“He said that?” Megan’s mouth fell open. She was already holding a glass of wine since I’d ordered for her. I hadn’t even waited for her to show up. I was on glass number two.

I nodded, my head resting on one hand. “He didn’t even try to explain. I think he was too busy flipping out over the baby. You know?”

“That douchebag! What a complete fucking tool!” she ranted. Typical Megan, never pulling punches. Normally, I’d giggle and remind her we were in public, but I didn’t care just then.

“How could I have let him trick me like that? I thought I was too smart to fall for a guy like him.”

“Did you really fall for him?” she asked.

I saw sympathy written all over her face and felt a bit sorry for myself “I don’t know. I thought I could have been, I guess. I thought we were about to take things to the next level.”

“Oh, honey.” She put a hand over mine. “I could fucking kill that man for what he did to you.” She raised her other hand and signaled for more drinks. I didn’t bother to stop her. My work day was officially over, anyway.

“I wonder how the girlfriend found out about you?” she asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care, but I’m glad she did. I am. I really am. It makes my skin crawl to think I was the other woman this whole time. I hate that I let him do that to me.” I shivered at the thought.

“You’ll get through this,” she said, nodding her head so hard her springy red curls shook in every direction. “It’s not your fault, either, so I won’t hear any of that. You didn’t walk into this meaning to hurt anybody. He lied to you. You thought you were starting something good. Nobody could blame you for that. Besides,” she added with a wink, “being the other woman isn’t the end of the world.”

I blinked once, then twice. “Wait. What?”

“What?” she asked, shrugging.

“You were the other woman?”

“I thought you knew that story!” She took off her blazer, which was a clue that the story was going to be a good one, then pulled her curls into a loose twist. I settled in for the story, grateful for the excuse to stop thinking about my own misery.

“Okay. So, you remember my first boss at the ad agency?”

“The one who reminded you of Jon Hamm in Mad Men?” I rolled my eyes, remembering the hours I had to listen to her going on about what a genius he was and how incredibly lucky she was to have such a brilliant mentor. And, of course, all about what a gorgeous hunk of man he was. Then, I gasped. “Wait. Are you telling me you slept with him?”

She smirked.

“You didn’t tell me!”

“I knew you’d get all judgy.”

“I wouldn’t have! I swear to God! Do you think I’m that sort of person?” I asked, aghast.

“Okay, so maybe I was projecting. I don’t know. I think deep down I was feeling guilty. It wasn’t a secret that he was married—his wife’s picture was on his desk.” She crinkled her nose. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, but at the end of the day, I justified it to myself that I didn’t owe her any loyalty. I didn’t put the ring on her finger. If he wanted to cheat on her, it was between the two of them.”

“But you always said sleeping with the boss was a disaster waiting to happen.”

She took a sip of her wine. “It is. Why do you think I left?”

“Did she find out?”

“No idea. I knew I didn’t want to do it anymore, and being in the same space as he was had become awkward. So, I left but the end wasn’t pretty.”

“I cannot believe you let five years pass without telling me this. What else have you been holding back?” I leaned forward, suddenly more interested in her life than I was in my own.

Her green eyes sparkled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes. I would like to know. Which is why I’m asking.”

“What about you?” she countered. “You always get all shaky and jumpy whenever I mention Rich’s friend, Alex.”

I felt my cheeks go red. “That was a long time ago.”

“So, you did sleep with him, you little liar! I knew it!”

“I wasn’t exactly proud of myself,” I said, looking around as if anybody would care even if they overheard. The lunch crowd was heavy, but it seemed like everybody was too busy with their own lives to care about mine. That was one thing about living in the city: rarely, if ever, did people waste their time paying attention to what happened around them. There were just too many people, too many conversations.

“Gee, I can’t imagine why. He was living on Rich’s couch at the time. Oh, God, please tell me you didn’t do it on the couch.” When I squirmed, and looked at the floor, she squealed, waving her hands around. “Oh, gross, Mims!”

“We got caught up in the moment,” I said, wincing.

“I used to hang out on that couch with Rich after Alex left,” she said, groaning.

“Oh, please, tell me you guys didn’t do it on there.”

She squinted, wrinkling her nose. “Not after he moved out…”

“Ew! Before! I had sex where you had sex!”

She waved her hands frantically, grossed out. The glass of wine I had drunk took effect and we both dissolved into giggles.

She started her second glass of wine, raising it to me before taking a sip. “Remember Bradford?” She rolled her eyes, affecting a strong, WASP-y accent when she said his name.

“Oh, him. I tried to forget him. What a stuck-up prick.”

“Remember that time you tried to call him Brad?” she giggled.

“Yeah, and then he launched into a twenty-minute monologue about the origin of his name and how it stretched back to the Revolution. Talk about insufferable. He’s probably engaged to a girl named Angelina or Muffy or something.”

“Muffy?” We both burst out laughing. I should have known then that it was time to slow down. It wasn’t all that funny, but we leaned on each other and cracked up like it was.

“I think we should get something to eat,” Megan suggested, wiping tears from her eyes. “I need to soak up all this wine.”

“Agreed.” We ordered a plate of French fry nachos, which was basically nothing more than nachos with fries in place of chips. A work of genius, in other words.

“Okay, I’ve gotta ask.” She folded her arms on the table, leaning forward. “I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but what are you going to do about your job after this?”