Roxanne continues.

"So this college student, this naive small-town girl – we'll call her Roxanne – gets completely swept off her feet by this handsome, charming guy. We'll call him Brian," she says, expressively accentuating the story with her hands. "He tells her how beautiful she is, how she's his soulmate and his true love and he wants to give her everything she desires. Now this Roxanne, she's not used to this kind of attention, this adoration, so naturally she loves it. She soaks it right up.

"So he proposes, and of course she says 'yes'. They get married – a big, fancy wedding and a honeymoon in the Virgin Islands. They buy a stunning new house, they have three amazing little girls, they don't want for anything. Roxanne can't believe it. All of her wildest dreams are coming true – her happily ever after is real. Sure, Brian's gone a lot, but his business is doing better than he ever expected, and when he is home, he treats Roxanne and the girls like royalty. There are the gifts – so many gifts. The meals out, the family vacations. And not just the stuff money can buy. The little things – telling Roxanne and the girls how much he loves them, making them breakfast almost every morning, attending every recital and every sports game and every school event that he possibly can. He's the perfect husband, the perfect father, the perfect family man. He's too good to be true."

I know Roxanne's tale doesn't have a happy ending, but I need to hear it all anyway, because every bit of it resonates with me to my core. This is everything I felt with Tierney and more.

Roxanne pauses for a few beats, then continues, abruptly shifting from a nearly nostalgic third-person voice to a more immediate first-person. "So one Saturday morning, just over a year ago, right before Christmas, he comes home from the gym and goes right to the shower. He leaves his phone on the kitchen counter. While he's showering, his phone vibrates. New text message. So I pick up the phone, just like I've done a thousand times before. Maybe it's one of the girls. His mom. His brother."

I clench my fists in anticipation, my fingernails sinking into my palms as my stomach drops like a runaway elevator. I know what's coming next.

"There are three messages total. I'll never forget them. Each one is permanently etched into my brain," Roxanne's voice grows tremulous with emotion, her lower lip quivering. "The first one says, 'Hey, you're coming back to SA after Xmas, right?'. I know he's been to San Antonio a few times this year – he's working with a venture capital firm down there – and that's the next trip he has planned. The second one says, 'Maybe we could meet up again.' And the third tells me all I needed to know. 'And have some 'fun' like last time.' Fun is in quotes, and there's a winking emoji.

"They're from a number I don't recognize, the 2-1-0 area code. Someone named Lindsey. And Lindsey's almost always a woman's name – a young woman's name. 'Who the fuck is Lindsey?' I'm thinking to myself. But I already know."

Tears roll down Roxanne's cheeks, sporadically at first, then more steadily. I breathe in deeply and settle back into my chair as I exhale, crossing my hands on my chest. My eyes lock on to Roxanne's, and I tilt my head sympathetically. I'm listening, and I'm feeling every last bit of her pain.

"This crazy tornado of emotions just rips through me. Rage. Sadness. Shock. Heartbreak. Denial. I feel this weight bearing down on my chest, like I'm suffocating, like my whole world is crashing down around me, because it is. I don't know whether to scream or cry or just laugh maniacally, so I just sort of stand there, completely numb, breathing these shallow breaths.

"Brian comes out of the shower in just a towel, going about his business. He takes one look at me, holding his phone with this look of abject horror on my face, and he goes as white as a sheet. He knows that I know. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Finally, after a minute, he says 'I think we need to talk.'"

No shit, asshole. You think? I tighten my fists and my cheeks flush from anger – anger that a man could so selfishly and thoughtlessly wound a gentle soul like Roxanne, someone so vibrant and funny and kind. I want to lash out, to call Brian every colorful name I can think of, to let Roxanne know what I think of the man who betrayed her love and broke her spirit. I take a few slow, deliberate, deep breaths, bringing my wrath under control.

