He looked at me.
“When did you become a therapist?”
“After years of listening to you complain about your dating life.”
He laughed despite himself.
Then his expression grew serious.
“Thanks for tonight.”
I clapped him on the shoulder.
“Anytime.”
I didn’t know it then, but Michael had noticed something during that dinner.
He had noticed that I no longer automatically agreed with him.
And he had begun to suspect that Karen and I were closer than he wanted us to be.
He would soon use that suspicion against us.
The Night Our Friendship Began to Break
By the fourth month of Karen’s separation, our conversations had changed.
We still talked about the bookstore, Daniel, and the endless complications of divorce proceedings.
But there were moments when silence felt more intimate than conversation.
One Saturday, I helped Karen carry boxes into her new store.
The lease had been signed, the walls painted, and the first shipment of books was due the following week.
