Three Tube trains went past at Tottenham Court Road before I was able to cram onto a carriage and embrace the sweat of a dozen strangers’ armpits. I managed to siphon my way to the open window, and risked lifelong tinnitus by pushing my head out, letting the warm wind lift my hair. I hadn’t heard from Ben all afternoon, and worried about it more than I would’ve done before. He usually went out for a few staff room drinks on a Friday, and his iPhone usually died by 2:00 p.m. each day. But it was his turn to cook dinner. It felt wrong, lying about working late, but if he ever discovered the full scope of my insecurity, that would be the end of us. Ben could tolerate my depressive episodes, but I doubt any guy found excessive jealousy attractive.

“Sorry I’m late,” I called, pushing through our front door, sweat beading on my forehead. “I tried to hack the Central Line by staying an extra hour, but it’s like a fucking casino. The house always wins.”

“Come join us,” Ben called back happily. “We’ve got margaritas.”

“Who’s us?”

“Jessica is us,” Jessica’s voice echoed down the hallway as I kicked off my sandals.

Why the hell was Jessica there?

I followed their laughter, and found Bridget on our sofa, lolling like a tiny Marie Antoinette, completely engrossed in her juice box and cartoons.

“Hi, Bridget.” She just wiggled her finger in reply. I found them in the kitchen and sensed their shared atmosphere of fun. Jessica leaned against the counter in the most glorious summer dress—white and covered in pink polka dots, twinned with a pink ribbon crowning her ponytail. She looked like Zooey Deschanel’s hot evil twin. Ben had his shirtsleeves rolled up, a margarita in his hand.

“Hi, guys.” I kissed him on the cheek, then scanned the kitchen. The blender was empty in the sink. Had they drunk a whole pitcher together? Without even messaging me? Actual dread started pulsing through me.

“Here, have my drink,” Ben passed over a large glass filled with crushed ice. “If I have any more, I’ll be sick into dinner.”

“Looks like you guys are having quite the sesh.” My voice came out very casual, but I was not feeling casual at all.

Jessica laughed, and I watched her reach out and needlessly touch Ben’s arm as she laughed. “Sorry, Fern, it’s my fault,” she said. “I came over unannounced, and you weren’t here. We just got chatting and carried away by the good weather.”

We.

The word hit like a bullet. That wasn’t a word for her and Ben.

“Sounds fun,” I chirped, taking a slurp of the green slush.

“Ben’s just convinced me to try dating again.”

“Shouldn’t she?” he asked me. “I mean, honestly, what’s the worst that can happen?”