Roxanne proceeds with the heartrending details. To her amazement, Brian didn't try to deny or downplay his actions. He confessed everything, almost as if he had prepared for the moment when his deception was discovered. He'd been seeing Lindsey for about six months, and she was just the latest in a string of affairs dating back at least a decade; she just happened to be the first of these women Brian had given his personal cell phone number. Embracing the role of the perfect family man at home had merely been a facade, one of Brian's tactics for covering up his duplicitous life – no one would expect a model husband and father of what he'd done.

My fury gives way to complete shock, then to an emotional numbness. I simply cannot comprehend how Roxanne must have felt in that moment, learning that the contented life she'd been living for so long was little more than a front to the man she loved, the man she thought loved her.

"Finally he says, 'I'll give you a clean divorce, your terms. You can keep the house. All I ask is you don't soak me for every last dime, and you let me pack up my things and get out as soon as possible.' He showed no remorse, no regret. He didn't apologize. He didn't ask me to forgive him. But I was too shocked to be angry – that came later. I said something like, 'Fine, just do it. Be gone when I get back.' And I left the house. I just wanted to be alone."

Roxanne inches her chair closer to mine and leans in to me, as though she's seeking some physical comfort, and I'm happy to oblige. She nestles her head on my shoulder, and I extend an arm around her, my hand resting on her hip. She dabs her eyes with a tissue and sobs. I just hate seeing her this way.

"I just kind of drove around in a daze. I ended up at Council Crest Park and just sat there, staring out the window, thinking, for hours. I just couldn't process it," Roxanne continues matter-of-factly, her words punctuated with sniffles and little cries. "And when I came back that evening, he was gone, nothing left of him but his house keys and his debit card."

She pauses for a moment, drawing in a deep breath. "And that day is still the last time we spoke directly – the lawyers handled everything after that. Thirty years of my life, over in a matter of hours. It was like it all meant nothing to him. Nothing!" she wails through her tears. "Oh, God, Gavin, it still hurts so much."

By now Roxanne's chair is right up against mine. She wraps both of her arms around my midriff and squeezes me as if I'm some stuffed toy from her childhood, a source of solace and comfort. I tilt my head toward hers, and my face lands in exactly the right spot for me to bury my nose in her hair. I'm hardly surprised it smells divine, a touch of citrus and mint against the floral notes of her perfume. I rhythmically stroke Roxanne's silky golden locks like a mother soothing her distressed child. We sit like this for a good while, not speaking a word, as Roxanne cries a year and a half's worth of pent-up emotions out of her system.

Her whiskey-tinged breath warms the crook of my neck, and her tears dampen the neckline of my white T-shirt. Little by little, Roxanne's cries become softer and more sparse, until they're nothing more than an odd sniffle here or there. I can't help but notice how wonderful her body feels pressed against mine – we fit together almost like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

Roxanne looks over at me, her eyes red and puffy, her soft cheeks streaked with mascara and eyeliner. "I can't believe I'm telling you all this," she says, sounding as if she could cry all over again. "Seriously, why am I putting you through this? Oh, God, I'm sorry, I just—"

"No, no, please don't be sorry," I whisper in my most reassuring tone. "I'm really glad you told me. Sometimes it helps just to have someone to listen."

"That's so true. Thank you so much."

"And I've been through a bad breakup myself. We weren't together as long, of course, but it was still incredibly painful."

A quizzical expression spreads across Roxanne's tear-stained face. "Really? I had no idea. When?"

"Recently," I reply. "Very recently. You know how I just missed a week of rehearsals?"

"Oh, of course. With your stomach virus."

"Well, that's what I told everyone." I turn my glance to the side, mildly embarrassed. "But the truth is, I was never sick. At least not physically."

********

Roxanne has been through some crap, hasn't she? And you thought Gavin had a rough breakup! Luckily they can give each other some support – and maybe more...

As always, if you're enjoying the story If so, please consider giving this chapter a *vote*. Thank you in advance – I appreciate every read, every vote, and every comment more than I can put into words!