Good for You: A Novel (69)

Aly had to admit that her friend had a point.

Harry continued. “Now, maybe he would have done things differently if he had another chance, but we have to assume that he was doing the best he could at the time.”

Bless him. With one simple word—we—he’d already reminded her that she wasn’t alone.

“All that said,” he added, “you do need to fix this while there’s still a chance.”

“How?” she moaned. “I don’t think I’m fixable, Harry. I’m pretty much broken beyond repair.”

“Aly, I said fix it—not yourself. You’re not broken. I understand that you truly believe that story about yourself—and I also know there’s nothing I can say that’s going to get you to let go of it and start telling another one. But may I give you one small piece of advice?”

“Always.”

“Go watch the video.”

“You watched it, too?” A rush of shame-induced nausea came over her. Of course, Harry would love her regardless. But also . . . she didn’t want him to see her like that.

“I went to look for it the second you mentioned it existed.”

“Wait—it’s been up this entire time?” said Aly.

“Not sure, but when you told me that James had seen it, I knew it would be up sooner or later—that’s just the nature of these things. So I kept searching for it, and eventually spotted it the day before your coworker told you someone had posted it. How the hell else was I going to protect you if I didn’t know what we were dealing with?”

So that was why he hadn’t sounded surprised when she told him it was live.

“Thank you,” she said, and she was starting to feel a little less mortified. “But . . . I still don’t get why I have to watch it.”

“Just do it, okay? I feel like it might give you some insight on . . . Well, you’ll see.”

“You’re an odd one, Horatio Medellin.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m going to text and call about four hundred times over the next week, so be expecting it.”

“You’re also the best.”

“Best friend? Yes, yes, I am. Love you.”

He really was the best, Aly thought to herself. And she was incredibly grateful to have him in her life.

But as she looked toward the driveway, only to confirm that Wyatt’s SUV was still missing, she couldn’t help but wish that someone else was making her feel less alone.



Aly had clicked the “Play” button no fewer than ten times. Yet each time the video began, and she saw herself jabbing a finger in the air at Meagan and Ashleigh, the latter of whom appeared to be off camera, she immediately pressed “Stop.”

Because although Aly and Cindy bore little physical resemblance to each other, damned if she wasn’t the spitting image of her mother hollering at her and Luke.

How could this possibly be helpful? To see herself traumatized and losing her job—even if Innovate wasn’t framing it that way. Harry must have read an article about aversion therapy on one of those health websites that never cited their sources. There really was no other explanation for him insisting she watch the video.

The sun was setting when she finally summoned the courage to watch the whole thing. This time, she hadn’t poured herself any bourbon, nor had she taken an allergy pill or even tried deep breathing. Instead, she sat on the back porch, phone in hand, and stared at the woman having a tantrum on the screen . . . who happened to be her.

“You’re the beach!” she yelled at Meagan.

“Me?” said Meagan, shooting her a look that could have melted glass. “Give me a break.”

“You give me a ducking break!” cried Aly.

But of course, she didn’t say ducking, and her face seemed . . . wrecked.

Except Aly didn’t remind herself of her mother anymore. She looked like someone else, even if she couldn’t put her finger on who, exactly.

On camera, she continued yelling. “You know my brother just died. And you know you’re the only person I told. You could have backed me up in there, Meagan. Or even here!” she said, waving her hands around.

“What? Your brother died?” said Ashleigh, but Aly had cut her off to yell at Meagan.

“Instead, you accuse me of letting All Good fall to pieces? Well, news flash!” Aly was shouting now. “That has zippity-do-da-day to do with me and everything to do with a management team who continues to chip away at our lousy little salaries and cut back on resources while they keep their expense accounts and assistants and ignore the fact that the media landscape is changing and we—and by we, I mean every single person at Innovate—have to change with it if we’re going to survive. That is why the magazine is failing. And by sitting here and gossiping about me, knowing full well I’m living through the worst possible time in my entire life—which, by the way, is saying a whole lot for a girl whose father used to beat the crap out of her—instead of lending me a hand or at least keeping your mouth shut, you’re making it even worse.” At this point in the video, Meagan was silent and regarding her with . . . No, it wasn’t disbelief. It almost looked like relief.

As she sat on the porch, ignoring the mosquitos feasting on her limbs, Aly suddenly realized who she reminded herself of. A few years back, she’d seen a video on social media in which a coyote accidentally wandered into a sandwich shop in downtown Chicago. As she watched her own eyes dart around the salad place, seeming to look for an exit, she realized she looked exactly like that coyote had.