His friends crowded around the two of them, egging them on.
"Nobody does it like you, Jude. Three years ago, when Alma found out you'd cheated, she pulled the whole act—slit her wrists, wanted a divorce so bad she'd rather die."
"You really toughed it out, man. Not only did you get Bridget to have the abortion, you stashed her out in some little town for three whole years. Had to sneak your monthly taste of her every time you went back to visit your folks."
"And to keep Alma sweet, you tattooed her name on your stomach, strapped on an electronic tracker wired straight to her phone so she could check your location anytime she wanted."
"And you still went and broke that stubborn streak of hers, didn't you?"
The group burst out laughing, still heaping praise on Bridget and Jude.
"Our Jude's the richest man in Harbor City now. If I were her, forget just having a man with someone on the side—even if he came home a new groom every single night, I'd be the one showing up at his door with a fertility kit."
"She's got some nerve making a scene. Should've kicked her out with nothing and let her clear off, made room for our Bridget already!"
"Don't talk like that... I don't care about titles anyway."
That was what Bridget said, and yet the smile on her face was pure smugness.
Beside me, my best friend had gone white with fury, her fingers clamped around her glass, shaking with the force of it.
Something in my chest sat somewhere between relief and a dull ache.
So that was it. For three years he'd made the long trip home every single month.
I'd taken it for devotion. Turned out it was all for Bridget.
And the joke of it was, his own parents had gone right along with him, keeping it from me too.
Jude wasn't laughing. His face was dark,
throwing back one glass after another, some restless thing he couldn't name pressed down behind his eyes.
Finally someone caught on that something was off.
"How come you're still not happy? Alma's stopped making trouble, Bridget's pregnant—doesn't this mean you finally get to run both households out in the open?"
"Home fire still burning, banners flying outside too. There's men who'd kill for that and never get it."
Jude set his glass down hard on the table, his voice cold.
"Something's wrong."
The booth went quiet for a beat.
Jude let out a bitter laugh.
"You know what Alma said to me?"
"She said she'd be happy to wait on Bridget through her confinement!"
"I pushed her on it, said if she's so big-hearted, why not just move Bridget into the house to have the baby—and she agreed to that too!"
By the time he said it, his chest was heaving.
"She's out of her mind! Why isn't she angry?"
His friends traded glances, clearly not expecting him to blow up like this over the fact that I'd backed down.
Bridget's little face paled, and she bit down on her lip.
Someone ventured a careful laugh.
"Maybe she just came to her senses once she got pregnant."
"I mean, she's carrying a belly that big now. If she actually divorced, who's going to take on secondhand goods like her?"
"Women, right? However tough their mouths are, the second they've got no way out, they learn to be scared."
Jude shot him one cold look, and the man shut up instantly.
He leaned back into the couch, tapping his knuckle against the glass, one beat after another, his voice low.
"Alma's not that kind of woman. She's hiding something from me."
"This isn't going to just slide by. I'm going to keep testing her. I don't buy that she really feels nothing."
"I want to see what exactly she's up to."
His friends exchanged looks, their expressions turning a little odd.
Someone laughed it off, awkward.
"Never figured you actually cared this much about Alma, Jude."
"Thought you didn't have any feelings left for her at all."
"The hell are you talking about."
Someone beside him cut in at once.
"You know who Jude loves most, don't you? Bridget, obviously!"
By now Bridget couldn't force out a smile at all, her eyes red, her whole face full of resentment.
Jude said nothing, just drank, one glass after another.
