Chapter 13
Tuesday evenings had become one of the quiet constants in Rachel’s life.
Not because the dinners themselves were predictable — nothing involving Elena and Lydia had ever remained predictable for long — but because the women around the table had become something steadier than routine.
They had witnessed one another through too much for pretense.
Divorce and grief and betrayal and children and reinvention had stripped away most of the need to perform years ago.
Which meant that by the time Rachel arrived at Nora’s house with a bottle of wine and an increasingly complicated relationship with her own thoughts, she knew perfectly well she wasn’t likely to fool anyone.
Not that she intended to say anything.
At least, that had been the plan.
But plans where the Divorce Supper Club was concerned had always been somewhat theoretical.
Nora was finishing dinner when Rachel arrived, humming softly to herself while moving between the stove and the island with the practiced ease of someone who genuinely loved feeding people.
Lydia had brought bread despite Nora’s assurances that bread already had been purchased.
Vivian sat at the counter with a glass of wine and the expression of a woman prepared to observe the world and find fault with at least three things before dessert.
Elena arrived ten minutes later, dropping her purse onto a chair and announcing that she would be retiring immediately if anyone discovered a reliable way to survive without clients.
“Terrible day?” Nora asked sympathetically.
“Terrible people,” Elena corrected. “The day itself was innocent.”
Lydia smiled.
“I work in finance. Wealthy men are half my client base.”
“Which means?” Nora asked.
“Which means Elena’s right.”
Elena pointed across the table.
“Thank you. See? She understands.”
“Unfortunately, I do.”
Rachel laughed.
And immediately four pairs of eyes swung toward her.
Apparently she’d become easy to read.
“What?” she asked.
Nora smiled.
“Nothing.”
Vivian took a sip of wine.
“Something.”
Lydia sat forward.
“You seem happy.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I always seem happy.”
Elena snorted.
“No, sweetheart. You seem distracted.”
“Half distracted,” Vivian amended.
“Which means one of two things,” Elena said. “Either a man or a crisis.”
Nora looked hopeful.
“Or both.”
Rachel laughed.
“There are other possibilities.”
“No, there aren’t,” Vivian said calmly.
“There absolutely are.”
“Not at our age.”
Lydia nodded.
“Vivian’s usually right.”
Rachel smiled despite herself and reached for the wine.
Unfortunately, she missed the subtle exchange between Elena and Vivian, both of whom apparently considered themselves amateur detectives.
“So,” Elena said lightly. “How’s Grace?”
The smile on Rachel’s face softened.
“She’s coming home Friday.”
Immediately Nora brightened.
“Oh, that’ll be wonderful.”
Lydia smiled.
“You must be excited.”
“I am.”
The words came automatically.
And because these women had spent years watching one another tell partial truths, four faces immediately grew thoughtful.
It was Elena who noticed first.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “That’s not the face of someone excited her daughter is visiting.”
Rachel sighed.
“No, I am excited.”
“But?” Vivian asked.
Rachel looked down at her wine.
“I don’t know.”
“Excellent explanation,” Elena observed.
“It isn’t anything terrible.”
Lydia reached over and squeezed her arm.
“Sweetheart, nothing terrible and something difficult are not the same thing.”
Rachel smiled.
“I know.”
And she did.
That was the problem.
She knew Grace loved her.
She knew the divorce had been the right decision.
She knew children became adults and adults developed lives of their own and sometimes phone calls became shorter and visits became less frequent.
She knew all of those things.
And yet.
“I think things are just… different.”
No one interrupted.
No one rushed.
They waited.
“She’s busy,” Rachel continued. “College and friends and life. I know that. I do. But sometimes I feel like I can’t quite read her anymore. And after our phone call last week…” She sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve just had this feeling.”
“What feeling?” Nora asked softly.
Rachel shrugged helplessly.
“That maybe she’s still angry.”
“About the divorce?” Lydia asked.
Rachel nodded.
“Or about me changing careers. Or moving. Or…” She laughed softly. “Honestly, I don’t even know anymore.”
Elena studied her over the rim of her wineglass.
“Have you asked her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to make something into a thing if it isn’t a thing.”
Vivian raised an eyebrow.
“Avoidance.”
Rachel laughed.
“I know.”
For a few minutes, everyone focused on dinner while Elena recounted her latest battle with a client who had apparently interpreted “we signed an agreement” as the opening move in a negotiation rather than the conclusion of one.
But Rachel should have known the reprieve wouldn’t last.
Not with these women.
It was Nora who innocently wandered into the trap.
“And how’s Ben?”
Rachel froze.
And that, apparently, was answer enough.
Lydia actually gasped.
Elena smiled.
