I think about that for a minute too long, and Hattie says, “He could make a fortune if that’s true.”
We all consider that.
“Do you think if we suggested it to him we could get a cut of the profits?” Hattie asks.
Capria ignores her. “And you like him. He’s a good guy, he’s a good man, he’s a good dad—”
“As far as I know,” I clarify.
“As far as you know. And you only know what you know. And we’re all wandering around in the dark, right? So Hattie’s right. Whatever happens, you need to have the time of your life this weekend. You need to pull out all the stops and bust out all the clichés. Party like it’s 1999, live like you’re going to live forever and die tomorrow, whatever.”
“And pack condoms,” Hattie says. “And lube. And maybe a dildo.”
“A dildo,” I repeat, my mouth falling open.
“DP. Just saying.”
“I don’t own a dildo,” I whisper.
“Oh, Jesus, child,” Hattie says. “You aren’t really divorced till you own a dildo.”