Page 53 of Buttons

I laugh. “Good idea. I should book an appointment as part of my grant submission celebration.”

Sarah high-fives me as we step outside into the light rain. “Heck yeah!”

We part ways at the corner, Sarah heading to her art studio, me toward the shelter for my afternoon shift. As I walk, I notice my reflection in a shop window. I barely recognize myself, and it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world.

Chapter 22

Julian

Iarrive fifteen minutes early and request the corner table. It’s got not only a strategic view of both entrances but also a clear escape route if needed. I doubt I’ll need it though. Carmella is dignified.

The server brings water without asking. No matter. This isn’t a cause for celebration; it’s a graceful disconnection between two friends.

I silently rehearse my speech while I wait. Be direct, but not cruel. Firm but respectful. Final without being dramatic.

She appears exactly on time. Of course she does. Carmella enters like she’s stepping onto a runway. Her red dress hugs curves that have graced corporate magazine covers. Three men at the bar turn to watch her progress across the room. A server nearly collides with a busboy.

She sees me, and her face transforms with a smile that used to be a highlight reel in my indecisive moments in college.

“Julian, you look wonderful.”

I don’t return the compliment. Instead, I nod and wait for her to sit before retaking my own seat.

“Thank you for coming,” I say.

“I’d never miss a dinner invitation from you. Especially after all the drama over the past few months. I ran into your ex-wife, and—”

“Elowen is mywife,” I interrupt. “We’re not divorced or even legally separated.”

“Uh, okay,” she stammers. “Either way, she was quite inappropriate.”

Be direct, I remind myself. Don’t get pulled in or off topic. So I don’t let Carmella change the topic. I don’t care if Elowen was what Carmella deems ‘inappropriate.’

I simply say, “Leave my wife alone.”

The server materializes to take our drink orders. The water is fine for me, but Carmella requests a dirty martini with extra olives.

“No wine tonight?” she asks when the server departs. “That’s not like you. Do you have a board meeting tomorrow?”

“I need clarity for this conversation.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is.” I straighten the knife beside my plate, aligning it perfectly parallel with the edge of the table. “I need to be direct about something, Carmella.”

She reaches across the table, her fingertips brushing my forearm. “You know you can tell me anything, Julian. That’s always been our strength, hasn’t it? Complete honesty.”

The irony almost makes me laugh. I subtly shift my forearm out of reach. “Our friendship needs to end.” I say it directly, without preamble or cushioning words.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been unfair to you, and to Elowen. Maintaining our connection all these years undermined my marriage in ways I’m only now beginning to understand.”

The server returns with our drinks, creating a momentary pause in the conversation. Carmella’s smile for him is automatic. When he leaves, that smile vanishes.

“You think cutting me out will convince Elowen you’ve changed,” she says flatly.

“No.” I take a sip of my water. “I mean, yes, I want her back, but that’s not why I’m doing this.”