Mackenzie had confirmed their suspicions. Annabel wasn’t sure how exactly. All she’d mentioned was something about using one of CeCe’s sources unbeknownst to her. But, either way, Piper had been right. Lillian Duffy was playing for the other team. She wasn’t Henry’s ace in the hole. She was Digitcorp’s. And she wasn’t in a romantic relationship with Henry—although who knew how far she’d taken her deception? She was, quite to the contrary, Brett Myland’s girlfriend. Brett Myland, the CEO of Digitcorp.
Annabel almost felt sorry for Henry. Almost. Certainly she didn’t want Lillian and her cohorts to destroy his company. That said, if he’d taken her to bed, it would be a wee bit challenging for her to sympathize with his predicament. In any case, she’d called Henry early that morning. He’d been alone, or so it had sounded. She’d asked him if it would be possible for his sister to take the kids for the night so that they could talk privately. Annabel had been surprised that he’d seemed eager, if not excited, to do so. He’d even offered to bring over dinner, which she’d said would be fine with her.
If she were being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure what she expected as the outcome of their conversation. Or, more to the point, what she wanted the outcome to be. A few months ago, she would have jumped at the opportunity to share this kind of salacious information with Henry. Even if it meant implicating herself and her friends as stalkers, it would have been worth it in order to incriminate Lillian. To stick it to her for duping Henry into God knows what. She’d had nothing to lose back then. Only now things felt different. She felt different. Annabel was no longer desperate to hold on to him at all costs. Nor was she delusional enough to believe that he’d come running home to her so they could resume their lives as a happyish family of four, merely because she’d helped him out. If anything, he’d be presenting their divorce papers along with their takeout tonight. He’d had them for weeks, though, and, for whatever reason, had forgotten to bring them with him every time they’d seen each other to exchange the kids. All she had to do was sign on the dotted line to officially pronounce herself single and unattached, although, truth be told, she’d been feeling that way for a while now.
There was also the possibility that Henry could be angry with her. Or, perhaps, think she was lying in order to delay the finalization of their split. After all, she had spent the better part of the past six months having him trailed by a couple of amateur sleuths. Still, those amateurs had discovered what no one else had. And that in and of itself should be worth its weight in goodwill.
The primary thing Annabel was thankful for was the fact that with the passage of time, she’d finally moved past her anger to discover that all of her cursing, all of her tears, all of the times she’d punched her pillow in rage had been cathartic. She’d needed a means of releasing her inner demons, a way of cleansing and purifying. That said, she realized she couldn’t go on like this forever, although it had seemed unlikely that she’d ever turn a corner. Yet she had. She’d stepped out of the darkness and into the light of her future.
At the moment, Annabel had no idea what her next steps would be. Whether she should return to work in some capacity. Or if she’d ever meet someone new and have a second chance at love. But, for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care. She’d made peace with her reality, thanks, in large part, to Mackenzie and Piper’s friendship. Of course, the irony wasn’t lost on her that her older friends—the mothers at Harper and Hudson’s school, the women she’d known for five, ten years from various chapters in her life—had crawled into the cracks of the woodwork during her separation, never to appear again, while her new friends had stepped up to support her. Piper and Mackenzie had become her people. The ones she called crying in the middle of the night. The ones who materialized at her front door at a moment’s notice when they detected even the slightest note of sadness in her voice. She’d learned so much from leaning on them. She’d learned to be her own person. To take responsibility for her mistakes and to face her fears, even if it meant stumbling like a fool along the way.
She had no idea why she hadn’t noticed how lost she’d been the past few years. To give him some credit, Henry must have seen it. In his own selfish way, he’d known that things weren’t right. And he’d done something about it. Maybe not in the most gentle way, but perhaps he’d given her the push she’d needed, albeit in the only way he could manage. And now she could do him a favor in return.
When the doorbell rang, Annabel was putting the finishing touches on a peach cobbler Mackenzie had taught her to make. She’d been shocked by how simple it was to create something that looked and tasted so professional without a lot of effort. And she’d figured that since Henry had offered to bring dinner, the least she could do was whip up something for dessert. Plus, it couldn’t hurt to ply him with sweets before delivering such sour news.
“Come in,” she bellowed as she slid the cobbler into the oven, and set the timer for thirty minutes. She heard the door close, and soon after Henry appeared before her, looking disheveled and downtrodden. Annabel could always tell he was really worried about something when his forehead remained steadily furrowed.
“Hey.” He hoisted the plastic bags he was holding onto the kitchen island and dropped himself onto one of the barstools, instinctively hunching his back.
“What’s wrong?” Annabel slipped the pot holders off her hands and sat down next to him, turning her chair to face his.
“It’s all falling apart, Annie.” As soon as he finished speaking, he pressed his fingertips into his closed eyelids. “I’m going to lose everything. And for once I can’t figure out why. For the life of me, I can’t fucking figure out what’s going on.”
