I spent three years trying to figure out how to do it. Part of that time, I wasn’t even sure if William would take me back once I left my husband. Eventually, though, he came back around some.
On his arm he carried Rachel, my best friend. I was not allowed to be unhappy for her. My dear, my darling Rachel… was trying like hell to have what she supposed I had in Henry. Yet, she confided in me many concerns; the most heartwarming of which was that she didn’t believe my William truly loved her.
Though intensely painful, I welcomed him back into our lives, even though his new role was so completely wrong. I greeted him with genuine warmth. Our greeting embraces were only sometimes a second too long, and the kisses he plopped on my cheeks were never more than what he would give to his aunt or mother. Our façade fooled everyone, myself included on occasion.
Henry and I continued our little parties until Friday evenings became a spectacular show. I would drown myself in booze waiting with eager dread to see if William would show. And on the times he did, I continued to satiate my sorrows with poison in the hopes that any missteps could be blamed on the alcohol rather than my betraying emotions.