Freya had said we needed a break. But how long did that mean? It had been almost three weeks since I’d confronted her about the couples’ swap. Freya had to be missing me, too. Like me, she had no other friends on the island, only acquaintances. She had to be craving my companionship as much as I craved hers. Didn’t she?

I would wait another week before I reached out. A month would have passed then; enough time to let all anger, resentments, and jealousies go. My reason for contacting Freya was two-fold. I missed her. But I also needed to order more of her pieces for the store. Business would pick up in a few months, and Freya’s pottery was among my bestselling items. With the baby coming, she wouldn’t have much time at the wheel.

But mostly, I just missed her.

Freya needed me, too. Her due date was rapidly approaching, and I felt she was woefully unprepared for the birth and the baby. If she’d read the baby books I’d given her, she’d have known what to expect, but she’d pronounced them both “gross” and “boring.” It was almost like she was in denial about what was to come.

About a month after she’d shared her pregnancy news with me, she’d asked me to be present at the birth. “I don’t have a sister. And my mom is a lunatic. I want you there with me.”

“I’d be honored,” I said, touched.

“Besides,” she chirped, “I’m going to be knocked out on drugs. You can tell me what happened.”

I’d laughed, but I wasn’t sure she was joking. Could the island’s small hospital provide the level of sedation Freya was anticipating? Did they even have an anesthesiologist on staff? I had suggested that Freya and I sit down with her doctor and prepare a birthing plan. She’d promised we would after she returned from Mexico. But shortly after, she’d cut me off. For her sake, I hoped she’d done one without me.

While I felt lonely and blue, my husband’s outlook had improved. His exercise had become less manic, and, between marathon phone calls with his editor, he was writing again. Brian was happy that Freya and I had fallen out. He didn’t say so outright, but it was obvious in his chipper mood. And in his suggestions that I replace her with a new friend.

“Why don’t you join a running club? Or take a watercolor class? It would be good for you to meet some new people.”

“I don’t have time for running and painting,” I retorted. “I’ve got to do my ordering and scheduling before business picks up at spring break.”