Page 161 of Perfect Satisfaction

“You can ask.”But I may not answeris the very clear subtext.

“When do you call him Joshua instead of JB? I’ve heard you use both.”

“Joshua,” she says, enunciating every syllable, “is my sometimes boss. JB is my sometimes friend.”

“That makes an odd sort of sense,” I reply, but I can’t stop the snicker at the haughtiness in her voice.

“So glad my idiosyncrasies amuse you,” she says, but her lips are twitching.

“Listen, you know what they say.”

“What’s that?”

“If you can’t laugh at yourself, you know who to laugh at.”

Her lips purse as she thinks. “That’s easy. You.”

“You wound me.”

“That takes a lot. Remember, I know you.” Her eyes go wide at the off-the-cuff statement before she turns her head and finds something fascinating out the window

But I hold those words close because right now, they’re the only hope I have.

Sula does know me if she knows where to look.

Her heart.

CHAPTEREIGHTY

I think we’re trained to not trust people. Maybe it starts with the number of quizzes about ways to know your life partner in magazines.

There are six on my local newsstand, in case you’re wondering.

—Moore You Want

“Remember, I know you.”

I dunk my head beneath the water and let the quiet surround me as my words echo over and over inside my head.

“Remember, I know you.”

I burst to the surface and wonder aloud, “Am I really being given a second chance and making the same mistakes?”

“Remember, I know you.”

The door to the bathroom opens. My head swivels and there he is—nude, vulnerable. Waiting.

“Remember, I know you.”

I hold out my hand to my husband, inviting him in.

The relief on his face mirrors that in my heart.

It also firms up a decision I’ve just made.

I’m going to break my vow.

It’s time for the truth. There’s no moving forward without it.