I consider stopping by Bliss but decide against it. Jenny and I are not quite back to normal; I know she wishes I’d just divorce Adam. Life is so black-and-white for people without kids. Or something. I don’t know. But I’m New Rachel now. I don’t need my sister as much as I used to. Not in the same way, anyway. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. The thought does, however, make me feel like I can’t breathe. Maybe that’s why I’m reaching out to Jared a little more; I miss the old me.

Jenny came to the house last weekend for my birthday—my fortieth—and gave me a beautiful necklace and a card that said, “You’re the best mother I know.” Translation: I understand you’re doing staying with him because of the girls.

But am I? Or am I staying for me, because I don’t want to admit failure? Emmanuelle’s gone. He chose me, but I still feel like a failure.

“Rachel!” Jared gives me a big hug as he comes through the restaurant door. “How are you?”

We talk about Kimber and the ongoing blood sport that is his upcoming wedding; his mother has caused three wedding planners to quit, and Kimber is trying very hard to make Mrs. Brewster happy.

“Make sure your mother doesn’t run roughshod over her,” I tell Jared.

“I’m trying. It’s just that Kimber wants Mom to like her.”

“That will never happen,” I say before I can stop myself. This New Rachel. So rude. “I’m sorry. What I mean is, is anyone ever good enough for your baby?”

He smiles. “I keep telling Kimber she has to stand up for herself. It’s not a secret that my mom’s a control freak. Imagine when we have babies. But Kimmy just says let’s get through the wedding, because it doesn’t really matter to her.”

“Well, then, she’s a saint,” I say. “And her mom is very nice, too. She might give your mom a run for the money.”

“I know!” Jared says happily. “Finally, someone will. Now, listen. You can say no if this will be too much, but do you think the girls would like to be flower girls?”

“Oh, my God, you will make their lives! Yes, of course! Thank you!”

“It was Kimber’s idea. She loves kids.”

Our meals are served. A salad for me, a giant steak for him. I tell him a few stories about the girls, because he’s one of the few men who really seems to get a kick out of the antics of toddlers.

He’s always been a true friend.

“Jared,” I say as I eat my salad, “did you know Emmanuelle St. Pierre?”

“Sure,” he says. I can tell immediately that he doesn’t know about their affair. Jared is as transparent as a Golden retriever.

“So whatever happened to her? I heard she left the firm.”

“Oh, no, actually,” he says, wiping his mouth. “I’m surprised Adam didn’t tell you, since he recommended her for the position. She’s with our Manhattan office now. She’s the new head of litigation.”

I don’t move for a second. Then, realizing that a response is required, I nod. “Oh.”

“Were you guys friendly?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Well, she’s got a kick-ass apartment in Trump Place,” he says. “She had all of us partners down for a cocktail party last week. Very nice. Didn’t Adam mention it? He was there, too.”

My heart seems to have stopped.

“We drove in together. It was fun. Grabbed a beer afterward before we headed home. It was nice. He and I don’t talk much, to tell you the truth. I mean, at work.” He stops chewing. “Rach? You okay?”

“Yep.”

“You sure?”

“Um...yeah. I just had a weird bit of lettuce or something.” I smile and drink some water.

Adam recommended his mistress for a promotion and went to a party at her place.

Funny, how that hasn’t come up in conversation.

* * *

I wait until the girls are in bed that night to fight with Adam. “So you lied to me again,” I say calmly. “Emmanuelle didn’t quit. She got a promotion with Triple B. Thanks to you, I hear.”

He looks at me, a look of faux confusion/innocence on his face, same as the night he expressed his moral outrage that I thought him capable of an affair. At least I’ve learned how to tell he’s lying. “I told you about that,” he says.

“No, Adam,” I grind out. “You didn’t.”

“I’m sure I did, actually.”

“You didn’t! You said she took a job in another city!”

“Well, she did, Rach. She’s working in Manhattan. I don’t understand the problem. You didn’t want us working together, and we’re not.” He raises his eyebrows in the patented “women are so hysterical” look. I could cheerfully shank him right now.

“What you told me, Adam, was that she got a better offer from somewhere else.”

His face tightens. “Look,” he says, and his voice is hard. “She could’ve had a fucking field day with me. She could’ve made things public, complained to the partners, whatever. Instead, she and I made a deal.”

“And all of this is news to me.”

“I told her I’d recommend her for the promotion so long as she didn’t say anything.”

“So she blackmailed you, got a promotion and now lives in a swanky apartment in Manhattan, where you recently visited. Well done, Adam. You really drew a line in the sand, didn’t you?”