The Status of All Things
otherwise. She’d given me the same disapproving look she’d given me thirty days ago, the one that launched us into the same argument today, me defending my Come find your happy ending billboard idea and Magda scoffing at it, her ill-fitting jacket accentuating her emaciated body—something she took a great deal of pride in, grinning wildly when a homeless man had called out to her to eat a cheeseburger already as we’d strolled by. But what I’d forgotten was that thirty days ago, when I’d pitched this campaign the first time, it had been Courtney who’d swooped in, taken my side, and won Magda’s praise for being more convincing about my own idea than I’d been.
    As Courtney defended my intuitiveness and raved about how I always knew what the clients wanted, I’d wondered how I could be so in tune with the people I did business with yet so clueless about those closest to me— like her . When Courtney had backed me up last month, I’d shot her a smile and stage whispered that I’d buy all her drinks later that night when we went out with Max. But this time, I could barely force a smile, reluctantly swallowing the rage I felt toward her.
    As we’d walked out of the glass-walled conference room, Courtney had laced her arm through mine and I’d stiffened involuntarily. As she pulled me down the hall toward our offices, my mind kept wandering to what Courtney would look like if her eyebrows were “suddenly” shaved off.
    I dialed Jules’ number as soon as I got inside my office. “I need a lifeline,” I whined as soon as Jules said hello.
    “I always wanted to be your phone-a-friend !” Jules exclaimed, both of us remembering how we used to fantasize about being contestants on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. “You would’ve called me, not Liam, right?”
    “Of course!” I laughed.
    “So what’s going on? Because I know you’re not sitting there with Regis Philbin.”
    “It’s just that being at work with her is even harder than I thought it would be,” I’d lamented. “Especially when she’s nice to me.”
    “Well, of course she’s laying it on thick. She feels guilty about harboring feelings for your man .”
    “That’s why she was kissing my ass so hard in the weeks leading up to the wedding,” I’d said after giving it more thought. “She was constantly swinging by my office with an extra Starbucks coffee or bringing me the latest People , even offering to stay late so I could go home and work on my wedding to-do list. To think I believed she wanted to help me because she was my friend, when she only wanted to relieve her conscience.” I rested my forehead in my hand. “This all feels hopeless.”
    “You need to pull it together,” Jules said sternly. “Where’s the girl who graduated at the top of her class from Occidental? Where’s my best friend who held my hand during seventeen hours of labor? And most importantly, where’s the woman who originally captured Max’s heart? She would be able to do this!”
    “I just wish I knew what went wrong between us, then at least I’d have a place to start.”
    Jules sighed into the phone. “Do you have any ideas?”
    We’d experienced a few tense moments in our premaritalcounseling. I remember bickering about which parent’s house we should spend our Christmases at or if we should have a joint checking account, but we’d eventually compromised on both. I couldn’t think of an issue between us that we hadn’t been able to work through in the past three years, something I’d always considered one of our greatest strengths. But how would we work through this?
    “Remember that ‘what-if’ game we played at your house that time?” I asked Jules.
    “How could I forget? A few relationships almost ended that night!” Jules started to release a laugh then stopped herself.
    “Do you recall the card Max pulled—the one about cheating?”
    “Oh yes—”
    “He said he was so sure he’d want to work things out if his spouse was

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