“Her pants were so tight, I could see her religion,” Mary Hill Mitchell finishes a story about the fashion faux pas of an acquaintance we know at a recent party.

“Good lord!” Lucy Nelson shakes her head.

“Well, that’s just trash,” I say, to keep up the conversation.

Anxious butterflies attacked my stomach the entire way to the restaurant, but being here with my friends is much more relaxing than I anticipated. Normally, I’m all in for the recent gossip. I usually have a few stories to add myself, but with everything going on with work and Erik and Trent, I’m a mess of nerves. The last thing on my mind is how tight someone’s pants were. But I haven’t seen my friends since Trent and I broke up, so I’m just grateful to be around them again.

Mary Hill, Lucy, and I met in our debutante class. There were fifteen girls total, but four of us became very close and stayed friends ever since. Every month for the past year or so, we’ve made it a point to have lunch together. We see each other outside of this, but monthly lunch is a tradition we wanted to keep alive for when our lives got busy and pulled us in various directions.

I thought I’d have to fend off questions about the breakup, but so far so good. Neither woman has brought it up. Then again, the fourth member of our group, the one person I expected to see, isn’t here—yet.

My water glass is empty, so I look up to grab the attention of our waiter. That’s when I notice Suzanne Anderson barreling through the restaurant like a wrecking ball, in a baby blue, paisley, A-line dress. I take a deep breath and brace myself for the backlash Erik talked about.

Though we were in the same debutante class, Suzanne and I have been friends even longer. We’ve been joined at the hip since we met in high school. We chose all the same activities and sports, even went on multiple Spring Break trips together.

At one time, I called her my best friend, but she hasn’t spoken to me since Trent and I broke up. So, I reckon the correct description now is: Trent’s sister.

“Hey y’all! Sorry I’m late,” Suzanne says, placing her pocketbook on the back of her chair before sitting down. “I was helping at Junior League today and lost track of time.”

“No problem, sugar.” Mary Hill waves her hand. “I was just telling the girls about the Brooks’ party last Friday night.”

“Did you tell them about Tricia’s pants?” Suzanne asks immediately. The waiter stops to pour her a glass of water and refill mine from a silver pitcher. “Madeline.” She nods at me curtly.

“Hey, Suzanne.” I hoped she wouldn’t show. I almost cancelled coming because I knew she’d be here, but I didn’t want anyone to think I was a coward. I made my decision and I stand by it, even if I can’t be entirely truthful about the reasons for it.

Thankfully, the conversation steers back to the party the Brooks had last Friday, which was obviously the place to be. I didn’t even know about it. Which seems odd, but maybe I missed the invitation. I’ve been swamped at work, and haven’t been keeping up with personal email as often as I should recently.

Our meals arrive fairly quickly since we all ordered some form of a salad. I’ve just taken a bite of the delicious Spinach Cranberry Pecan salad I ordered when Suzanne turns to me.

“You must be doing well, hey, Madeline? Heard you’re already seeing someone else. Guess my brother was right about you.”

It’s imperative I finish chewing before answering, but the thick silence makes me uncomfortable. “And just what does that mean?” I finally squeak out.

“Well, it’s no secret, is it? You’ve been out and about with him.” Her beady, brown eyes pierce mine. They’re an exact reflection of Trent’s, which makes my stomach turn. “I never believed my brother when he said you were cheating on him. I thought I knew you better than that. But then he told me that you were already seeing someone.”

“Madeline! Are you holding out on us?” Mary Hill asks. By the jovial tone of her voice, I’m sure she’s trying to break the tension, but it’s not helping. Not me, at least.

“For the record, I never cheated on Trent.” I set my fork down and wipe my hands on the napkin in my lap. “But yes, I am seeing someone. It just sort of happened.”

“I can’t believe you held back this entire time.” Lucy slaps the table lightly. “Tell us about him already.”

“It’s not something I want to talk about right now. It’s all still new, nothing serious,” I lie. It is new, but it’s gotten serious fairly fast—fueled by the fact that Erik and I had an established friendship previously. Since bowling with Liz and Austin, we’ve met up for multiple dates—axe throwing, a scavenger hunt to find all the murals in Plaza Midwood, the dog bar with Ramos, his black lab, and a few nights of Netflix and dinner delivery sprinkled in. No matter what we do, I enjoy my time with him. It’s relaxing and exciting at the same time.

