Why I Broke Up With My Best Friend
The Best-Selling Author of "Silver Girl" Shares Her Story
Kate and I embarked on a 10-year run of friendship that put all my other friendships to shame. We talked every day on the phone, we walked a three-mile trail pushing baby joggers every evening of the summer, we threw Christmas parties together, and we took vacations to South Beach and Las Vegas. Certainly the other mothers of Nantucket joked about how aligned we were, how one name could not be spoken without invoking thought of the other. Kate is my second son's godmother, I am her eldest daughter's godmother, and Kate was my sponsor when I joined the Catholic Church. She was more important to me, emotionally, than my husband at times. When I was sad, or lonely, or angry, I turned first to Kate. When I signed a book deal, or became pregnant, she was the first person I told.
My husband's complaints that I was too close to Kate should have been my first warning sign. But I believed, at that time, that my friendship with Kate was a safe place and a great gift.
Meanwhile, my career was taking off.
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