Suffice it to say, my best friend Martha Shockley did not take the news very well that my ex-husband had hit me and raped me even if it happened over six years ago. She had not been mad at me. She’d been devastated for me. Upon the news, she crumbled instantly. She hated this for me and watching her absorb the burden of this information I was reminded why I didn’t tell her.

Then she enveloped me in her arms and forced me to promise never, and I mean never, to hold something like that to myself again.

“It’s always been you for me, Tess, and I can’t bear thinking it isn’t me for you,” she whispered. “I’m done backing off, hoping you’ll sort your head on your own, honey. You gotta let me be there for you and from now on, I sense something’s wrong, I’m gonna make you let me be there for you.”

I held her close and I gave her that promise.

Seriously, what else could I do?

Needless to say, salad did not really go with confessions of the soul so Martha ate four of the dozen cupcakes I brought home for Brock.

But learning this news had not put Martha off her game and when Brock showed, she watched him like a hawk, waiting for him to fuck up in some way so she could pounce. She did this with eyes constantly narrowed so much I feared she’d give herself a migraine.

Brock, however, was who he always was (even when I called him Jake). He was Brock.

Sensing he was not going to fall at the first hurdle and expose the screaming dickhead he was hiding within, Martha finally gave up and left.

Which led me to now.

I closed the door, locked it, and turned to my living room.

I lucked out. Four years ago, after the bakery caught on and life started to get a lot less scary, I went house hunting and the second house I looked at was this one.

The couple who had previously owned it spent years fixing it up and getting it to exactly what they wanted it to be. Then the husband received word he was being transferred just weeks before the finishing touches were put on the last of the loving care (and scads of cash) they’d put into their house—a brand-new kitchen.

They were devastated at having to leave.

I was elated (though I didn’t share this).

The dark wood floors had all been redone. The walls had all been reskimmed. The bathrooms were updated and fabulous. The basement had been finished into a huge family room where I kept my TV. Also down there was a powder room, laundry room, and a guest room that had its own bath. The furnace had been replaced. The roof reshingled. The yard landscaped. And a swamp cooler had been installed.