“I’ve struggled to forgive myself for breaking the promises I made to a woman whose life I completely leveled.”

“Understandable,” Julia says, nodding. “I think that’s a doozy by any standard.”

“On paper, what Cameron and I had was perfect. Our families were old friends. We grew up in the same neighborhood, moved in the same circles. Both of us had successful careers. From the beginning, everyone loved that we were, well, falling in love. They called us the Barbie and Ken of Charleston.”

Julia’s lips twitch.

“I know, I know, totally gross,” I say, scoffing. “But looking back, I see that I was swept up in it all. The fairy tale. How perfect everything looked from the outside. Now I understand that I was more in love with how happy that story made everyone else—my family especially—than I was with Cameron. I was in love with how it all looked on paper and in pictures.”

“But your parents are so cool. They don’t strike me as the type to be caught up in appearances. Pretty sure they didn’t need you to be the picture perfect son who married the picture perfect girl.”

“I know. My parents are awesome. Authentic. I love them for it. They didn’t put that pressure on me to have, this, like, insanely perfect, insanely accomplished life. I put that pressure on myself. I wanted to be that son for them.”

“Why?”

Lifting a shoulder in a shrug, I say, “Not sure. Maybe I thought that that was the kind of kid they deserved because they gave me every privilege imaginable. Maybe I, you know, wanted to save them from how stressed I remembered them being when I was growing up. They’re pretty chill now. But they were overwhelmed a lot when Ford and I were younger. Like all parents, I imagine.”

“I felt that too with my parents—the stress,” Julia says. “Parenting is hard. As we’re about to find out first-hand.”

I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—we’ll figure it out, Julia. People way less prepared than we are do it every damn day.”

“You’re right.” She gives me a smile. “I mean, I hope we’ll figure it out, anyway.”

A beat of silence passes between us. She’s waiting for me to continue. Patiently.

“It became clear pretty quickly once Cameron and I were married that we wanted different things. We both worked a ton, which didn’t help matters.”

“Who, you? A workaholic?” Julia arches a brow. “Never.”

“You don’t do big things by working a nine to five.”

“I don’t disagree, although I want to challenge you a bit on that later. But I want you to keep telling me about Cameron. You’ve only blown me off, what, twice now?”

I grin. “Third time is a charm.”

“Keep going.”

“Right. Okay. So Cameron very much wanted to live the same life as her parents. Same white picket fence, same friends, same country club. It’s how we both grew up. So I get it. But I began to get really bored doing the same things with the same people all the time. She was obsessed with always going out, always with just the right people at just the right places. It felt superficial. I began to wonder if that was all there really was. I thought it was the life I wanted. But it didn’t…I don’t know, it didn’t feel right. Didn’t feel like me. We grew apart. She wasn’t happy, and neither was I. She still wanted to hold on, though. She really wanted that perfect, beautiful existence we promised everyone. Kids especially. But I knew—deep down I just knew—that was a big mistake.” I let out a breath. “I was the one who called it quits after a year of therapy got us nowhere. I’ve always taken pride in being a workhorse. I make shit work. Literally. But I couldn’t make my marriage work. I couldn’t make myself fall back in love with her. And one day I just woke up and felt tired. I couldn’t do it anymore. So I ended the perfect marriage.”