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“You can have sex without a relationship.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve only ever been with Wyatt.”

She stops walking and faces me. “Are you serious?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? You know we dated in high school and college. Then got married right after he got drafted into the pros.”

“You’re telling me in all your twenty-nine years⁠—”

“I’m thirty-three.”

She waves me off. “As far as I’m concerned, we’ll both be twenty-nine for the rest of our lives.”

I let out a small laugh.

“So you’re telling me you’ve only ever had one dick?”

I give a half-hearted shrug. “It wasn’t even that good of a dick, if I’m being honest.”

“Which is precisely why you should find some new dick. Better dick. Bigger dick.”

I burst out laughing, not even caring if people look our way or overhear what we’re talking about.

“Listen to me,” Hilde continues, her voice turning serious. “All your adult life, you’ve put others first. Mostly Wyatt. That asshole never deserved you. So now that he’s on his way out, it’s time to put yourself first. Time to do what you want. So tell me… What does Wynter want?”

I glance back toward the lake where the symbols of my marriage now rest at the bottom. “I don’t even know.”

“Then take some time to figure it out. But you’ll only be able to do that by taking risks. Trying new things.” Her expression turns sly. “Like a certain hottie next door.”

“I don’t know,” I sigh as we continue walking. “I’m not like you, Hilde. I can’t just walk up to a guy and ask him to fuck me.”

“You should. It’s incredibly powerful.”

“I don’t have that sort of confidence.”

We join the line for wine, and Hilde faces me. “Do you want to know the best decision I’ve ever made?”

“Divorcing Dwight.”

“That’s probably the second-best decision. But the best one was the day I stopped giving a shit what anyone thought of me. I used to put myself in a box for other people. Did everything to live up to their expectations. But do you know what I realized?”

“What’s that?”

“I was fucking miserable. I didn’t like who I was. Hell, I’m not even sure I knew who I was. So I started doing one selfish thing a day. One thing that was just for me. At first, it was something small. Like adding goat cheese to my avocado toast. Or dipping my fries in ranch. But then I did bigger things. Like making new friends.”

This reminds me of what my brother said the other night. About doing one small act of rebellion every day.

“This eventually helped me leave Dwight. Maybe that’s what you need, too. Maybe you need to start doing one completely selfish thing each day.” She squeezes my hand before dropping it. “And if that selfish thing happens to be receiving a few orgasms from your hot-as-fuck younger neighbor, who am I to judge?”

I throw my head back and laugh.

It’s not forced or polite. Or the laugh I’ve perfected over years of football dinners and charity galas.

It’s just me.

For the first time since I came home, I realize this might be what I’ve missed the most.

Not Wyatt.