“I don’t want to get to know someone else,” I said. “I’m sick of trying to pretend I’m happy. At least with you, I'll be pretending to love someone I really do love.” Harry was quiet for a moment. “I think you should know something,” he said finally. “OK.” “Something I’ve thought I should tell you for some time.” “OK, tell me.” “I’ve been seeing John Braverman.” My heart started beating quickly. “Celia’s John Braverman?” Harry nodded. “For how long?” “A few weeks.” “When were you going to tell me?” “I wasn’t sure if I should.” “So their marriage is...” “Fake,” Harry said. “She doesn’t love him?” I asked. “They sleep in separate beds.” “Have you seen her?” Harry didn’t answer at first. He looked as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. But I had no patience for perfect words. “Harry, have you seen her?” “Yes.” “How does she seem?” I asked, and then thought of a better question, one more pressing. “Did she ask about me?” While I had not found living without Celia to be easy, I did find it easier when I could pretend she was a part of another world. But this, her existing in my orbit, made everything I had been repressing come bubbling up.