told me. “I have things to do that require Connor in my life at the moment.”

“Sounds ominous.”

“Just personal,” she said.

Affairs are very personal, I thought.

“But what these two are doing has to stop,” she went on, the anger in her eyes flashing. “Have you told her?”

I didn’t want a scene on my front steps, but I didn’t want to invite trouble into my house.

Like Sophie did when she had sex with this intruder’s husband.

I shook my head. “I don’t exactly have clean hands myself.”

She let out a huge sigh. I was only glad that it wasn’t a scream. She looked that frustrated and angry.

“Great,” she finally said. “What’s wrong with everybody these days? God help me. I can’t deal with this now. Not with all that I have going on.”

I didn’t ask her to elaborate, because I really didn’t care. I knew that if I went to Sophie, she’d toss the possibility of an affair with Carrie LaCroix in my face, and I’d have to deny and lie. We just didn’t talk about it because we didn’t like lying to each other. Who does?

“I wish they’d get in a car crash or something. The both of them,” she said, testing me. “I bet you’d get over her in a New York minute.”

I started to ease the door closed. “I don’t want to hear this kind of bullshit,” I told her. “You need to leave now, Kristen. Do whatever you want to do with your husband, but keep my wife out of it.”