“Trent said he saw you with another man the same night you broke up with him. Is it the same guy, Madeline?” Suzanne asks. She’s really going at it.

I clear my throat. None of this looks good for me, but I can’t tell the girls about the agreement Erik and I have. I promised Mama I’d never say anything about what Trent did at the pool—which means I can’t tell anyone about any of the other times he hurt me either.

“It is. But we weren’t on a date. We were just having coffee. I’ve known him for years. We were catching up.”

“Who is it?” Lucy asks.

These women have been my friends for years. We hang out in the same circles, have the same friends and acquaintances. They’re assuming they’ll know the guy.

“His name is Erik.”

“What family is he from?” Mary Hill asks.

I shake my head. “No one you guys would know.”

Honestly, I don’t want to hold back regarding my relationship with Erik, but he’s the landscaper. I’m proud of Erik. He’s a hardworking, smart business owner. It doesn’t matter to me what occupation it is, but it certainly will to them. I hate that I care what they think, and that I’m trying to avoid that criticism. But I also know I have to make the relationship look real, and telling my family and friends is as real as it gets.

“Did you meet him at SCAD?” Lucy asks. I should have known they wouldn’t let it go easily. I usually gush about everything—and everyone.

My stomach tightens. I know I’ve done this same thing to them, but it doesn’t feel good to be on the receiving end of the interrogation. Especially with Suzanne shooting daggers at me from the other side of the table.

“No. He’s from Charlotte. But I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about right now. Suzanne is obviously uncomfortable and angry about a breakup that has nothing to do with her,” I say pointedly.

I can’t help but be a little snippy. I get it if she doesn’t understand, but I didn’t do anything wrong. And Suzanne and I were friends before I started dating Trent. I didn’t think our friendship hinged on me dating her brother.

“I’m not angry that you broke up. I’m angry that you started dating someone so quickly after the breakup.”

“Why does it matter? Things haven’t been good with Trent and I since he moved to Charlotte. You know that.” I swallow back the fear that tries to stop me from bringing up the truth, but I have to. Maybe I can’t talk about exactly what happened, but I’m not going avoid it. And I’m certainly not going to let her question my morals in front of our friends. “You’ve seen it.”

Suzanne immediately casts her eyes to the table. Her eyebrows aren’t knit together in anger anymore. She almost seems sorry.

Because she knows.

Suzanne has seen multiple instances of Trent’s verbal and emotional abuse. She was at dinner the night Trent pushed me into the window at my apartment. She watched me walk into a high-end restaurant to dine with his family with a beautiful scarf wrapped around my head to hide the gash her brother caused. She sat mute when he pointed out, in his condescending way, that the scarf was a piece from one of Commons’ new collections. His exact words were, “Isn’t it cute that she wears ‘fashion for the common man.’?” He purposely used my family store’s slogan to mock me as I was hiding the injury he caused.

Not being able to fully confide in Suzanne was one of the hardest parts of being in a relationship with her brother. No matter how much she claims she’ll be on my side, she won’t—as today shows. She’s been my best friend for years, but she’s been Trent’s sister for longer. She’ll always defend him. Family over everything. Blood over water. She’s already done it on multiple occasions. But that’s because Trent is just as angry and evil to her. It’s like he has issues with all women, not just girlfriends. Gaslighting seems to be a pattern for him.

“People break up. It came out of the blue, but it happens,” Lucy says. “And it’s still raw for everyone. It’s understandable. Let’s—”

“You thought it was out of the blue?” I ask.

Lucy doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Absolutely. Now that Trent has his law degree and is back in Charlotte, everyone thought you two would be engaged before the holidays.”

Didn’t anyone notice how Trent treated me? I thought I didn’t see the full scope because I was the one inside the relationship. But here are my best friends, telling me they thought the breakup was out of the blue.

My entire sense of self is slowly sliding away. Am I really this fake? Did I put on such a good show for everyone or are they choosing to see what they want to see?

After Trent and I had been dating for a few months, his compliments on my education and decision to go into the family business turned backhanded. I didn’t catch on to the switch until he began speaking down to me in public. Unfortunately, growing up around the number of self-centered, pompous, high-powered men that I have, I’ve heard many of them talk down to women. But when I became the one being talked down to—by my own boyfriend—I wasn’t amused. And yet, I let it happen. I brushed off his comments with a sweet smile because Mama taught me to keep the peace, especially in front of our friends and colleagues.

