She shrugs her shoulders, the soft pink fabric slipping down and making her look that much thinner, that much more beautiful. “Was it any good?” she asks and lifts the glass to her lips. It’s dark red wine, the same color she wears on her lips. It’s one thing I like about Jules; she’s nothing if not consistent.

Rolling my eyes, I wipe my face with my hand. It’s always good with Evan. “It was a mistake,” I tell her instead. My dismal tone immediately changes the mood and frustration flows through me.

“People make mistakes,” Jules says low, so low I almost didn’t hear her. And then she looks at me and adds, “It happens.” She sounds so sad and I can’t help but to wonder what’s going on with her. For just a moment, a short glimpse, there’s something there other than the perfect façade she always carries. But the moment she registers that I can see it, the crack in her demeanor, she straightens her shoulders and takes in a heavy breath.

Silence passes and the only thing that can be heard is the rustling of paper as Maddie unwraps something. Staring down into the newly poured glass of wine I realize I’ve never felt so alone and unwelcomed. It’s not them, it’s me and my head, I know it is. “I just don’t know what to do,” I say, speaking to all of them or none of them, it doesn’t matter, I just needed to say it. “We slept together and I think it was a mistake … Because I kicked him out the next morning.” A groan leaves me, nearly comical, as I take a small sip but it’s not satisfying. Not nearly large enough either.

“You don’t need to decide right now,” Jules says easily. “There’s a lot to consider and talk about.” She nods her head as she talks, almost like she’s talking to herself.

“The thing is … I don’t know what I want, but I know he’ll convince me to stay with him.”

“Men have a way with words,” Sue chimes in, agreeing with me, and tips her glass in an air-cheers with me. “It’s called lying.”

I huff in agreement, opting for my water instead of more wine, as I watch Sue saunter over to the tray of cheese.

“I mean … not that he lied … he’s just …” Sue says softly and then clears her throat to add with a touch of sympathy, “I keep letting my shitty experience color my opinion. Sorry,” she says, looking me in the eyes. The sincerity there kills me.

“It’s fine. It’s called experience.”