“That wasn’t actually so perfect.”

“Right.”

Julia’s still looking at me. Sympathy still in her eyes. In the slight curve of her brow.

She is still here.

“So why the struggle to forgive yourself then for walking away?” Julia asks. “If you were unhappy and you knew that you and Cameron didn’t want the same things? If you knew that being shallow and fake was…well, shallow and fake and wrong?”

I spear a hand through my hair. Let out another breath.

“I can’t help but feel that I shouldn’t have married her in the first place. I should’ve known better. I should’ve seen the signs for what they were. Why did I make that choice? I’m so methodical in all I do. I’ve been trained to consider every outcome. Look at things from every angle. How did I not see that I wasn’t head over heels in love with the woman I promised my life to? I lied to her, Julia. Lied to our families and to myself.”

She swipes her thumb across the back of my palm. “You said it yourself. You were blinded by the gorgeousness of it all. By your need to be the perfect son with the perfect, beautiful life. Why you did what you did—it makes terrible sense, Grey. And you made a terrible mistake that hurt people you cared about.”

“Yup,” I say, my throat swelling. “Cameron was devastated. So were my parents. I couldn’t forgive myself for hurting them so deeply. Julia, I have never, ever felt so awful in my life. And I was once awake for seventy-two hours straight when I was put on a deal back in my banking days. While I had the flu. And pink eye. I was surrounded by a perimeter of trashcans I’d puke into between working on decks.”

Julia laughs. “Bet your co-workers loved you.”

“They hated me. I gave all of them the flu and pink eye.”

“You really do destroy everything you touch.”

“Whoa whoa whoa.” I hold up my hands—one of hers, too, still clasped in mine—in mock consternation. “I’m pouring my shriveled black heart out to you, and you’re gonna hit me below the belt? You play dirty.”

Julia levels me with this saucy, simmering look. “You like it dirty.”

“Well, yeah. But so do you.”

“And I’m damn proud of it.” She tilts her head. “So. Why you felt the way you have about your divorce is totally valid. You made a big mistake. But you also learned a big, important lesson. You learned to tell the truth, even when it hurts. That takes courage.”

“I wasn’t courageous. I was tired. And lonely.”

“Of course you were tired. But you were also brave, Grey. And when you’re brave like that, you’re inevitably going to hurt people. By telling the truth, your truth, you’re going to hurt them. But telling your truth, and living it, is always the right thing. Maybe it sucks. Maybe it complicates things beyond repair. Keeping it in, though? Smothering who you truly are to fit into some Instagram-sized box of what passes for happiness? That’s much worse. You’re not a liar. You’re honest and brave, and I adore you because you did the hard thing when it would have been so much easier just to keep quiet. Keep pretending that everything was perfect. That’s how tragedies happen—tragedies like spending the rest of your life pretending to be someone you aren’t.”