Which is exactly what I decide to do now with my friends. Instead of make a bigger deal of this entire situation, it’s time to sweep it under the rug like a good girl.

Realizing I’d been slightly slumped over, I adjust my posture and square my shoulders. I’m not too proud to be the bigger person here. “I’m sorry, Suzanne. I know this isn’t the ideal situation. But I’m being honest when I say I didn’t cheat on Trent. I’d like it if we could get past this. I know that may not happen today, but hopefully someday, because I value your friendship. I always have.”

Am I lying? A little, but not completely. I did value Suzanne’s friendship. We’ll never have the same closeness, because she’ll always be Trent’s sister and I never want to be near him—or even hear about him—again. Which is nothing but a dream with how connected our families are.

Suzanne shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize, Madeline. I do. It wasn’t my place to come in here with an attitude. What happened between you and Trent is your business. I’m sorry.”

We’re cut from the same cloth. We attended the same etiquette classes. We’re raised by the same type of women. We know how to behave in public. We know when to let things go.

We also know that our friendship will never be the same.

While three of us focus on our food, Mary Hill launches into the details of the upcoming vacation she and her husband are taking to St. Bart’s. It’s the subject change we needed to take the intensity down a notch.

By the end of lunch, I think I’ve gotten through with only a few minor scratches. Until Suzanne’s claws come out again as we’re walking out.

“It was lovely to see you ladies. I do enjoy our monthly lunches,” she says. Seems sweet enough.

“Same here,” Lucy agrees, sliding on oversized, cat-eye sunglasses.

“Madeline, it’s so funny, a friend of mine saw you out the other day. She said you were with a familiar face. Our lawn man—Erik.” There’s deliberate emphasis on the name.

“Wait,” Lucy says, her smile faltering. “Didn’t you say you were dating a guy named Erik? Are you dating the help?”

“He’s not ‘the help,’” I respond, using air quotes. “He owns the business. He has multiple—”

Lucy covers her mouth with her hands. Then, without listening to any of the words coming out of my mouth, continues, “But isn’t he all dirty and smelly?” She scrunches her nose. “Do his nails ever get clean?”

“Why don’t you ask your granddaddy that, Lucy?” I snap. “Didn’t he get all dirty and smelly after working on your family’s tobacco farms? Don’t tell me you forgot your roots now, girl.”

Lucy glares at me. “I know my roots well, Madeline. You don’t have to get defensive. It’s not becoming.”

“What did your parents say?” Mary Hill asks.

“I haven’t told my parents yet. As I said before, we’re just hanging out. It’s nothing serious.”

Suzanne stifles a laugh. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear the news. You traded a lawyer for a lawn boy. Sounds like you’re on the right track, Madeline.”

I take deep breath and hold my head high. “I ditched a horrible human for someone with a heart of gold. I’ve never been more excited about the track I’m on, thank you very much.”

Clutching the strap of my pocketbook, I stalk away from my friends. Mama is gonna have my hide for saying Trent is a horrible human, but I refuse to let Suzanne get away with a vicious remark. And it’s not like I went into detail about why he’s a horrible human. Let them fester over it.

There’s an indent in my hand from clutching my keys so tightly while walking to my car. I switch hands and shake it out. The security guard in front of the parking garage nods as I pass. Giving him a small smile, I pass quickly and head to the elevator.

My phone buzzes as soon as I reach the level where I left my car. A glance at the screen tells me it’s Mary Hill. I don’t know if I can take anymore from my “friends” right now, but I answer because not answering would be rude. It would also make it seem like I’m ashamed, and I’m not.

“Hey, Mary Hill!” I answer in a sickly-sweet voice.

“Madeline, I’m so sorry about how lunch ended,” she begins.

“Don’t worry about it.” I brush off the apology. Using my shoulder to hold the phone against my ear, I unlock the car door and swing it open. Once inside, I hook up my phone to the Bluetooth so I can talk and drive.

“I wasn’t surprised about you and Trent.”

“You weren’t?” I ask. Her admission surprises me so much, I have to pause from backing up and shift the car into park.

“No. I know everyone thought you two were a match made in heaven, but I never saw it working out long-term. You’re far too different. You’re bright and social and bubbly. He’s a boring, controlling curmudgeon.”

