I care about Lucas very much. Maybe even too much . . . Gia. She smoothed it back down.

After making rounds among our friends, I headed to the bar for a fresh martini. I spotted him sitting on one of the barstools. His back was toward me, but I could tell by the width of his shoulders and the cut of his hair that he was going to be beautiful. I slid into the available seat next to him and shot him a look out of the corner of my eye. I noticed the strong jaw first. You could crack walnuts on that jaw. His nose was kind of weird, but not in an unattractive way. The bridge was curved, a slight bend in the road. It was elegant, the way an old revolver would be. His lips were too sensual for a man. If it were not for his nose — that incredibly elegant nose — his face would have been too pretty. I waited a few customary minutes for him to look at me, normally I didn’t have to work very hard to garner male attention, but when he didn’t, I cleared my throat. His eyes, which had been focused on the television above the bar, turned slowly toward me like I was an imposition. They were the color of maple syrup if you held it up to the light. I waited for him to get that lucky look that all men got on their faces when they stumbled upon my attention. It didn’t come.

I know. I think that all the time. She was looking at her shoes, avoiding my eyes.Were you in love with him?

Her head shot up, and she laughed. No, she said, firmly. She was being dismissive, but that confession hurt me more than anything else she’d said.It would have been so much better if you’d said yes, I said, softly. My heart was starting to ache. So, you hurt me, hurt my child, hurt George—all for a couple fucks? It didn’t even mean anything to you.I mean, I loved him, sure, like a friend, she rushed. We were very good friends. He was already cheating on you, Bad—Jolene. I wasn’t the only one.

You didn’t know that at the time. You can’t use that as justification. You can’t use anything as justification.I’m not! I came here to say sorry!

You coming here doesn’t have anything to do with people finding out about what you did? Say, the authors whose websites you design?

She feigned shock. No! How could you say that?She was twisting my words, trying to make me sound crazy. That was the danger of seeing a therapist.

I drove toward my neighborhood, I said. After the park. They live really close.I thought the matter would be settled, but her eyes were drilling into me.

So you didn’t follow them to their house and sit outside for hours in order to see the little girl’s father?I did park, I said. I already told you that. I was curious.