“My husband texted from vegas: ‘just married my coworker. You’re pathetic BTW.’ I replied: ‘cool.’ Then I blocked his cards and changed the house locks. Next morning, police were at my door…”

What followed was the most humiliating caffeine-fueled gladiator match I have ever witnessed outside of reality television. Two mothers shrieking about ruined lives, coffee dripping down one blouse, Lily trying to insert herself and only making it worse, security guards jogging over with the resigned expressions of men whose lunch break had just been canceled by suburban madness.

Miranda leaned toward me and said, “I’ve handled entire divorces less dramatic than this lunch break.”

I laughed so hard I had to brace a hand against the courthouse railing.

Ethan had already slipped away by then, shoulders hunched, Rebecca trailing after him. He didn’t look back.

Later I heard that he found “comfort” in the arms of a twenty-two-year-old bartender that same night, which, if true, meant Rebecca lost that gamble before the chips had even settled on the felt.

Then HR did exactly what I predicted they would do.