Page 38 of Seven Summer Weekends

You could almost see their joy turn to embarrassment. Ben stopped and stood Addison safely on the ground, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I got carried away. I can’t remember the last time the Overs won.”

“It’s OK,” she laughed, adding proudly, “We did it!”

She hugged him, partially to make him feel better for running her around the field like a trophy, and partially because she already missed being in his arms.

And that was it. That was the moment where she crossed that thin line between love and hate. Her friends looked out on the field and shook their heads in unison.

“So much for her not hooking up with her douchey neighbor,” Lisa whispered in Kizzy’s ear.

“I don’t know. I mean, from what I’ve seen so far, she’s not his type. I think the gentleman prefers blondes.”

Lisa pulled out her phone and googled Ben Morse’s late wife. TheirNew York Timeswedding announcement came up, and Lisa passed the picture of his petite brown-haired bride down the line for all to contemplate.

“Hmm. He’s not into doppelbängers, I guess,” Pru quipped, causing them all to fall into hysterics.

Addison ran up the bleachers, her feet barely touching the ground.

“What’s so funny?”

They blew off the question and changed the subject.

“So happy you won!”

“Should we hit the beach?”

“Yes. And we’re invited to a big barbecue at Shep’s tonight to celebrate. Want to go?” she asked.

“Lisa and I are catching the five o’clock ferry,” Pru informed her.

“Kizzy? Does that mean you’re staying?”

“Yes—I think I’ll stay the week.”

“But then she needs to go home and get a divorce. I want thiswhole thing behind her by the end of September,” Pru said. “Without kids to worry about, it’s truly possible.”

Pru was all business, but it was obvious that the hard truth pained Kizzy. She wished she had a kid or two to worry about. Seventeen years with Rome should have given her at least that. Addison read her expression.

“Don’t think about all that now, Kezia. Just enjoy the week.”

“True, your troubles will still be there in seven days. You may as well put them aside for a few and enjoy yourself,” Lisa counseled.

“Besides, for all I know, I may be right behind her.”

Pru said this casually, very casually. Her tone almost gave them more pause than her words. Then she backpedaled.

“Only kidding. Let’s get to the beach.”

On the beach, Pru sat next to Kizzy, who took the opportunity to make sure her friend, the only one of the four with a husband and child, was OK. She pulled her nose out of the 1984Rolling Stoneshe had found in the house, the first of twenty-three issues featuring Madonna on the cover, and asked her straight up, “Everything OK at home, Pru?”

Pru peered over herTimeBest of ’90 issue, a forced smile rising over an image of Bart Simpson. “All good,” she said unconvincingly. A few minutes later, the truth slowly came out. It’s not uncommon for a coupled person to question their own relationship when a friend goes through a breakup. Clearly Pru was deep in introspection about her marriage.

“You really didn’t know, Kizzy? There were no signs?”

“Of course there were signs. What’s up, Pru?”

Pru put down her magazine and spilled it.

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