I took the first bite out of the piece of chocolate cake in front of us. “That I can promise. This is completely different.”

Rita was my oldest friend from high school, and I’d introduced the two of them over a decade ago. Rita had always liked to party, and after she had had her second child, she’d hit the pills hard too. So hard that coupled with the bottles of wine she drank every day, she had started showing up at preschool pickup smelling like booze. It wasn’t long before her family had sent her to rehab. She’d started attending a born-again Christian church after she got out and had become so involved that her former self was almost unrecognizable.

“Too bad you couldn’t just take Scott,” she said.

I’d given up asking him to go with me, which was what always happened whenever I did anything new—he tolerated it from me but he didn’t want any part of it.

“Are things getting any better for you?” she asked.

I’d spent our last two visits opening up to her about how much I was struggling in my marriage. I rarely talked about our relationship with anyone, but I hadn’t been able to keep things in any longer, and talking with Scott about stuff had gotten me nowhere. He said the same thing whenever I brought up how stagnant I felt—“I love you. Every part of you. I want you to grow and change, experience new things. I support you.”

But I wanted him to grow and change, experience new things too. His contentment with sameness was more maddening the older I got. How could we live our lives based on decisions we’d made when we were seventeen?

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to understand how I was feeling, but those discussions ended with his other favorite saying, “I just don’t get it. Our lives are perfect.”

That was just it. Our lives were perfect—too perfect. I’d explained it to Christina, and she’d understood. I didn’t understand why he couldn’t.

She was looking at me with hopeful eyes from across the table even though she tried to hide it and pretend like she didn’t want me to answer a certain way. The problem with having a fairy-tale relationship story was how much other people were invested in keeping the fairy tale alive. It wasn’t just our story—it was everyone’s.

I shifted my gaze away from hers. “Things are getting better. Getting back to work has been a huge help. I’m interviewing one of the girls from my soccer-coach story next week, so I’m excited about that.” I tried to sound convincing as I prattled on. “Scott and I are connecting again. All that weirdness between us is gone.”

“See? I told you everything would be fine. You guys always work things out.” Her smile lit up her face. “You always do. That’s what happens when it’s meant to be.”