She and John. Me and Harry. It could actually work. It could work so beautifully. And if I couldn’t have her, did I want anyone else? I was pretty sure that if I couldn’t have her, all I wanted was a life with Harry. “OK,” I said. “Let’s do it.” Another car came up behind us, and Harry grabbed me again. This time, he kissed me slowly, passionately. When a guy jumped out of his car with a camera, Harry pretended, just for a split second, that he didn’t see him and slipped his hand down the top of my dress. The image printed in the papers the next week was tawdry, scandalous, and shocking. It showed us with swollen faces and looks of guilt, Harry’s hand clearly on my breast. The next day, everyone was printing headlines that Joy Nathan was pregnant. The four of us were the talk of the nation. Unscrupulous, unfaithful, lustful sinners. Carolina Sunset set a record for the longest stay in theaters. And to celebrate our divorce, Rex and I shared a pair of dirty martinis. “To our successful union,” Rex said. And then we clinked our glasses and drank.