When you’re wasting your talent and forgoing your passion, life moves faster than you even realize it does.

One moment, you’re a bright-eyed young worker who dreams of starting his own company someday. Who sketches masterpieces of homes in his spare time, and who researches all sorts of building techniques and home design concepts.

And then you wake up one day with ten years gone, your youth spent, and realize that you’ve not done shit with your life.

That’s what happened to me. I work for an asshole of a boss, whose style and work ethic are idiotic and morally questionable. My dreams go unchased, and inside, I’m miserable.

Could my lack of professional fulfillment have led to the dissolution of our marriage? Could Imogen sense how unhappy I was? They, whoever they are, say that some of the best marriages head for divorce because of issues at work being brought home. That one spouse’s misery as an employee drives the other spouse to call it quits, simply for the fact that they can’t stand to hear about or be around the unhappiness that their partner’s work brings to everyday life.

As I loosen the tie strangling my neck on the drive home from my hellhole of an office, I think that’s probably an accurate statement. Because when I pull into my driveway, none of the stress of my day has melted away. And normally, I’d have gone into the house and unloaded all of my problems onto Imogen.

How long had I been shoving my professional problems down my wife’s throat?

I walk into my living room to find Nicole and Ozzie, and their daughter, Odette.

“Uh … hey everyone.” I cough, the scene kind of surreal.

First of all, it’s strange that these people are in the living room that Imogen and I once shared. Not only because we’re no longer a couple, but also, because I know for a fact that before our breakup, Imogen and Nicole hadn’t spoken for months. Immy had made herself sick over their fight … and it was just another brick in the wall that was put up in our marriage.

“Theo!” Imogen practically jumps. “I thought you were going to Nantucket for the rest of the week.”

I was, until Nathan Toxell decided to put me on some random project and demanded it be finished by the end of the month.

Was she trying to hide their visit from me or something? “I had a project come up at work.”

Imogen tilts her head and frowns, and I know instantly that she knows how much this project will annoy me.

Ozzie stands, coming toward me and wrapping me in a hug. “Theo, my man, great to see you. It’s been too long.”

Before all of this, Ozzie and I had been buddies. He was a little more dramatic, naturally being a theater director, than I was, but we shared a love of the Patriots and a good stout beer. For years, the four of us had double dated, gone on vacation a few times, and I’d gone with Im to the hospital after Odie was born.

“Theo.” Nicole rises with the baby in her arms, and they both hug me.

If you took our divorce out of the equation, this might be a fun night hanging with old friends. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed this.

“Stay for a drink, man. Discuss this wide receiver situation with me because I’m dumbfounded.” Ozzie laughs and Nicole nods vigorously.

“Oh, I don’t think—” Imogen starts, her whole expression colored with panic.

But I’m not letting her dictate what I do. Not this time. “I’d love to. What’re we having? You know what, let me fire up the grill … I have some flank steaks I can put on.”

My wife looks like I just punched a hole in the wall, she’s that shocked. But our friends don’t miss a beat, and by the twinkle in Nicole’s eye, I think she’s planning something.

Good. Maybe she can talk some sense into her best friend.

Ten minutes later, I’ve changed out of the monkey suit and am standing in front of the grill, a beer in one hand and a spatula in the other.

“Listen, maybe we don’t need another receiver, because we have the best quarterback in the league,” Ozzie reasons with me, the baby on one hip, playing with his beard.

It’s cold, and we’re all bundled just to be able to stand outside, but the chilly air is refreshing.

I flip the top down on the grill and set my drink down, motioning for him to give me Odie. The baby comes happily, examining my beer as I adjust her in my arms. She giggles when I tickle her side, moving in close to rub my scratchy beard on her cheek.

There is no sound better in the world … except for maybe the noises my wife makes in our bedroom. I imagine a baby girl who looks just like Imogen, and my stomach clenches. A baby would have brought our life such joy. I feel, truly feel, deep down where the pain and darkness lurks, how horrible our loss was. I’m not sure Imogen realizes that I mirror her hurt, too.

Looking up, Immy is staring at me as I play with Odette. Our eyes connect and hold, sadness lurking in her big green pools.

I clear my throat, turning back to Ozzie. “Yeah, but he won’t be here forever. We need to start making contingency plans.”

“Contingency plans, listen to this man!” Ozzie laughs and drains his beer, then walks off to, I assume, get a new one.

Nicole and Imogen have been sitting next to the fire pit that I lit earlier, having a conversation that I can’t hear.

“I’m going to start preparing the sides. Anyone need anything before I go in?” Imogen stands.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” I tell her, and our guests nod the same.

On her way in, she passes me, then stops. Turning, she smirks at me … before stealing the baby right out of my arms.

“Hey! I was holding her.” I pout.

“And now it’s my turn. She told me she wanted to be warm, inside, with her godmommy.” She walks briskly away with Odie in tow.

I can’t help but laugh at her hijacking my baby time.

“You two would make wonderful parents, you know.” Nicole sidles up to me.

“Oh, now, Nic … I know you can’t be that insensitive. You were there through all of it, we can’t have a baby. And don’t play dumb and pretend you don’t know that we’re splitting up.”

She chuckles. “You were always more like me than she was. That’s why I like you, Theo Walsh. I could always count on you, knowing that Imogen had someone realistic and sarcastic by her side every day when I couldn’t be.”

I open the top of the grill, the sizzling delicious smell of steak wafting out. “Well, now you’ll have to be the one to watch out for her.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t think so fast, buddy.” Nicole’s grin is sly and loaded with meaning.

“Unless you know something I don’t, I’d say there is no chance of reconciliation. She’s changing her name, Nic.” I flip the steaks with my spatula.

She makes a psh sound before hitting me on the arm. “Honey, that girl is a Walsh, and she’ll wise up before the legal paper’s go through. If I have anything to say about it, you’ll be back together by Christmas. Because … I do know something you don’t. And I’m trying like all hell to put her on blast, but she needs to open up in her own time.”

My ears perk up. “What do you know?”

“Ah, no you don’t. I may like you and even want her to get back together with you … but she’s still my best friend. All I’m saying is … don’t give up just yet.”

Nicole doesn’t give me any other advice as she walks into the house, leaving me alone in my freezing cold backyard cooking steaks.

Curiosity pricks the back of my neck.

What is Imogen keeping from me now?