They suited her. But difficult times called for difficult measures.

Resolved to take action, Kit forced her attention back to the conversation.

“Now I’m supposed to go home and make dinner and smile and act like everything is okay,” Fiona was saying. “But I can’t. Everything isn’t okay and I’m sick of acting like it is.”

“Then don’t go,” Polly answered.

Kit frowned. Polly wasn’t helping. Of course Fiona had to go home. Fiona was married. “You can’t avoid going home, but you can, and should, talk to Chase. You have to make him understand how you feel. Does he know how unhappy you are?”

“I’m sure he does,” Fiona answered. “All we ever do is fight.”

Kit and Polly exchanged swift glances again. “But does he understand why you’re fighting?” Kit persisted, having just gone through a six-month roller-coaster ride with Meg when her eldest sister derailed her marriage by having an affair with her boss because she felt unloved at home. “Guys aren’t like us, Fiona. They don’t read between the lines very well. You have to let him know that the kids are wreaking havoc on your relationship.”

Fiona’s blue eyes flashed. “He knows, but he just makes excuses for them. Says that they’ve been through a lot with the divorce and that they’ll eventually grow out of it. But it’s his fault that they treat me like rubbish. He doesn’t set any boundaries with them. Doesn’t insist that they respect me,” she added, her Irish accent growing thicker. “But then, of course, he knows everything about kids because he’s a father. I’m just a teacher. He forgets that I spend eight hours a day with kids, and have for the last ten years of my life!”

Her words died away but the pain and bitterness in her voice hung in the air, mingling with the mournful minor chords of the piano.

Times like these, Kit was glad she wasn’t married. Marriage was not easy. And after months of uninspiring dates, she was no longer sure men were the answer. If anything, they were the problem.

“You know this isn’t about you, Fiona,” Kit added with a rueful twist of her lips. “He’s compensating. Feeling guilty for leaving their mom. For breaking the family up—”

“So better to break my heart! Better to let his children tear me apart because I had the audacity to fall in love with their father!”

“Just shoot the bastard and get it over with,” Polly said grimly.

Kit slapped Polly’s arm. “Shut up.