The Dirty Book Club(60)

Britt covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I had sex with Jules’s husband.”

“And Destiny’s father,” Addie added.

“It’s not funny! What if Jules finds out? What if they get divorced because of me? What if she tells Paul?”

“Paul?” Addie said. “I thought you two were done.”

“Done? He’s my husband.”

“But you’re fucking Jules’s husband.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“Sorry,” Addie said. “I meant to say Destiny’s dad.”

“This isn’t funny,” Britt said. “It’s like when I found out fat-free cookies were loaded with sugar. I had one thing that made me feel good, one thing to look forward to, and that thing turned out to be—”

“Destiny’s dad.”

Britt finally laughed. “I know what I did was awful and there’s no excuse but—”

“Here comes the excuse,” Addie said.

“But Paul treats me like an underdeveloped Polaroid—like I’m not fully there, you know? Then the Brazilian came along and suddenly I felt all colorful and seen. And as long as I had that, Paul could ignore me and get stoned as much as he wanted. I wouldn’t die from neglect, and our family would stay together. But now my fat-free cookies belong to Jules, Paul’s hairless balls are slapping against someone else’s ass, and I’ve got nothing.”

“You could keep seeing him,” M.J. said, because that’s what Dr. Cohn would have done. Offer up the unthinkable so it could be rejected. Then they could move on.

“Never!” Britt said, much to M.J.’s relief. “I have to tell her. I mean, I can’t not say anything.” She took a swig of wine. “Can I?”

“Sometimes people are better off not knowing.” Addie rested a hand on her belly. “Does anyone else smell that?”

“Don’t worry,” M.J. assured her. “It happens when you’re pregnant. My coworker’s farts were so toxic we moved her desk to the stairwell.”

“No, it’s those nachos,” Addie pointed at a passing waiter’s tray.

“Wait, you’re pregnant?” Britt asked.

“And unemployed and homeless and—” Addie lurched forward, cupped a hand over her mouth, and bolted for the bathroom.

“Is she serious?”

“Found out yesterday,” M.J. told her. “After she got fired for handing out vibrators.”

“And the baby?”

“David Golden’s.”

“And the bookstore?”

“Still trashed.”

Had it not been for a recent Botox injection, Britt’s eyebrows would have shot straight past her scalp. “Does David know?”

“He said something today that made me think she told him. Anyway, she doesn’t know what she’s going to do, or maybe she does and she doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t know.”

Addie returned—lips freshly glossed—and downed some water that may or may not have been hers. She lowered the glass like a guillotine. “Get this baby out of me,” she said. Then to M.J., “You’re annoying.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Addie told her. “You’re a decent person and right now I find that annoying.”

Britt nodded in agreement. “It’s true. You would never have an affair or get—” She tilted her head in the general direction of Addie’s uterus. “You’re just solid.”

The way they said it made it sound like an insult. As if a criminal record was required to ride with their girl gang.

“I may be good from afar, but I am far from good,” M.J. said, because she had just as many reasons to be annoyed by good people as they did. But to air Dan’s pesky little obsession with saving lives and expect the kind of sympathy one might get from, say, an unwanted pregnancy or a doomed marriage, was a fool’s game. No one liked the skinny girl with the hot doctor boyfriend whose biggest fault is “he cares too much.” But she did sign Gayle’s contract behind Dan’s back and there was nothing “good” about that.

“Want to know how indecent I am?”

They absolutely did.

“I took my old job back in New York and didn’t tell Dan.”

Addie cocked her head. “You’re going back to New York?”

Britt’s dimple pulsed. “When?”

“September,” M.J. said.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m scared he’ll never talk to me again.”

“No,” Britt said. “Why didn’t you say anything to us?”

“I didn’t think you’d care.”

Silence pulled up a stool and sat between them until Britt smacked the bar.

“Damn it,” she said. “I was supposed to be an age-defying stay-at-home mom with overachieving kids, a house that smelled like organic cleaning products, and a successful husband who found my aging body sexy. And what did I get? Destiny’s dad, a living room that reeks of skunk, twins who won’t kiss me in public, a career pimping houses, and a trash can full of pubes. This is it, folks. This is my life.” She pointed at the three women seated directly across from them. “See those sad hags over there? That’s going to be us in ten years, and then what?”