“I assume you’re talking about work?”
“Mostly.” He looked up at her, and she could see the pain behind his gaze. She hadn’t planned to bring it up first thing. She’d figured maybe they could eat first. Partake in a little cobbler, and then she’d broach the difficult subject. Henry was typically more forgiving when his stomach was full.
“Can you tell me about it?”
“There’s not much to tell. Digitcorp has managed to get their hands on information that was completely confidential, and I have no idea how. I practically strip-searched everyone at the company.” Annabel cringed at the thought of him strip-searching Lillian. “Well, not really, but you know what I mean. I had to.”
“Listen, I need to tell you something.” Annabel started to unburden herself.
“Right, sorry. But is there any way it can wait? Just ten minutes. I need to clear my mind, if that’s even possible.”
“Actually, not really. It has to do with this,” she continued, treading carefully and watching his reaction.
“With my Digitcorp deal?” He was rightfully confused.
“Sort of.” Annabel crinkled her nose and pressed her lips together before she started speaking again. “I mean, yeah. It does.”
“Annie, what are you talking about?”
“I know who the mole is.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said, I know who the mole is. The person who’s sabotaging you and the company.”
“Okay.” He was dubious, she could tell.
“It’s Lillian.” There—she’d said it. She’d expected the unveiling to be more gratifying, but it wasn’t.
“Lillian Duffy?”
“The one and only.”
“Dare I ask why you think this?”
“It’s kind of a long story.”
“I’m ready to listen.” And so he did. Intently. As she outlined everything for him, from the day she’d decided to enlist Piper and then Mackenzie to catch him in the act of an affair right up to her suspicions about Lillian, which had led to Piper’s hypothesis and finally Mackenzie’s confirmation.
“So, there you have it.” At first he was quiet. Eerily so.
“I don’t know what to say.” He shook his head. “First of all, I want you to know that I never cheated on you. I would never . . .” He trailed off, presumably still scandalized by the totality of her discovery and all that she’d admitted to him.
“Piper saw you kissing Lillian in the parking lot of Templeton’s.” She shrugged. “It’s okay, Henry. If that was the first time, you didn’t do anything wrong. We were already separated. I’m over it,” she lied.
“Oh, Annie.” He took his hands in hers. “Not only was that the first time; it was the one and only time. And let me say I was caught completely off guard. I never had any romantic intentions toward Lillian. For lack of a better word, she kind of mauled me. I guess now I know why.”
“That’s nice to hear.” Annabel smiled. She still didn’t like the mere idea that Henry’s lips had so much as touched another woman’s. But she’d come to a point where details like that were no longer destructive to her ongoing evolution as a more understanding person. “I thought you might be pissed about the stalking.”
“I’m not thrilled about it,” he laughed. “But do you have any idea what your discovery means for me? For us?”
“I’m not entirely sure.”
“Let me tell you, then.” He leaned in toward her. “You, Annabel Ford, have just saved my company. You have, quite literally, obliterated every negative thing that’s been going on for the past few months.” He paused. “Well, all except one.”
“What’s that?”
“Our divorce.”
“Do you have the papers?”
“I do.”
“I’m ready to sign.” One involuntary sob caught in her throat and she pushed it back down. She wouldn’t cry. She’d promised herself that much. At least not until he was gone. Annabel had thought she’d made peace with the situation. After all, she’d come so far since the day Henry had declared their status as a married couple over and done with. To both her astonishment and gratification, she’d learned to exist in the moment more with her family and friends, to balance the stresses and responsibilities of raising two children with moments of joy. And she’d learned to slow down and to relax her standards for household perfection by acknowledging to herself that if everything wasn’t perfect all the time, the world would not come to a screeching halt. What was more, she’d realized that she was overlooking the things in her life that deserved a lot more of her attention and appreciation, like spending quality time with her husband and children. But that didn’t matter now. Regardless of how far she’d come, this was still where they had ended up.
“I don’t want you to.” Without warning he cupped her face in his hands. “I love you, Annie. I made a mistake. I never should have left.”
“What? No, you’re just happy about the stuff with the company. I don’t want you to confuse the two things.”
“Oh, I’m not confused. I’m not confused at all. I’ve been feeling this way for a couple of months now. Why do you think I keep forgetting to bring over the papers?” He kissed her on the lips. “I’ve been so wrapped up with everything at work that there never felt like the right time to tell you. And you seemed so independent and content without me. But I know how much I love you. More than ever. I don’t want to lose you, Annie. I don’t want to lose our family.” Then he kissed her more passionately, and for a moment her head spun.
“I’m . . . not sure how to respond.”
“Tell me you love me too.”
“I do. I love you too.” She let him hug her close.
“Music to my ears.” Henry was nearly giddy. “I’m not exactly sure where to go from here, but we’ll figure it out. I promise you that. For now . . .” He paused briefly.
And allowing herself the freedom to let things play out as they would, she finished his sentence. “We eat cobbler.”
