Chapter 33
OLIVIA
Scanning the yard of my old home, I can’t help but notice how things have slipped since I left. The flowerbeds are overgrown, the lawn could use a trim, and the shutters that once gleamed with fresh paint now look a little tired. Some small part of me aches at that.
Even with the divorce, this house still holds pieces of me. Memories I can’t quite shake. I suppose that’s the thing about homes—you leave, but part of you always lingers in the walls.
I pull into the driveway, my mind already on what’s next. I’m excited—nervous, too, but mostly excited. Sam’s flying in this morning, and I can’t wait to see him.
It’s been just over two months since Bas’s funeral, and every day since, I’ve seen him inch his way back to the world. Slowly, carefully. Each smile, each laugh, feels like another piece of him coming home.
When he told me he loved me that night, I thought things might shift—that the weight of those words would somehow change us. But they didn’t, at least not in the way I feared. We’ve been good. Better, even. We see each other almost every week, and the rhythm we’ve found feels natural, easy.
And I do love him. I know I do.
I’m certain Sam knows too, even if I haven’t said the words out loud yet. It’s not hesitation born from doubt—it’s fear. Saying it makes it real, binding, and after everything I’ve been through, that kind of vulnerability still scares me.
It shouldn’t.
Not with him.
Because everything about Sam feels right.
Steady. Safe.
Still, the words sit heavy on my tongue, waiting for the right moment. Maybe today will be the day. Maybe I’ll finally find the courage to say it back.
I smile at the thought as I put the car into park and get out, though the timing couldn’t be worse. Stopping here—at Pete’s house, of all places—for Paige’s uniform means I’m running late. Again. The joys of parenting a teenager.
Paige has been better lately. The sharp edges between us have softened. She’s stopped throwing the divorce in my face every time I so much as breathe near her. There are still moments—small flare-ups where she tests my guilt, just to see if she can—but the constant tension is gone.
This morning’s little detour is one of those moments. Her “innocent” reminder that she left her soccer uniform at her dad’s house came with the kind of wide-eyed sweetness only a teenager can weaponize.
So here I am, playing errand girl to my daughter’s guilt trip, telling myself I can still make it to breakfast on time.
I glance at my watch. If Pete doesn’t keep me, I can.
But then again, when has Pete ever not kept me?
With a deep breath, a wave of something old and complicated sweeps through me—nostalgia, regret, maybe a tinge of defensiveness.
I remind myself this is just a quick stop. A few minutes, grab the uniform, and go.
Sam’s waiting.
And for the first time in a long time, I can’t wait to get back to someone.
When I’m mere feet from the front door, Erin steps out, shrugging on her suit jacket. I gasp, stopping dead in my tracks. She’s the last person I expected to see.
She freezes too, eyes wide and guilty, like she’s been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. We both know what this looks like.
Despite the obvious, she’s my friend, and for one foolish, fleeting second, I pretend not to see it.
“Erin. What are you doing here?” I even lean in for a hug, automatic, stupid.
We separate, and I instantly regret it. My mind’s racing, tripping over itself, trying to piece together an alternate reality, one where this isn’t what it so clearly is.
“Um, I…” Her gaze darts everywhere but at me.
“Did you spend the night here?” My voice is calm, too calm. Time slows. She blanches, her face draining of color, and I no longer need a verbal answer.
“Shit. Yes, I did. Let me explain.” She’s flustered, nothing like the cool, composed lawyer I’m used to.
I stand there, transfixed, my stomach sinking as I take in the whole damn picture. Her rumpled blouse, her heels dangling from her hand, the front door cracked open behind her.
“How long has this been going on?”
“Liv, let me explain.”
“How long?”
Her throat bobs as she swallows hard. “Almost six months.” Shame tints her cheeks pink.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Six months. Jesus, Erin.”
“It happened by accident. Remember, you asked me to talk to Drew about law school? Well, I came over because you’d asked me to, and…” She sighs, trailing off, repeating it again—because you asked me to.
Like this is somehow my fault.
“If you say that one more time, Erin…” The warning hangs between us.
She fidgets with the strap of her Dior purse, then finally murmurs, “Pete asked me to stay for dinner, and one thing led to another…”
Her voice fades, and then I watch it happen, the shift. The guilt melts away, her spine straightens, and the high-priced litigator reemerges. The friend disappears, replaced by someone bracing for a courtroom fight.
“I remember the night.” I’m slowly piecing together the timeline. “Drew had dinner with me before heading back to school. Paige was at Marci’s.”
It wasn’t like she’d been invited to a family dinner or heck, had even talked to Drew. He was with me.
She knew exactly what dinner meant. She likely came to my ex-husband’s house with that intention. I remember that night vividly. I’d suggested she speak with Drew at my house, or better yet, join us for dinner.
Erin’s shrewd. I know what she’s capable of.
We’ve been friends since high school, and I’ve witnessed more than my fair share of her schemes—especially when it comes to getting what she wants.
It’s what makes her such a damn good lawyer—ruthless, focused, and completely unapologetic once she’s set her sights on something.
“You’ve been sleeping with Pete since then.” It’s not a question.
She folds her arms across her chest and gives the smallest, curt nod.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My voice is tight, unfamiliar even to me. I’ve never felt this level of betrayal before, not from her even with all her barbs and snark.