I laugh. Only Mary Hill uses words great like curmudgeon. She and Liz are probably the smartest people I know. Her vocabulary is one of her most endearing qualities. Though I will admit having to google some words she uses.

“Well, he is,” she confirms. “I don’t know what happened with that man. He’s so different than the rest of his family. His daddy is a social butterfly.”

“And far too handsy,” I add, relaxing into my seat. Mary Hill seems to understand my side of the story, which takes away a bit of the edginess I felt.

“Yeah, he’s the creepy old man people always talk about,” she agrees. “I just wanted to let you know that I understand. I mean, I don’t know exactly what happened with you guys, but I think I have a good concept of when things are for show and when they aren’t. I always thought your relationship with Trent was one of those engineered by family rather than attraction. I’m sorry if I’m out of line saying that,” she adds quickly.

“No! No, you’re absolutely right. I didn’t even want to go out with him, but you know how persistent my mama is.” I stare at the BMW logo on my steering wheel. When I turned in my last car, I wanted an Audi, but Trent wouldn’t let me. He said I needed a BMW to fit in at business meetings and social events. A car is a status symbol and another way I have to constantly prove mine. I thought Audi was a luxury brand; it just wasn’t the right brand.

Mary Hill laughs, but there’s a twinge of pity. Everyone knows how overbearing Mama is. It’s no secret. If there’s an issue or cause that needs a leader, she’s the first to volunteer. She’s also the first to speak her mind when others stay silent. Or maybe they stay silent because she’s so boisterous.

“Can I be completely honest with you, Mary Hill?” The question is just a formality. She’s one of the few friends I know who can keep a secret.

“Please do, Madeline.”

“I wish I had never gotten involved with Trent,” I tell her, staring out the window at a massive concrete column in the parking garage. It reminds me of the exposed concrete in my condo. I have a similar column in my kitchen. “When our parents pushed us together, it seemed like a match made in heaven—two powerhouse families in Charlotte merging. But I didn’t want to merge with Trent Anderson.”

The only reason I chose Trent to be my escort for my debutante functions is because the rules state: no boyfriends. An escort should be a well-mannered family friend or “pal.” Someone dependable, able to attend social events, and good to be seen with in society. Debutante is stressful enough without adding messy boyfriend drama.

Then our parents got involved. After seeing how well-received we were and how good we looked together, they started pressing for the match. I managed to hold them off until junior year of college, telling Mama it would be impossible to date because we attended universities two states away—we’d never see each other.

The irony? I finally gave in for that same reason. He was bearable in small doses, but I still had my life at school. Technically, we were dating, but due to distance, we rarely saw each other, and I liked it just fine. I had my own life, free of fear of what kind of bullshit he’d pull next. But not free of all fear, because he’d always find something to yell at me about, and make me feel like I was doing something wrong. Since he’s been back, it’s been almost a year of walking on eggshells. I knew he would fly off the handle—I just never knew when.

“I know, Madeline,” Mary Hill says. “I’m so sorry you’re getting negativity about the breakup. I hate that people think they have a right to have an opinion about your personal life. It shouldn’t be that way. Sometimes people aren’t meant to be together, no matter what the union can do for the family businesses. It’s sad that people in our circle still think in terms of arranged marriages, rather than love and companionship.”

I swallow back emotion. She gets it. Truly gets it. I didn’t think I’d have anyone to talk to about that part.

“I know my role in my family. I chose it.” I dab at one of my tear ducts with my ring finger. It felt like tears were starting to form and I can’t have that. There’s no way I’d return to work with red-rimmed eyes or smudged eyeliner.

It looked good for us to show up at social events together when we were both home in Charlotte. After graduating from law school, he moved back to work for his family’s company, and we were forced into spending more time together than I could stomach. Almost immediately, I longed for the days he was at Georgetown.

“You chose to get the education and experience you needed to take over Commons Department Stores, you remember that, Madeline. You didn’t choose to turn your personal life—and happiness—over to the man from the family that can do the most for the business. You are not a prostitute.”

“Dang, Mary Hill!”

“Too much?” she asks.

“No. It’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. Thank you for saying it.”

“I know it probably sounds lame coming from me, since I married the man my parents wanted me to, but—”

“Stop right there,” I interrupt her. “Our situations are completely different. You love Jackson with all your heart. There is no denying that.”

I can almost hear her smile on the other end of the line. “I do.”