Vivian reached for her wine with the satisfied expression of a woman who had just won money.
Nora blinked.
Then her eyes widened.
“Oh.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
“No.”
“Oh!”
“No.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“No.”
Lydia was nearly vibrating.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Rachel.”
“Nothing happened.”
Vivian took another sip of wine.
“Something happened.”
Elena leaned back in her chair. “Something absolutely happened.”
Rachel looked around the table.
Traitors.
Every last one of them.
And somehow that thought filled her with such affection she found herself laughing.
Which, unfortunately, only encouraged them.
“Fine,” she said.
Four women straightened.
“Fine what?” Lydia demanded.
Rachel smiled helplessly.
“I kissed him.”
The room exploded.
Not literally.
Though Lydia’s squeal came alarmingly close.
Nora clapped both hands over her heart.
Elena grinned.
Vivian smiled into her wine.
And for one wonderful moment, Rachel simply sat there and let herself be loved.
“Finally,” Elena declared.
“Thank God,” Lydia breathed.
“Oh, Rachel,” Nora said.
Vivian nodded.
“About time.”
Rachel laughed.
“You’re all impossible.”
“Continue,” Elena ordered.
“There isn’t much to continue.”
“There is always much to continue.”
“We were leaving dinner.”
“Date,” Lydia corrected.
“Not officially.”
Elena waved a hand.
“Continue.”
“We got to the car.”
“His car or your car?”
“Mine.”
“Excellent.”
“Nora.”
“What? I’m invested.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I kissed him.”
“And?” Lydia asked.
“And…” Rachel laughed. “Then I apologized.”
Silence. Not shocked silence. Confused silence.
Even Elena frowned. Vivian blinked. Lydia tilted her head. Nora looked genuinely concerned.
Finally, Vivian spoke.
“For what?”
Rachel smiled.
“I know.”
“No, seriously.”
Vivian set down her wine.
“What exactly were you apologizing for?”
Rachel opened her mouth.
Closed it.
“Well…”
Nothing.
She frowned.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you bite him?” Lydia asked.
“No.”
“Step on his foot?”
“No.”
“Set something on fire?”
“No.”
“Then I’m with Vivian.”
Rachel laughed.
But slowly, the laughter faded.
Because the question remained.
What exactly had she been apologizing for?
Interesting.
Because she genuinely didn’t know.
And somehow that realization felt stranger than the apology itself.
“I honestly don’t know,” she admitted.
Elena had grown quieter.
“You weren’t apologizing for kissing him.”
“No.”
“So what were you apologizing for?”
Rachel looked down at her plate.
And before she’d entirely decided to say it, the truth began making its way out.
“I think…” She paused. “I think part of me still believes that wanting things hurts people.”
The room settled into silence.
Not the awkward kind.
The familiar kind.
The kind that existed between people who had witnessed one another through heartbreak and reinvention and all the strange ways life refused to unfold according to plan.
Rachel swallowed.
“therapist is coming home in two weekends and I keep thinking…” She laughed softly. “What if she’s still angry? What if she looks at me and thinks I ruined everything?”
Nora reached for her hand immediately.
Lydia’s eyes had already filled with tears.
Vivian poured more wine.
And Elena simply watched.
“I know leaving was the right decision,” Rachel said quietly. “I know it. Robert and I were good people, but we weren’t happy. We hadn’t been happy in a long time. And changing careers was the right decision. Moving was the right decision. I know all of that.”
“But?” Elena asked gently.
Rachel looked down.
“But sometimes…” Her voice softened. “Sometimes I think part of me still believes happiness comes with consequences.”
No one spoke.
And suddenly Rachel heard herself continue.
“I kissed Ben, and afterward all I could think was…” She laughed softly, embarrassed by the absurdity of it. “Well. You’ve done it again, Rachel. You’ve gone and wanted something.”
Silence.
Then Vivian leaned back in her chair.
“Sweetheart.”
Rachel looked up.
“When exactly did you decide you were so powerful?”
Rachel blinked.
“What?”
“You ended a marriage that had stopped making either of you happy, and somehow you’ve concluded you’re responsible for every emotion experienced by every person in your orbit.”
Elena snorted into her wine.
Nora smiled.
“She’s not wrong.”
Lydia nodded solemnly.
“It’s actually rather impressive.”
Rachel laughed.
Despite herself.
And suddenly Elena sighed.
“I hate that for you.”
Rachel looked over.
“What?”
Elena shrugged.
“I just do. I hate that somewhere along the line, you learned that your happiness had to come at your expense. I hate that you still think wanting things makes you selfish.”
The simplicity of it nearly undid her. Not because Elena was wrong. Because she wasn’t.