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What are you talking about? Who is who? It’s a wrong number. Nothing happened. Then… It was only a onetime thing.

He begged, cried, pleaded, and eventually—after many sessions with a therapist, some difficult soul-searching, spiritual counseling, and a heart probably too forgiving for her own damn good—they were able to salvage their relationship.

They both agreed the old marriage was over—it would never be the same.

The question remained: Could they make a new and even better one?

After some time, the answer appeared to be yes.

Christian quit drinking and left his sales job.

No more booze and hotel bars meant no new chances to get into old trouble.

He let her monitor his phone as they continued with counseling.

Eventually she allowed him to crawl back into her heart before inviting him into their bed.

Along with their new marriage came their new business. But before all that, Julia got her revenge—a little tit for tat that Christian didn’t know about, and that Julia regretted to this day.

Now she feared they were sliding backward. Had she misplaced her trust once again?

That was the beauty of social media. She could use it to fool herself into believing that every moment of her existence was caption-worthy. But real life was complex, like flirty Fiona—sometimes it was beautiful, but other times it was just a hot mess.

Julia made her way downstairs. It was late, but already she had a handful of likes on her moon picture. How lame that she cared.

Before she knew it, she found herself outside, wrapped in a scratchy blanket that had been in the family longer than she had.

This time last year, she’d have seen the moonlight dancing across the rippling water from the screened porch.

She could still see it, but only through David’s windows, just as he’d promised.

What a shit.

The view was basically ruined. Julia was about to return inside when a piercing sound drew her attention to the water.

It was a female voice, perhaps a cry of distress.

Julia froze. She listened intently, leaning into it, and heard it again: “Let go. You’re hurting me.”

“Just get back in the house.”

That was David’s voice, sharp enough to crack glass. After Fiona’s display at the bonfire, Julia could imagine what they were arguing about.

Fiona again: “I said, let go of me!”

A light went on inside Erika’s home. Fiona threatened to wake the whole lake.

“Keep your voice down,” David said.

Julia didn’t like how aggressive he sounded. He had a temper that could ignite with a lot less provocation.

Instead of letting the lovers quarrel, Julia intervened. Instinct told her that silence would be a choice she’d later regret. She had to walk around his house to reach them, using her phone’s flashlight to avoid tripping over one of David’s pricey new lawn sculptures.

Julia reached the back of his house, horrified to see David clutching Fiona’s arm. Even in the dim light, she could tell his grip was firm.

She called David’s name, which had an immediate effect.

He let go, backing up a step, though he continued to face off with Fiona like they were combatants readying for the next round.

He was dressed like a boxer, too, in a black satin robe—a look nobody could pull off, even back in the seventies when it was in style.

His chosen opponent was out of her bikini top and wearing a white silky tank with spaghetti straps that paired well with her loose-fitting pajama pants.

“What’s going on?” Julia asked hotly.

“Why don’t you ask her?” David said, his face mere inches from Fiona’s, who held her ground. Good to see Fiona was no shrinking violet.

“I just warned David he was going to drive another nanny away if he tried to fuck this one as well.”

“Please, just leave us alone, Julia,” David said. “Fiona’s still drunk.”

“Oh, so what if I had a little too much fun… you sure weren’t showing me a good time. You were too busy ogling the nanny.”

Julia thought: And you were busy giving Rick the lap dance of his life. Pot, meet kettle.

David snorted in disgust. “I put my hand on Izzy’s shoulder to get her attention. That’s all. You’re being insane.”

“I saw the way you undressed the last nanny with your eyes, and who knows what else you did when I wasn’t around.”

David stiffened, casting a hateful glare at Fiona, who again did not back down.

Erika emerged from the dark. Her voice broke the standoff.

“What’s going on?” she asked, flicking her focus between Fiona and David.

“It’s just a little lover’s spat,” said David, finding his genial smile too quickly to be real. “Let’s go inside, we’ll sort it all out.”

David reached out his hand as if extending an olive branch, and to Julia’s astonishment, Fiona took it.

They walked back to the house together, leaving Erika and Julia dumbfounded.

Fiona seemed rather pleased with herself as she departed.

She held her head high, walking with the pride of someone who came out victorious.

But Julia knew something about David that Fiona did not: for him, losing wasn’t an option.