She settles on a counter stool as I pour.

“Okay. What’s been going on?”

“In the last twelve hours?” I smile wearily. “This morning I gave a kickass presentation to senior management, during which I exposed myself in a black corset. At least they know I don’t pierce my nipples. Andrew McCormick green lighted my gO Spa project. I also met an incredible man, who turns out to be the brother of my high school boyfriend. I went back to my office after the presentation and there were dozens of white roses from Joe. I gave them away. He called about sixty times, but I didn’t answer, so he showed up at O. Drunk. And tried to fight with Nick, who is the incredible man I met. Then he puked all over the hallway in shades that do not match the color palette.”

Jemma blinks. “That’s it?”

“And I have a meeting with Nick next week.”

“Want to hear about my last twenty-four hours?” Jem asks.

I nod.

“Yesterday I had a meeting with my editor, then I went home. Henry made salmon for dinner, after which I exposed myself in a lace bra. This morning I walked three miles. I wrote half of an article on nutrition for pregnant women in displaced populations. I took a nap. Henry called four times and I answered four times. Then I showed up here. Might get a little bit drunk.”

I look at her lovely, serene face.

“I would trade with you in a heartbeat,” I say sincerely.

“So Joe Blow earned his nickname,” she muses. “I am so sorry, Chloe. That must have been awful.”

I know she means the confrontation at work today, but my mind goes back a month.

“Don’t call him that. It was awful, Jem. I will never get that picture out of my mind.” I press my hands to my eyes. “And Blowjob Barbie was wearing a bra printed with Red Sox logos! How could he?”

Jemma shudders.

“The only thing worse would have been a Yankees logo.”

I throw an olive at her. She catches it neatly in her palm and eats it.

“He tried to fight with some guy at your office?”

“Yes! In front of the whole staff! I tripped and fell, and Nick caught me and somehow he had one hand on my boob, and Joe saw that and went crazy—well, he already was crazy—and took a swing at him. And Nick just went like this,” I stand up and do my best to demonstrate how he overpowered Joe, “and that was it. Security took over.”

She is just staring at me. I sit down again.

“Oh, and then Joe threw up all over my lovely New Zealand wool carpet. I chose that carpet when we remodeled the building.”

She starts to giggle. I see her point and join in, until a horrible thought stops me cold, and my eyes fill up with tears.

“Jemma,” I whisper, “What if the adoption people find out about this?”

“Do you think they could?”

“O keeps pretty tight control over information. All the employees know that any leak would cost them their job. But still… there’s always a chance… and it would look so bad. It was a violent outburst. The timing could not be worse.”

“Actually, it could. Suppose you hadn’t found out he had this in him? Suppose he acted this way around the baby? You know Henry and I were never big fans of Joe’s, but I would not have predicted any of this. Did you see it coming?”

I think for a minute. “Not really, no. Maybe I should have. Looking back, I guess a lot of things didn’t really add up. But he loved me so much!” I frown. “I mean, I think he really loved me… right? He said he did, all the time.”

Jemma looks at me sadly.

“He didn’t love me, did he?” I ask, but I don’t really expect an answer.

“He wasn’t really getting a divorce for three years,” she says. It clearly pains her. “So...”

I make an animal noise in the back of my throat that can only be cured by wine.

“Chloe.” Jem takes a deep breath. “Chloe, you are our best friend. You are the best person. You’re lovely and kind and smart and funny. You work so hard, and you love so hard. You’re true blue. And you deserve so, so much better than Joe Blow. You deserve a guy who will love you every day. Only you. A guy who will show you how much he loves you, and not just say the words.”

“I look at what you and Henry have, and that’s how I know it’s possible. It exists.”

Jemma sighs. It’s the sound a friend makes when she wants to say something she shouldn’t, but has to anyway. “Chloe, you know how people ask you sometimes why you decided to adopt?”

“Yes.”

“And how you choose not to give a reason?”

“Yes.” Where’s she going with this?

“I think part of the reason is that you knew you didn’t have a future with Joe, so you decided to make your own future.”

Ouch.

“Please don’t be mad.” Her fingers land on my forearm, pressing compassion into me.

“Not mad,” I choke out, trying not to cry. “Just blindsided a little. You’re right.” I look at her with a starkness I wish I could share with a life partner. “Joe was never, ever going to give me what I want.” I squeeze her hand.

We share a sad smile.

“Now tell me about this incredible man you met.”

“Not much to tell, really.” I let out a cleansing breath. “Pretty high up at Anterdec. He’s handsome. I think he liked me—he might have been flirting—but I’m not sure.”

“Well, he liked you enough to grab your boob,” she smiles.

“That was an accident!”

“Ah. He can put another guy in a choke hold with one James Bond move, but he is so klutzy, he can’t hold you up without feeling you up?”

She raises one eyebrow.

I’ve always wanted to be able to do that.

“He’s my high school boyfriend’s older brother. There’s something about him, Jem, I can’t describe it. I want his arms around me. It’s a funny feeling. Safe sexy.”

“That does sound like my Henry,” she says, almost to herself.

“I never felt safe with Joe. Why did I stay with him for so long? How could I not see this coming?”

She just looks at me, and I can see she is really fighting her desire to say We told you so.

She struggles. She loses.

“We told you so! About a hundred times! Look, Chloe, I’m not going to say Joe didn’t love you at all. I’m sure he did, in a way. But it was just all about him! His convenience. His rules. His fun. And you bent over backwards for years to please him! What the hell was he doing in that conference room?” Her hands are in the air, flailing and gesticulating like she’s conducting the Boston Pops with her pent-up emotions.