“They’ll settle down as soon as you leave.”

I snuck a look at his profile, lit by the glow of the dashboard. “They’re probably upset I was gone all day.”

“They’ll get over it.”

I clasped my hands in my lap. “I thought maybe you were upset, too.”

“I don’t like to see you work so hard all the time, that’s all.” He glanced my way. His slow smile warmed me from the inside out. “It’s good for you to get out sometimes.”

An electric pulse flickered inside me, like the tick of the turn signal. “It’s good for us to get out.”

He didn’t say anything. Communication wasn’t our strong suit. But he reached across the console and took my hand, holding it on his thigh all the way to Sallie’s. His hand was warm and firm on mine. The flicker became a current. I felt happy, breathless, and not just because the shapewear was cutting off my air. The white lines on the road beyond our windshield flashed by like we were finally getting somewhere.

Sallie and Ned had bought a house on a golf course in the same gated community as her parents. We drove past lit tennis courts and landscaped ponds, up a long, circular driveway to a parking area filled with Lexuses and Land Rovers, Teslas and Maseratis.

“There’s Trey’s car,” I said.

A valet opened my door. I stepped out, off-balance in my party heels.

John handed the valet the keys and came around, steadying me with a hand on my elbow. He shot a wry glance up the curving double staircase to the front door. “You didn’t tell me your friends lived at Tara.”

“We’ve been here before,” I said.

“You were here,” he said. “For a shower or something.”

A baby shower for Belle, back when John and I were first married. Before I got pregnant. I squeezed John’s arm as we went up the steps. “It does feel a little like a movie set.” Or a magazine spread, the December issue of Architectural Digest, maybe, or Southern Living, white lights everywhere, twining on the crepe myrtles in the yard, glowing in the windows, twinkling along the path to the boat dock. Full-size Christmas trees, decked in more lights and red ribbon, framed the open door and the people milling around inside.

“Thanks for buying the tree today,” I said to John.

He shrugged, handsome and uncomfortable in a navy blazer and tie. “One tree. Big deal.”

“If I don’t have to do it, it is a big deal.” He slanted a look down at me. I stumbled. “I mean . . .”

“I know what you meant,” he said quietly.

“Meg, you came. How nice.” Belle, materializing out of the glittering crowd in the foyer, wore wide-legged silk pants and a very sheer top. Obviously she didn’t need shapewear. Or a bra, apparently. “And you must be Jim.”

“John.”

“Of course. Welcome.”