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“Of course,” Ellen says. A look passes between them. Ellen and I’ve always had a brother-sister relationship, and now we barely make eye contact. “I’ll get you another pillow,” she says and walks down the hall.

“We’re finally going to be roommates,” Sam says.

“Right. You, me, and your wife.”

“Don’t worry, she won’t get in the way.” He smiles.

“Are you sure Ellen’s okay with this?” I ask.

“She’s fine. We never take sides, although I’m totally on yours.”

Ellen comes back with another pillow and puts it on the bed. We stand in the tiny bedroom, none of us saying anything. I’m a forty-six-year-old man moving in with my best friend and his wife. How did I get here? I never thought after twenty years that the person I trusted the most would betray me. My whole world has been thrown up in the air and dropped down like a basketball hitting cement over and over.

CHAPTER 21

“Gia, are you still there? I can’t hear you.” Jim’s voice was booming through the speaker of Gia’s phone, reverberating off the walls of the nail salon. The salon was filled with mothers and daughters laughing and talking, and Gia and I’d been sitting next to each other like two strangers on a bus. I thought the two of us getting manicures would be a good way to spend time together, but she would’ve rather been with Jason than getting her stupid nails done. Her lovely words to me on the ride over.

Over the last five days, Jim had called her three times, but he’d cut the calls short to avoid her asking too many questions. When she wondered why he wasn’t calling more, I told her there was lousy cell service where he was. Hearing his voice through her speaker made me sad, but it also made me angry because he’d been ignoring all my calls. The other women at the salon were giving me the evil eye, and the receptionist began tapping on a sign that read, “No Cell Phone Calls in the Salon.”

“Could you get off the phone? You’re disturbing everyone around us,” I said. Gia made no move to hang up.

“Where are you?” Jim asked her.

“Mom made me go with her to get a manicure.”

“Gia’s getting one too,” I yelled toward the phone, gesturing with my hand, which caused my manicurist to nick me with her cuticle cutter. “Ow,” I said, putting my finger in my mouth. “Can you watch what you’re doing?” I was taking my frustrations out on her, but I didn’t care.

“You’ve been gone almost a week. When are you coming home?” Gia asked him.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s Saturday. How long is that conference?”

“I don’t know,” he said, stumbling over his words.

“How can you not know?”

“It’s complicated … and you sound busy right now. I’ll call you tonight. I love you.” He hung up.

“He’s not at a conference, is he?” Gia asked so loudly that anyone who hadn’t already been staring at us looked over.

I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Let’s talk about this in the car.”

“No. Every time I ask you about him, you get weird. What’s going on?” she asked at the same loud pitch.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying.” She pulled her hand away from her manicurist, causing her to mess up her polish. “Now look what you made me do,” she said, scowling at me. The manicurist rolled her eyes.

“Excuse us for a second,” I said to both manicurists. Then I took Gia by the arm. “Come with me.” I pulled her to the corner of the room. “Everything’s fine,” I said. “Your father and I are working a few things out.” I had no idea if that was true.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means things will soon be back to normal.”

“I don’t believe you.” She stormed out of the salon. One set of her nails had fuchsia polish and the other was completely bare. She needed a few minutes to calm down, so I kept my head down and walked back over to my manicurist to finish my nails. The manicurist who had been doing Gia’s nails handed me a bill and moved on to someone else.

When my nails were done, I left the salon hoping I’d figure out what to say to Gia on the ride home, but instead of waiting for me, I saw her getting into Taylor’s convertible. The two of them drove off, their hair blowing in the breeze. I sat down on the curb outside the salon. It was hard and uncomfortable, which was fitting for what my life had become. I rummaged through my purse to find my phone, but since my nails weren’t completely dry, I had to be careful, kind of like that game Operation where you’re trying not to hit the sides. When I finally got my phone, I saw Michael had texted me again. He’d been texting me for days, but I hadn’t responded. I called Ellen.