“You’re sweet for offering, but I really am fine.” She turns to face me, taking a sip of a drink that has about a shot too much of vodka for it to do anything but burn her esophagus. Her full lips are painted the most gorgeous shade of red, her eyes are flawlessly lined, and her highlighter makes her look like a glittering angel. She is perfection.

But the highlighter also shows off the hollowness in her cheeks that wasn’t there a few weeks ago and the eyeliner points out the sadness in her eyes. Her lipstick shows a smile that was painted on for show.

Even her crystal-covered sweater falls off her shoulder in a way that is not for fashion but because of weight I don’t think she was intending to lose. But all I can do is offer to be there, I don’t want to push her if she’s not ready.

“Okay, if you’re sure.” I grab my glass off the table and turn to go join her boys out in their seats.

“It’s just that . . .” she starts and stops just as fast.

I change direction. Instead of opening the glass door to join the masses as we wait to see our favorite team take the field, I move to the long leather couch inside the box.

I fall onto the surprisingly plush couch not saying a word. I take a small sip of my drink and keep my eyes locked with Vonnie’s.

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath as she lifts her glass to her lips. Her feet look like they’re coated in cement with how slow and hesitant her steps are. But her eyes contradict her movements. They might be red and glossed over from the tears she’s been trying so hard to fight back, but the determined glint in them outshines everything else.

“My life has gone up in flames,” she says as she takes a seat beside me on the couch. “I don’t know how it happened or when it even began to change, but now things are so bad and I’m so overwhelmed with it all, that I don’t even know if I can fix it.”

My heart breaks for her as I see the carefully constructed facade she built crumble right in front of me.

I place my drink on the table next to the couch and grab her hand. “What’s going on? What’s so bad?”

“My mar-marriage.” She chokes on the word and I know this is the first time she’s given a voice to what she’s been feeling. “I don’t think we’re going to make it. I don’t even know who Justin is anymore and I’m pretty sure he hates me.”