“Seriously? How was I supposed to tell you?” She rolls her eyes like I’m the one being unreasonable. The audacity nearly knocks the wind out of me.
“We’re friends, and let’s park the girl code because surely you can’t be so oblivious as not to know you broke it. Pete wasn’t some boyfriend, Erin. As if that would make this all right.” I snort, tone dripping with sarcasm.
“He was my husband for twenty years and your friend for that long too. Did you always want to sleep with him?” The words tumble out, and I’m only just piecing this together in the moment.
My mind unravels as the past steamrolls through me. But I hold my ground. Any sign of weakness and she’ll seize it.
She scoffs. “He was supposed to be mine.”
“What?” The word falls out of my mouth, flat and stunned.
“The night you met Pete, I was supposed to meet him, but I was sick. It was Rob’s party—he invited Pete for me.
He said he thought we’d hit it off. But you met him instead.
And when I finally did meet him, you two were already dating.
” She’s so matter-of-fact, like it’s a perfectly rational explanation for betraying me two decades later.
“Have you been harboring that bombshell for twenty years? You never said a word. And seriously, Erin—you mean to tell me you destroyed a thirty-year friendship over a man you might have hit it off with twenty years ago?”
Her eyes harden. “I don’t know what your problem is.
You left him. You don’t want him. You’ve moved on.
Everything comes easy for you. You had it all, Liv—a great husband, amazing kids, you could stay home and do whatever you wanted.
But no, you had to cry about not getting enough attention.
Then when you told me you were leaving him, I figured…
” Her mouth twists into a cruel, humorless smirk. “It was my turn.”
Each word lands like a strike to the chest. The air around me slows, now heavy and warped, like I’ve stepped out of my own life.
As if this isn’t enough, she goes for the kill. “But fuck no. Now you’ve got some thirty-year-old hottie drooling all over you. Seriously, Liv, what is your problem? Do you think you’re the only one who gets to be loved or admired?”
“Erin, that’s enough,” Pete’s voice booms behind her, startling both of us. She jolts, color draining from her face, fear flashing across her features as she slowly turns to face him.
“Pete.” She shakes, most probably shocked to be caught, revealing her true self.
Before she can say anything else, I jump in. “I’m here for Paige’s uniform.” My tone is neutral, but inside, a storm’s raging.
“Liv…” Pete’s voice softens. He steps closer. “I wanted to tell you. Are you okay?”
I almost laugh. Am I okay?
He’s been making blatant advances on me for months while sleeping with my so-called best friend. Still, I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how deep this cuts.
“I’m fine. I just want the uniform.”
He exhales in relief, nodding. Maybe he thinks he’s dodged a bullet. “Liv, please come in and let’s talk.”
“Pete, I think we should talk, but I’m already late for court,” Erin chimes in, oblivious to the added tension between us.
He looks over my shoulder at her, but I refuse to acknowledge her. If they think I’m talking to them, together, they are sorely mistaken.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he snaps, running a hand harshly through his hair.
Erin inhales a sharp breath and gasps. “Fine,” she spits back, the retreating clip of her heels sounding behind me.
Scowl firmly in place, I cross my arms and avoid his gaze. Bowing his head, he nods and disappears into the house.
I was shocked at his tone with Erin. He was angry. He wasn’t this way often while we were married. His anger only shows when he’s been pushed to his limit. It takes a lot to get him riled. Drew is like him in that way, and thinking about our son stokes my anger and a burning desire to protect him.
When Pete returns with Paige’s bag in hand, it hits me like a freight train.
Our son.
“Drew.” I prepare to tear into him as this is what has come between father and son. Drew must know. God, what if he walked in on them?
Though just saying our son’s name is enough. Pete’s expression falters, guilt spreading across his face like a stain.
He exhales hard and looks away, the truth written all over him. My stomach twists.
“You better fix this with him. Now. I don’t care what you have to do, but you fess up to your douchebag move. Own it and let him off the hook. This has been eating him alive. I’ve seen it—I just didn’t know what it was. Fix. It.”
“Liv, I will. I promise.” He drags a hand through his hair, remorse carved deep in every line of his face. “Goddamn it, I’m so sorry. I was lonely, and she came on to me. I’m not putting it all on Erin, but—”
“Stop.” I can’t hear another word. I shudder at the thought of their excuses. “Just stop. Make things right with Drew. That’s all I care about.”
Taking Paige’s bag, I turn away. He calls after me, but I’m done. He can talk all he wants about loneliness and temptation, but his dick didn’t just fall into her. He made a choice—so did she.
By the time I reach my car, I’m shaking.
The drive to the school to drop off Paige’s uniform is a blur and from there, I just keep going. No destination, no plan.
Two hours later, I’m still driving, my thoughts looping like a broken record.
I’m not angry that Erin slept with Pete. Not really. I don’t want him. I haven’t for a long time. What cuts me open is her—the betrayal, the bitterness, the envy that’s apparently been festering for years.
All this time, she’s smiled at me, laughed with me, pretended to have my back all while despising me. And now I see it. Every memory, every inside joke, every “you’ve got this” over a bottle of wine…tainted.
It’s not Pete I’ve lost.
It’s her.
And that loss hurts far more than I ever expected it would.