I Let My Best Friend's Husband Drive Me Home
Wine dinner. She went to bed early. He offered a ride. We sat in the driveway twenty minutes and I wanted to be the villain of my own story.
Nothing happened. Say that first.
Wine dinner. She went to bed early with a migraine. He drove me home because Uber surged.
We sat in his driveway twenty minutes talking about debt, about feeling invisible in marriages that look fine on Instagram.
He said, "I shouldn't want to kiss you."
I said, "I shouldn't want you to."
We didn't.
I walked inside alone and shook for an hour.
I still see them every Sunday for brunch. I order extra mimosas. She thinks I'm fun.
I am a coward and a loyal friend in the same body and I hate how alive I felt in that car.
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