Page 6 of Buttons

I still don’t understand his reasoning. We’re not selling, and even if we were, the sectional wouldn’t stay with the house, anyway.

No one else seems to find the holes. Gage nods approvingly. “Always thinking ahead.”

“It’s gray-blue,” I clarify, but they’ve already moved on.

“Speaking of forward thinking,” Trey says, “remember that time we road-tripped to Lake Michigan, and Jules had packed emergency supplies for every possible disaster?”

The table dissolves into stories I wasn’t part of. There are inside jokes about professors I never had, about people I’ve never met. He was a senior when I was a freshman studying business administration, and we had an entirely different circle of friends. We hadn’t even properly met until after college. I sip my wine, nodding and smiling at appropriate times. Julian’s hand remains on my waist, his thumb occasionally stroking my side, but his attention is fully absorbed in reliving his glory days.

“God, and then Carmella showed up in that red bikini,” Trey continues, whistling low.

“Some things never change,” Gage says, his eyes meeting Carmella’s for a moment.

I reach for my wine again and find the glass empty. When did that happen? I signal the waitress for another, adjusting my blouse as I do. It suddenly feels too tight, though I know it’s not.

My second glass arrives as Trey orders another round of drinks for the table. The whiskey is flowing freely now, his volume increasing with each pour. His gestures grow more expansive, his laugh more explosive. Julian matches him glass for glass, his hand on my waist gradually loosening as the alcohol takes hold.

When a momentary lull hits the conversation, I notice Trey’s eyes have taken on a mischievous gleam. His words are slurring now. Three rounds ago, he was just loud, but now he’s sloppy.

“Hey, you know what?” Trey raises his glass, pointing it vaguely in my direction. “I just remembered the funniest story from the good old days about you two.”

Julian shifts beside me, his shoulders stiffening.

“Trey, maybe now’s not the time,” he says. His voice is casual, but I feel the tension radiating from him.

The others sense it, too. Gage suddenly becomes fascinated with the label on his beer bottle. A woman whose name I can never remember from Julian’s economics seminar in college studies the ceiling.

They know something I don’t. And they know exactly what story Trey is referring to.

“No, no, this is good.” Trey waves away Julian’s objection. “Did Ellie ever hear about how you two actually got together?”

My smile freezes in place. Even Carmella raises a brow, a question forming on her face.

“Actually, Trey,” Julian interjects, his corporate smile still in place but failing to reach his eyes, “how’s the new position going? You were telling me about that project in Olympia.”

Trey dismisses Julian’s diversion with a flap of his hand. “Too boring to discuss. Let’s go with classic Jules instead.”

A muscle jumps just below Julian’s ear. I’ve seen that look before, when a deal is going sideways, when someone challengeshim in a board meeting. I’ve never seen it directed at his friends. Or because of me.

“So, Jules here,” Trey continues, leaning toward me conspiratorially, “was totally torn between Ellie and Carm.”

My heart lurches. I stare at Julian, but he won’t meet my eyes.

“You know our boy,” Trey says with drunken affection. “Always the logical asshole. Anyway, he does what any normal person would do when deciding between two women.”

I find my voice. “What’s that?”

“He made this brutal pro-con list!” Trey howls with laughter, spilling whiskey on the table. “Color-coded and everything. I swear to God, I saw it with my own eyes.”

My fingernails dig into my palm under the table. Eight years of marriage. Two children. A shared home, shared name, shared life—all of it suddenly feeling cruel.

“It wasn’t like that,” Julian says, forcing a chuckle that doesn’t match his eyes. “You know how Trey gets. He’s exaggerating.”

“Am not!” Trey protests. “You showed me the damn spreadsheet. There were entries and everything. ‘Carmella: Family connections. Elowen: Organized.’ Remember?”

Someone at the far end of the table tries to change the subject to football, but Trey steamrolls over them, his momentum unstoppable now.

“We all thought he’d go for Carm,” Trey continues, gesturing sloppily toward Carmella. “They’d been dancing around each other for months.”