Page 61 of Against All Odds

Hillary caught my eye as she uncorked the second bottle of wine. “You okay, Sable?”

“No,” I said flatly, though the glass of wine in my hand was already making me feel marginally less like throwing myself off of a cliff.

“Good.” She nodded as if she approved of my honesty. “Because pretending you’re fine would be bullshit.”

An hour later, we sprawled across my living room. Plates balanced on our laps, and the remains of Elijah’s comfort food scattered on the coffee table. The first bottle of wine was empty, and the second was halfway there. Casey had put onTerms of Endearment, which was a ridiculous choice considering I was already feeling miserable, but she insisted it was cathartic.

“I’m not going to cry anymore,” I whined.

“I swear, if Sally Field screaming for painkillers for her daughter at the hospital doesn’t make you cry, you might actually be a robot.” Natasha’s voice had a slight slur as she refilled her glass.

“Pretty sure I’m all cried out,” I replied, though my voice wavered as the hospital scene unfolded.

Hillary sniffled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her T-shirt. “Why do we do this to ourselves?”

“Because it’s tradition when you get your heart broken,” Casey replied, stuffing a piece of cornbreadinto her mouth. “And because crying duringSteel Magnoliasis basically a rite of passage.”

I didn’t argue. It felt good to do this. Casey was right.

By the time the credits rolled, we’d moved on to music. Natasha had commandeered my Bluetooth speaker and queued up a playlist that started with Adele and quickly escalated to Beyoncé.

WhenSingle Ladiescame on, Casey grabbed my hand, pulling me off the couch. “Come on, Sable. Dance it out.”

“I don’t dance,” I protested, but she was already spinning me in a circle.

“Now you do,” she declared, shimmying as Hillary joined in, a glass of wine in hand.

Natasha cranked up the volume, and her moves were somewhere between enthusiastic and completely ridiculous as we tried to copy Beyonce doing theSingle Ladiesdance.

It was infectious to twirl around my living room and hear them laugh like loons. I felt a smile tug at my lips—real this time—and before I knew it, I was laughing, too.

We danced until we were breathless, collapsing back onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and giggles.

“This—” Natasha raised her glass— “is how you get through shit in life. Food, wine, and bad dancing with your friends.”

I clinked my glass against hers. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Never had your heart broken?” Casey frowned.

I shook my head. “Oh, no, my heart has scar tissuefrom continual breaking…no, I’ve never had…friends to commiserate with.”

Natasha put an arm around me and squeezed. “Now, you do.”

“You’re all nuts,” I murmured, feeling strangely full in the heart despite losing Heath in the worst way possible.

“Completely,” Hillary agreed, leaning her head on my shoulder.

“Okay, how about we now watchSilence of the Lambs?” Casey suggested.

We all looked at her with inquiring raised eyebrows.

“I’ve never seen that movie suggested in the after-breakup handbook,” Hillary said thoughtfully.

“I know. I know. But hear me out.” Casey raised both hands, asking us to be quiet and listen to her explanation. “It’s to watch Jody Foster fall in love with a serial killer, which makes us all feel like we could do much worse. It works.”

“Okay,” I grinned. “Let’s try it out.”

Spoiler alert: it worked!

---