I stare at her, blinking once, wondering if she realizes the core requirement for a marriage is compromise.

“My home and my heart are in New York City, and I know he hates it there,” she scoffs. “He’s always going on and on about his beloved Graceville, but there’s no way in hell I could live in a place like this.” She shakes her head with another roll of her eyes before looking away for a moment and pressing her lips together. I can tell she’s regretting what she just said, but she brushes it off with a wave of her hand. I try not to feel offended, but I can’t help it. The disdain in her voice is like a slap to the face. As if those south of the Mason-Dixon Line are nothing but low-class.

“What should I do, Murph?”

I look up from my wine glass, surprised by her question. She’s actually asking me what to do? Oh, if only you knew, honey. I bite back my smug smirk, offering a noncommittal shrug of my left shoulder as I throw back the rest of my wine.

“You’re his best friend.” She looks at me, her eyes imploring. “And you’re a girl. You have to help me!”

I take the moment to look at her, studying her from her red-rimmed eyes, to her pale cheeks slightly hollowed as if she’s not been eating enough, and I have to say I do feel a little sorry for her. I mean, does she even know Nash and I used to be together? Does she know Nash is the man I was hoping to one day marry? She seems so clueless. So desperate and hopeless, and a little pathetic.

But my traitorous heart tugs in my chest, reminding me that deep down I am, in fact, human. I don’t know if the woman across the table from me is honestly in love with Nash, but I can tell she’s obviously terrified of losing him and, with that, I can most certainly relate. And right at that moment I realize something: perhaps Anna and I aren’t so different after all. Just two women hopelessly devoted to the same man.

***

Struggling with a grunt and a groan, my back aches in objection as I try and maneuver Anna’s lanky body off the elevator. For a skinny girl no bigger than a size two, she sure weighs a hell of a lot.

“Come on, Anna,” I hiss, pulling her awkwardly. “This way.”

“Oh look!” She lunges forward, taking me with her, stopping by the ice machine in the corner of the hall. She giggles to herself, pushing the flap open and sticking almost her whole head inside. “Wow, Murph. It really is cold in here!”

“Yeah, it’s an ice machine,” I murmur, grabbing her hand and trying to turn her. “Come on.” I wrap my arm around her tiny waist, forcing her with me.

After lunch, Anna had forced me to go with her to the bar out by the swimming pool where she consumed enough cocktails to take down a full-grown man. She’d been so embarrassing and obnoxious; we’d actually been asked to leave before the dinner rush started to arrive at the club. The moment she began yelling, “Don’t you know who my father is?” I took that as our cue to leave, and practically dragged her skinny butt out of there before she made even bigger fools of the both of us.