Finally, my tears subsided, and Nicole gently released me. She wet a paper towel under the faucet and wiped under my eyes.

“Thanks,” I sniffled.

“Jackie, I had no idea you were unhappy.”

“No, Nic, that’s not it—” I started to protest, but Nicole looked at me with such love and sympathy. The darkness was out of her eyes. My breakdown had brought her out of her misery.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Me too,” she said.

INT. JACKIE AND BRETT’S KITCHEN

MORNING

“Pardon me for askin’, but isn’t it about time she found her own place?” Brett muttered. He’d strapped on a pair of yellow rubber gloves and was doing the dishes. He was a far better housekeeper than I could ever be. Arzelda always chortled how neatly he made the bed. The guy was a nut for hospital corners; he folded the sheets around the edges like crafting origami.

“Good lord, it’s been a month, darlin’, and she just lies around all day.”

“Shhh!” I whispered, clearing the empty gallon of milk from the table. “You want her to hear you?”

“When is she going to get a job?”

“She’ll find something soon,” I whispered.

I wasn’t backing down. Having Nicole stay with us was the only thing (other than sex) I had ever asked for. But Brett had been back now for several weeks, and the tension was mounting.

“It’s like living with a teenager,” Brett mumbled.

“I’m going to pay for her to go to therapy.”

“What?” Brett exclaimed loudly. A dish slipped out from his soapy hands and landed back in the sink.

“Shhh!”

“And I’m GODDAMN SICK OF WHISPERING IN MY OWN HOUSE!” Brett stripped off the gloves and threw them on the counter. He stopped as if surprised by the sound of his own raised voice, then, he stomped out of the room and up the stairs throwing a last punishing look my way.

I knew he expected me to run after him. Instead, I shoved the milk in the trash and slammed the lid.

For the first time in our relationship, the shoe was on the other foot. With my best friend around, I was no longer trailing him around the house, and he was jealous. A trait seemingly as new to Brett as to me.

“What’s all the yelling about?” Nicole asked sleepily.

I hadn’t heard her come in. She wore one of my nightgowns, so short on her tall frame that the hem came to her knees and the elastic cuffs hung below her elbows. Socks scrunched down around her ankles like a lost child, and my heart broke for her all over again.

I smiled at her. “It’s nothing, honey.” The last thing I wanted was for Nicole to think we were arguing about her. “Don’t worry about it. Brett’s just in a mood.”

“Are you okay?”