Mary Hill met her husband during freshman orientation at the University of North Carolina, and they’ve been inseparable ever since. He’s from Durham originally, so he wasn’t in the Charlotte social circle. Their relationship grew from genuine friendship into love. It’s apparent to anyone who sees them.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything in front of Lucy and Suzanne. I just—I agreed with you when you said it wasn’t something to discuss right then. I knew Suzanne would make it about her. She always does.”

I bite back a laugh. That’s absolutely Suzanne. Taking every situation and bringing it back around to her. Even something that’s not her business.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the time. I’ve got to get back to the office soon. I have a phone call with one of our buyers in twenty minutes. “It’s okay. I appreciate your call. It means a lot to me.”

“I know you have to get back to work, but I have one more thing.”

“No rush, I can talk while I’m driving,” I say as I back out of my parking spot and start down the ramp toward the exit of the garage.

“Erik the landscaper is really, really hot. You get that, girl.”

“Oh my gosh!” I laugh.

“He is! I am so excited for you! Did I ever tell you that I had a huge crush on him when we were teenagers?”

“You did?” I’m not surprised, Erik has always been cute. I don’t think anyone was surprised he’s grown up to be as hot and muscular as he is.

“Heck yes!” she exclaims. “But I’m pretty sure every girl at any property he worked on did, even if they won’t admit it. You guys seemed like you had something going on back then. You gonna fess up now that you’re dating?”

Mary Hill’s prodding in a playful, silly way that I appreciate. That’s how friends are supposed to be. Not accusatory, like they’re digging for something to use against you.

When I get to the bottom floor of the parking deck, I stop at the gate to insert my ticket and pay. “We were friends, I guess. Nothing ever happened. We just talked a lot.”

“I knew there was something. You always had a sparkle in your eye when anyone mentioned seeing him.”

“You know how boy crazy I was back then.” I brush off her comment and toss my wallet onto the seat next to me.

“You were, but there was something more with Erik. You skipped your first day of college to attend Rusty Raines’s funeral.”

Rusty, Erik’s grandfather, worked at our property since before I was born; of course I’d attend his funeral. “Anyone would do that. His grandfather was like family.”

“No, Madeline, not anyone would do that. Very few of his clients went.”

Looking back, I guess I don’t remember who had attended. I’d directed all of my attention to Erik, sitting in the front row of the church alone. No one saw it coming when Rusty, who always seemed to be in fairly good shape and even better spirits, died suddenly from a massive heart attack. They’d put Ginny, Erik’s grandmother, in a nursing home just a few weeks before. It must have wrecked both of them, but neither Rusty nor Erik were trained nurses or caregivers. They did the best they could for as long as they could before it was too much. Her dementia had gotten so bad she couldn’t even attend the service.

“It seemed wrong to miss it when Rusty was like part of the family.”

“I bet Erik appreciated you being there.”

My car inches forward and I lean over the steering wheel, craning my neck to see if any cars are coming before making a left onto Fifth Street.

“We’ve never discussed it,” I say.

It’s the truth. We barely spoke after the funeral. I went to college and moved out of my parents’ house. We never met up behind our black walnut again. It hurt at first, but the searing pain of losing a friendship slowly faded into a dull ache. We both went on with our lives.

“Maybe now is a good time,” Mary Hill suggests earnestly. Then, in a more jovial tone, says, “Well, I’m off. I just got to the tailors to pick up a suit Jackson had altered, and you know Mr. Smythe will talk my ear off once I get in there.”

“Thanks again, Mary Hill. I really appreciate your call.”

I press a button to hang up the Bluetooth and “Open Your Heart” by Austin’s band, Drowned World, blasts through the speakers.

Open your heart. Open my heart. Open Erik’s heart.

After all these years, how do I bring up that painful day with Erik? During the few times we saw each other, our interactions were surface small talk. A wave and a hello. Maybe, “How’s school?” or “How’s it going?” I never asked Erik how he was handling the loss, or how his grandmother was doing, or if everything was going well with the business.

Deep down, the concern was there, but if I’m completely honest with myself, I was selfish. I wasn’t thinking about Erik and his loss anymore. I had school and internships in London and New York, and random social events on my mind. All of that was more important to me at the time. More important than a friend whose life had been devastated.

Everyone deserves a second chance, right? Every new life experience gives us an opportunity to learn and grow. Instead of focusing on the past, I’m committed to the future. It’s possible to change from the person I was to the person I want to be.