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You’re probably wondering what happened to Austin moving, right?

It happened. He leaves Saturday morning, but instead of coming by the house himself, because I told him if he steps foot in my house again, I’m calling the cops, he has Brie come by and pick up a few things he’d left in the garage.

I don’t know how this co-parenting is going to work out, because at this point, the boys refuse to see him and while I don’t want to allow him to see them, I’m not sure I have a choice.

I called my attorney this morning and left a message for him, asking him for my options but seeing how the parenting plan is already filed and agreed upon, we would have to reopen and agree on the changes.

Do you see the two women standing outside in the driveway beside the minivan? There’s one biting the inside of her cheek so hard blood pools in her mouth. There’s one nervously shifting from one foot to the other, contemplating what she’s going to say to her friend. Ex-friend.

And here we stand, face-to-face, alone for the first time since she stabbed me in the back. I have to wonder if anything that comes out of her mouth is going to be truthful.

I’ve gone over the night in my head. The night I discovered Austin cheated on me, but I now know it started way before I had any idea of him cheating. Still, my thoughts wander tohowdid it start?

I imagine that song by Little Big Town. You know, the one, “Girl Crush.” Only I don’t have a crush on Brie. I have a hate rush anytime I’m around her. I think if anyone had a crush, she had one on me and took what was essentially mine.

But she didn’t get the best part of Austin. She never would.

I do wonder what Austin said to get her in bed or what did she say to him?

Honestly, I’d rather catch my pinky toe on the bed frame then to talk to Brie, but it’s inevitable at some point because, after everything, I deserve an answer, don’t I?

That’s the bottom line, isn’t it?

You know a little bit about my friendship with Brie Baker. What youdon’tknow—and I probably should have shared this in the beginning—is that I was her only friend when she first moved here from New Jersey. No one liked her. Everyone made fun of her pasty white skin and her braces.

Not me. I was nice to her. Always.

We went through every single stage together growing up, from the first period to the “dude, I got boobs finally.” She was literally the sister I never had, and I always wanted her to be my kids’ super cool aunt. Never once through any of those phases in our life together did I think there would come a day where we would no longer be best friends.

She changed that.

Life got complicated.

My breathing intensifies when I breathe out, “Why?”

Brie swallows hard, shifting the box in her hand filled with Austin’s football trophies from college. “What do you mean, why?”

Brie had always had a thing for Austin since the day I met him when I was thirteen. It made me wonder, naturally, how long had this been going on? Austin said they slept together before we were married, but I can’t trust anything Austin says, as you know.

Did I want to know the answer? No. Not really.

Does it stop me from asking?

Nope.

“Why did you fuck my husband?”

And then she says, wait for it. . . it’s the most generic line ever used.

“I. . . it just happened, Aly. I didn’t mean for it to. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Excuse me while I stick my finger down my throat and gag in her face.

“When was the first time?” Brie’s face hardens like she has to poop. I point in her face. “Don’t lie either. You’ve lied enough in ourex-friendship.” Like how I added ex? She needs to know this grudge-holder isn’t befriending her again. “Time to be honest with me.”

Brie draws in a careful breath, as though she needs it to explain to me how much of a bitch she really is. “First time was when I was fifteen.”

Fifteen. Fucking fifteen?