Delaney James was wearing Chanel the night her husband told her he didn't love her anymore.
In an instant, her picture-perfect Manhattan life-complete with a brownstone on the Upper East Side, a blossoming career as a fashion journalist, and a devas...
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I turn, and there she is.
Jo.
She's every bit as striking as I remember. Her chestnut hair – now threaded with copper highlights – is twisted into a messy bun, loose curls falling around her face. A pale yellow sundress skims her sun-kissed skin, the fabric catching lightly at her waist before falling over the soft curve of her hips.
Jo never needed makeup – she still doesn't – but something about her has changed. Her dark brows are drawn tight, and in her violet eyes there's a flicker of something that never used to be there.
Suspicion? Cynicism? Indifference, maybe?
I start toward her, my steps slowing as my brain scrambles for something – anything, really – to say after ten years of silence.
"Hi, Jo."
"Hey." She folds her arms across her chest. "I heard you were back. Was wondering if I'd see you."
"I'm not back... permanently," I rush to clarify. "I'm just visiting."
"Oh." Her eyes travel slowly down the length of me before returning to my face. "Okay."
The word lands like a brick in water.
I pull at the square strap of my tweed Chanel minidress, suddenly aware of how out of place I must look standing in the middle of a preschool classroom dressed like I'm about to walk into a SoHo brunch. I tuck my hands behind my back, my collection of Hermes and Tiffany & Co. bracelets clanging together as I do.
Standing here in front of the girl I once sat cross-legged in dirt with, making mud pies and digging tunnels for worms, I feel absurdly overdressed. Like I showed up wearing a complete stranger's life.
"So," I say, clearing my throat. "How've you been?"
She exhales slowly. "Busy." A beat passes. "How about you? How's New York?"
"New York is good!" I say a little too enthusiastically. "Great, actually. I can't wait to get back."
I turn my head and pretend to check on the kids across the room, giving her no opportunity to study my face too closely.
"It's nice to get away for a little while," I add casually. "But yeah... I'm definitely looking forward to going back."
The words sound convincing enough. At least I hope they do.
Jo huffs a quiet laugh. "Delaney." I look back at her. "I was your best friend for fifteen years. I know when you're lying."
There was a time when Jo could read my mind. She used to finish my sentences before I even knew where they were going. People used to joke that we shared a brain.
But that was a long time ago.
Still... I guess some habits die slower than others.