• • •
“So the cobbler was yummy?” Mackenzie shoveled a heaping spoonful of granola into her mouth.
“That’s your takeaway? Really?” Piper tilted her head to one side as if analyzing her. “Annabel just told us that she and Henry are back together and that, for all intents and purposes, he never actually cheated on her.”
“Well, I’m obviously thrilled about that.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “Is it so wrong that I want to make sure my recipe was up to snuff?”
“For the record, it was delicious,” Annabel confirmed. “We skipped dinner altogether. I think Henry was pretty surprised that I’d actually made it, but aside from that, it was perfection. And super easy. I had no idea baking could be so fun.”
“Welcome to my world.” Mackenzie spoke through a full mouth.
“Was it me, or was that instructor tougher than usual?” Piper picked at a piece of her blueberry muffin. They’d all decided to meet for an exercise class at eight in the morning and then have breakfast afterward at Café Crunch, their regular stomping ground.
“Totally. She’s the new weekend girl. I heard she used to teach a spin class in town. My ass already hurts.” Mackenzie shifted in her chair.
“I could never spin.” This from Annabel. “It’s too cultish.”
“Completely,” Mackenzie agreed. “One of my old friends from New York City used to do it. They all have their specific bikes and, apparently, if you’re new and you take someone’s spot, it’s tantamount to holding them at gunpoint and mugging them.”
“I could never be that serious about working out,” Piper declared. “It’s a minor miracle I’ve committed myself for this long.”
“Well, it’s good that your mind is more motivated than your body.” Annabel took a slow sip of her coffee. “You saved Henry’s company.”
“It was a team effort,” Piper offered modestly, despite her huge, proud grin.
“Maybe so, but you were the one who connected the dots.”
“Actually, I’d say we have Fern’s obsession with Charlotte’s Web to thank for that!”
“Speaking of people believing everything they see in print . . .” Mackenzie smirked. “I have a little idea of my own.”
“Do tell!” Annabel was immediately intrigued.
“Okay, so I was thinking that Piper should write an article for the Journal about Henry’s company and how the Digitcorp deal went down the tubes as a result of their underhanded deception.”
“I like that!” Annabel’s eyes widened with anticipation.
“I like that too,” Piper agreed. “As long as you think I can do it justice.”
“Are you kidding?” Mackenzie asked. “You’re an amazing journalist, and what better way to flex your creative muscles than to expose your friend’s husband’s sworn enemy?’
“Sworn enemy?” Annabel laughed.
“I told you I watch a lot of crime shows on television.” Mackenzie pilfered a piece of bacon off Annabel’s plate.
“Hey, watch it,” Annabel teased.
“What? I’m saving you calories.”
“I’m not counting calories anymore. That was stupid and pointless.”
“Well, I’m glad you finally came to your senses there.”
“Seriously, though, it would be nice to stick it to Brett Myland. Not to mention Lillian Duffy.”
“What a bitch,” Piper interjected. “By the way, how can we be sure that the Journal will publish the piece?”
“Have you forgotten that I’m married to the heir apparent?”
“No, but . . .” Piper hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if you were really in that place with him. You know, given the circumstances.”
“Don’t worry about that. Just leave it to me.”
“Thank you.” Annabel nodded. “Thank you both.”
“Can you believe this all started at this same table in this same café, with you telling me you were absolutely certain that Henry was cheating on you?” Piper mused.
“No, I cannot.” Annabel shook her head. “I may have the jumped the gun on that one.”
“Too bad I didn’t,” Mackenzie added. “I feel like one of those women.”
“Which women?” Annabel took a bite of her vegetable omelet.
“The ones you used to talk about. The ones who thought their husbands would never have an affair and were shocked off their rockers when they found out they were.”
“Honestly, I never would have suspected Trevor either. And I’m usually the first to accuse.” Annabel reached across the table and placed her hand on Mackenzie’s. “I think this could wind up to be a good thing for you, though. I know what an upheaval like this can lead to. And you may not want to hear this now, but you’ll find someone new and even more wonderful.”
“You’re right,” Mackenzie relented. “It still feels shitty, though. I wish he’d just told me.”
“Men are cowards,” Annabel professed.
“Ain’t that the truth?” Piper agreed.
“What’s going on with you and Max?” Mackenzie turned toward her. “No signs of him fleeing the coop anytime soon?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re cool with that?”
“I don’t really have a choice.” Piper thought for a moment. “I guess I finally came to the conclusion that I can’t hold a grudge forever. It’s not healthy for me, and it’s not fair to Fern. Or to Todd. If Max really wants to have a place in his daughter’s life, then he deserves a chance. I just need to figure out how we’re going to work it all out. So that everyone’s happy.”
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Annabel smiled at her friends.
“Amen to that,” Mackenzie concurred.
“We’ll get there,” Piper avowed. “I have a feeling happiness is just around the corner. For all of us.”