Baby proof

We're both quiet for something close to a full minute and then he says, 'You want to come over? Watch a movie or something?'

I feel goose bumps rise on my arms and legs but shoot back, 'I don't think that would be a very good idea…'

I know I am right, but I still hate myself for saying it. I want nothing more than to go back to my old apartment, sit with Ben on the couch, and watch a movie. At this moment, I miss our friendship more than anything else.

Part of me hopes he'll talk me into it, but he just says, 'You're probably right.'

'Yeah,' I say.

'Okay,' he says.

'Well. I better go,' I say, my eyes filling with tears.

'Okay. Good-bye, Claudia,' he says softly. 'Be well.'

'You, too,' I say, feeling unbelievably empty inside. I can't ever remember feeling this lonesome. As I hang up, I tell myself to memorize the ache in my chest just in case I ever get any more bright ideas to get in touch with Ben. I don't want to be reminded of what I no longer have.

Jess returns the following morning from her red-eye flight, bursting into my bedroom. The best way to describe her is giddy.

'I'm so glad you're awake!' she says, running and jumping on the foot of my bed.

'What's up?' I say, just as Tucker's vivid features come into sharp focus. 'How was your trip?'

Jess sings, 'Trey's leaving his wife!'

'That's great!' I say, my voice sounding stilted. It's hard for me to muster up a lot of enthusiasm around the subject of divorce.

'He's telling her this week,' she says. 'She's going on her annual girls' trip to the beach this Friday-and he's going to tell her right before she leaves.'

How thoughtful, I think. The girls will have something to talk about now. But I say, 'And then what?'

'What do you mean 'then what'?' she says. I know she is hungry for my approval in the way that all single women need the approval of their best friends. In the way that I now need her approval.

'I mean-what are the logistics? Is he moving to New York?'

'We haven't talked about that yet,' she says.

'Oh,' I say, and then worry that I'm probably not sounding jubilant enough. The last thing I want to do is rain on Jess's parade when every single one of her parades over the past decade-plus has been rained out. Besides, nothing I say is going to change what she does so I might as well be supportive. Sometimes you just need someone to be happy-or sad-along with you. Still, I can't help having a very bad feeling about Trey. Except in a few, very rare circumstances, I am a firm believer in the saying, Once a cheater, always a cheater.

I know Jess can sense my skepticism because she says, 'You don't like him, do you?'

'I don't know him,' I say quickly. 'I just… I don't know…'

'Say it,' she says.

I hesitate and then say, 'Do you think you could ever really trust him?'

'We're totally in love,' Jess says, which doesn't really address my question. You can love someone you mistrust. 'He's my soul mate.'

My legs feel weak just hearing the words soul mate, words I once used to describe my relationship with Ben. There is no better feeling in the world than believing you have found your soul mate. It's utter euphoria. Which is sort of the exact opposite of how I feel right now.

'I'm happy for you, Jess,' I say. 'I really hope things work out.'

She grins and then disappears, returning with her digital camera. 'I took photos of him. Just so you could see him,' she says, clicking through highlights of their tryst at the Four Seasons. There is one picture of Trey holding a towel loosely at his waist. He has a six-pack, maybe even an eight-pack, complete with those ledgelike indentations where ripped stomach dips into pelvis territory.

'Wow. He's gorgeous,' I say, wondering how an investment-banker-father-husband has time to carry on an affair and hit the gym that hard. It confirms something else I've always said-I don't trust men who have bodies that fabulous.

Jess blushes and says, 'I know! He really is… I think this is it, Claudia. This is really it this time.'

'We'll see,' I say, crossing my fingers with feigned optimism.

I don't tell Jess about Tucker until the following Saturday morning, after Trey-surprise, surprise-does not tell his wife that he wants a divorce. He had his reasons, of course. They always do. Something about his son having a high fever and his wife's beach trip getting canceled. I think to myself that it's so unfair that shit marriages seem to have a way of limping along for decades-while perfectly good ones like mine can just end overnight.

Meanwhile Jess is telling me how she doesn't hold the delay against him. That this just proves what a good father he is.

I guess it's the 'good father' reference that makes me think of Ben because I tell her the whole Tucker story.

Jess looks surprised that I didn't confide in her sooner, so I shoot her a look of apology and say, 'I had to digest it before I could talk about it.'

She nods as if she understands. Unlike my sisters, she's not one to get her feelings damaged around these sorts of things. In fact, she's not one to get her feelings hurt around much of anything. She has developed an extremely thick skin over the years-which probably stems as much from her bad luck in love as her hardass profession.

'Did you Google her?' Jess asks.

I laugh and admit that I did. 'You taught me well.'

'And?'

'Nothing. She's nowhere to be found.'

'You put her name in quotes?'

'Yup,' I say. 'Nothing came up.'

'Good,' Jess says, flashing me one of her devilish smiles. 'Just proves what we already knew.'

'What's that?' I say.

'That he doesn't have a prayer of upgrading from you.'

'Say it again,' I say.

So she does, with a little extra flair the second time.

Later that afternoon, Jess and I meet my sisters at Union Square Cafe for lunch. Jess and I were working all morning while Maura and Daphne shopped. They are loaded up with bags from Barneys (Maura's favorite store) and Bloomingdale's (Daphne's favorite). I'm in the best mood I've been in for a long time, likely because I'm spending time with my three favorite women. I can literally feel my heart healing just being in their company.

The waitress is grinding fresh pepper on Daphne's ravioli when Maura comes right out and asks if I've heard from Ben. I glance at Jess and fleetingly consider saying no. It's not that I don't want to tell my sisters. I'm just not in the mood to relive the whole tale. But I have a very difficult time keeping track of those sorts of deceptions. I know I will forget in several months that I didn't tell them and will make a Tucker reference-and then it will become an issue: why did I tell Jess and not them? So I just go ahead and divulge everything, down to the rainbow sprinkles and the pet store and my Google search and short conversation with Ben later that night. Daphne's brown eyes look pained and downright teary. Daphne cries a lot. It is her natural reaction to any extreme emotion-anger, happiness, worry, fear. Meanwhile, Maura puts on her determined, competitive face. I can tell she wants more information. Sure enough, she starts firing questions. 'How pretty was she?' she asks, even though I just completed a rather detailed physical description for the express purpose of preempting this line of questioning.