Presley had her sandwich halfway to her mouth, but she froze and looked at me, assessing. Then she set the sandwich back on the wrapper on the table and scooted closer to me. “You ready to tell me what happened?”

I handed off the container of mushrooms, still half full, because food suddenly made me feel sick. Food or, let’s be honest, the way I’d treated Holden.

I sat there with my face scrunched up, eyes closed, soul full of regret. “He… told me he loves me.”

Presley put her hand on my leg right above my knee and squeezed supportively. “Wow. This is big.” Though she kept her voice calm, I could hear her smile. “Except you said you screwed up. What did you do, Chloe?”

Hanging my head, I drew in a deep breath, eyes still closed, then I admitted, “Told him he couldn’t or shouldn’t. Told him we needed to end our marriage. Then I told him to leave.”

“Ouch.” Presley wove her arm with mine and leaned her head into my head. “I’m trying to be the supportive friend here, but why the actual fuck?”

Why the actual fuck indeed.

“I think, at the time, I didn’t believe him. I thought he was saying it to make me feel better.”

“I don’t know Holden well, but I don’t think he’d say that to make you feel better. Not unless he meant it.”

Her words were a lot like what I’d been thinking for the past however many hours, though I’d waffled between agreeing with her and accusing myself of wishful thinking. “Do you really think that?”

“Of course I really think that. I always tell you what I really think.”

My inhale this time was shaky. I don’t think I’d quite let myself believe that Holden could love me, even though I wanted that more than anything in this world.

“I sort of get it,” she continued. “You were at your lowest point. Probably afraid to believe?”

“Definitely afraid to believe.”

Presley nodded. “The man I’ve been texting with all weekend seems like a man in love and crazy worried about you.”

“You’ve been texting with him?” I scowled.

“A couple dozen times. He’s trying hard to give you space but wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

I let out a hollow laugh. “I’m not okay.”

“No. But you will be. And you haven’t OD-ed on Twizzlers or anything worse.” She sat up straight. “He’s a good guy, Chloe. I wholeheartedly approve of you making your marriage real and permanent.”

“And you just jumped ahead about twenty-two steps,” I said, my voice wavering at the thought of how I would ever apologize to him. Whether I could ever get him to forgive me.

“I’m feeling confident about your chances.” She smiled and sounded upbeat.

I wasn’t feeling it.