Jamie’s voice is urgent in Isabel’s ear. “I told him I thought we should just be friends.” Isabel grabs a quart of milk and virtually hurls it into the shopping cart. Jamie lets out a low whistle. “Ouch, that’s gotta hurt! Didn’t he ask you why?” Isabel nods though her friend can’t see her through the telephone line and rubs her temples, as if she can rub out the memory. “Yes, of course he did. You know Mike. He’s a man who gets what he wants. He’s not used to just taking the first explanation he’s given.” “So you told him about Wes.” There’s no question in Jamie’s voice. Isabel pauses, just long enough to give herself away. “Issy! Why wouldn’t you just tell him?” Isabel shakes her head; she’s been berating herself over that very same fact since the call the day before. “I don’t know. It just seemed a little…I don’t know, harsh?
