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P rincess, our rescued miniature golden retriever, is curled into a golden donut at the foot of the bed, her soft snores rumbling through the mattress as I consume my latest read—a fantasy book about downtrodden women who find their power and get sweet revenge. Some of my favorite reads are when women take back their power. There’s a sense of empowerment in those books. Like there’s something I find in those characters that I’m missing from real life. I can never put my finger on it, but it brings me back every single time.

Miles doesn’t understand my mild obsession with reading. He’s always been indifferent to my “book hoarding” as he calls it. I much prefer the term book dragon . It’s much more elegant to imagine myself as a magical creature who’s collecting treasures to showcase in my cozy corner. Miles told me one time he views reading as a waste of time if you’re not learning something. If it wasn’t the weekly bible study passage or a new book on business strategy, Miles never joined me on nights when all I wanted to do was get lost between the soft pages of a fantastical world.

Tonight is one of those nights.

Once again, Miles texted me around dinner time. These texts are always the most heart wrenching.

My Love

Late night tonight. Midnight or later. Save dinner for me 3

Frowning at my phone, I discard it on the bedside table as I make myself comfy in bed again, trying to use reading as a distraction..

The distraction is short lived.

My phone buzzes. The screen lights up with a photo of my best friend’s dazzling smile and her contact name, Petty Bitch of the West . Her true name is Brooke, but she insists on using the nickname she earned in middle school. Brooke wears that name like a bandage of honor. Her stubbornness knows no end, especially when people hurt the ones she loves most. That stubbornness transmutes into pettiness real quick when she sniffs even an ounce of weakness. I know people joke that zodiacs aren’t real, but she’s the most Taurus person in existence.

I lean over to retrieve my phone and Princess doesn’t even budge, her little brown nose burying deeper into the blanket. Swiping the grey arrow across the screen, I’m greeted with a flood of purple light and a star covered ceiling—Brooke’s signature low lights that she set up in her house. She’ll literally eat by candlelight before using the lights that were installed in the ceiling, that are actually meant for seeing.

“What’s up bitch,” she drawls, her cheery tone indicating she’s probably getting ready to go out for the night.

“Well, currently your ceiling.” I giggle. “You know the phone fell over, right?”

I hear some shuffling in the distance and a muffled curse word. It isn’t long before a dark object covers the camera and the phone gets readjusted. Once the device is righted, my screen fills once again with the purple hue, and at the center is my best friend. Her auburn locks are thrown up haphazardly as she struggles with wrapping the current strand around a curling wand. Her body is swallowed up by an oversized sweatshirt. Golden patches sit below her eyes. Dark lip stain is paired with a bold, yet neutral eye palette. And I think I spy her signature going out heels in the corner of the camera.

“Okay, hottie. You got a dick appointment tonight?”

Brooke’s laughter echoes through the phone. A boisterous sound that makes my heart swell.

“While I would love to engage in some nefarious activities, no.”

I lay down next to Princess, lifting the phone above my head with one hand as I pet her with the other.

“So disappointing. I was ready to live vicariously through your next adventure. Married life is a little boring these days with Miles at work all the time for the new office they’re opening soon.”

Brooke side-eyes me before dropping her wand onto the counter. “Fucking hell.” She shakes her hand and shoves her thumb in her mouth to self soothe.

I snort to stifle a laugh as I watch her go through all the emotions that come with burning yourself on a curling iron.

“That’s actually what I called you about,” she mumbles, her thumb still lodged between her lips like a baby with a pacifier. “I was invited to an event tonight at Black Rabbit and wanted to see if you’d be my plus one.”

My smile evaporates. A well of something heavy builds in the pit of my stomach.

It’s been a long time since I’ve gone out with Brooke. The last time, we ended up in the back of an Uber so drunk, we could barely stand. Miles was furious when I got home. He threw a fit, which included throwing my phone across the bedroom. It splintered into a million pieces when it hit the wall. In my imbued state, the thing I remembered most was Miles forbidding me to get that drunk again. He kept yelling that my safety was at risk with that kind of behavior. During that time, I hadn’t had a day with my best friend since we got married. I just wanted one day out for the girls and, yeah, maybe we went a little too hard. But the over reaction was so not okay, even if he replaced my phone immediately the next day.

After that night, Miles only allowed me to see Brooke at home or when he could also go with. It really puts a damper on “girls’” night, but we made it work. I love them both, and if that’s what I need to do to keep both of them in my life, what’s a little compromise?

“No,” Brooke chastises. “No, no. I see that fucking face, Mary Jo.”

“But last time?—”

“But nothing, bitch! I haven’t seen you in like months. It’s a private event with a limited bar. We won’t be able to have more than maybe four drinks, plus we have a private ride to and from the club. This is seriously important to me, and I want my best friend there to support me.”

I shrink away from the camera, guilt wrapping around my heart. I miss her, too. The hardest part of this friendship is the fact we’re at different stages of life. She tolerates Miles and his rules, but she’s always independent, going to do her own thing when she wants to. Brooke doesn’t understand the delicate balance that comes with married life. A request like this, without asking Miles, is going to dig up so much drama.

“I’ll have to ask Miles,” I say.

Brooke shakes her head, her deep red curls dancing around her face.

“He’s not even there, right? Working late again. I promise, we will get home before he does, and he will never know.”

I let her words sink in.

Miles did say he wouldn’t be home until after midnight. It’s only 7:30 p.m. right now. If this truly is a private event, they usually end around 11:30 p.m. That would leave plenty of time to Uber home and quickly change before he knew anything happened while he was gone.

I bite my bottom lip as I weigh my options. The sting of my teeth digs into the tender flesh, sending a jolt of adrenaline through my system.

Flutters begin to build in my center. A renewed sense of excitement that I haven’t felt in a long time.

It wouldn’t kill me to have one night with my best friend. To let loose and just exist without feeling the need to please my husband. This is doable. I could do this.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

Brooke squeals on the other end of the phone. “I know that face! I’ll be there in thirty to pick you up. Oh, bitch. I’m so ready for tonight!”

Brooke hangs up without saying goodbye.

I guess that’s my cue to get off my ass and get ready.

Now the problem is finding what to wear.