Chapter 2
”Girls,we are going to be so, so late.” I grabbed Zoe and Sara”s not-so-little hands and pulled them across the crowded school parking lot. They didn”t want to take the bus this morning to make things easier. This was the theme of my life lately: make Mom”s life difficult. But it was fine. I had my daughters with me most of the time. Better with me than with that cheater.
”Mom, let go of my hand. I”m twelve.” Zoe wrestled her sweaty hand free. She shifted her eyes to her twin, Sara, waiting for her to agree.
Sara lifted her dark brown eyes from my hand to my waiting face. ”I don”t know. I don”t mind.”
Zoe rolled her eyes, pivoting to the red brick building fifty feet ahead. ”Ugh, fine. Let”s just go.” She didn”t wait for me or Sara to catch up, either. Instead, her sister and I exchanged a knowing smile and followed Zoe to the school”s front entrance.
“Just wait two more minutes for Dad.” My eyes darted around the parking lot, trying to spot Peter.
“Mom, come on. I’m not waiting. I’m going in,” Zoe spat.
Since the divorce, Zoe harbored a simmering anger toward the world. I tried therapy with the girls, but that didn’t work because they refused to speak. I tried everything, really. Zoe was the one who took it the hardest, whereas Sara, the younger twin by two minutes, had a heart built to forgive.
I stared at all the happy parents dropping their kids off, and it wasn’t like I envied them, especially the mothers. I just wanted to feel normal again. It had been four years since Peter and I divorced, and while we co-parented pretty well, our relationship beyond that was a struggle. I had no desire to speak to him; all Peter wanted to do was be my buddy.
“I love you, Mom,” said Sara, shaking my arm for a second before letting go and joining Zoe for the first walk-in of the school year.
“I love you too, baby.” I kissed Sara’s brunette locks and released her, swallowing the growing lump in my throat. I took a deep, calming breath as I watched them disappear into the school. Something about the first day of school always awoke my anxiety. Maybe it was the new beginning, or maybe it was the unknown. Whatever it was, I needed to shake it off and move on with my day.
I peered down at my cream blouse, spotting a coffee stain. “Crap.”
“No cursing on school grounds,” said a taunting voice I knew too well.
My head shot up from my soiled shirt, and there he was, in all his well-rested glory: Peter, my ex and the father to our girls. I squinted, eyeing his immaculate appearance. How did he always look effortlessly put together in his perfect pale-yellow polo that hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist with navy cargo shorts hanging right above his knee? Not even a single strand of sandy hair was out of place. He was the perfect male specimen but born with imperfect intentions. In short, Peter broke my heart, and while he was thriving, I was silently trying to heal every lonely night.
“Where are the girls?” Peter held up his hands, palms up.
I rolled my eyes, so typical. “They just went in.”
“Tell them to come back out.” Peter’s ice-blue eyes popped.
“It’s too late. You’ll see them again this week.” I shrugged and walked to my car, bumping shoulders with Peter.
“Hey, you did that on purpose.” Peter was hot on my heels. “What are you pissed or something?”
“No. I’m just used to this a little too much.” I continued to my car, not daring to look back.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter stepped on the back of my heel, and I fell forward, catching myself just in time against the passenger door of my car. “Hey! Careful,” I snarled.
“Sorry, are you okay?” Peter frowned and bent down to assess the damage.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re pissed at me.” He planted his hands on his hips.
“I’m not. I just want to go to fucking work.”
Just then, a happy couple, similar in age to us, walked by Peter and me and shot us a scowl.
“Keep your voice down,” Peter warned, inching closer. God, why did he always smell like sweet cinnamon? “Why are you so mad?”
“Zoe is mad all the time. I guess it’s rubbing off.” I walked to the other side of my car and flung the door open. My watch told me that I would officially be late to work if I didn’t book it from the school in five minutes.
“Do you think we should try therapy again?” Peter followed me around. The guy just couldn’t get a clue when to get lost.
“We’ll talk about it later. I have to go to work now.” I collapsed into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. Peter flung his muscled arm against the car door, stopping me from shutting him out.
“I had to drive Joel to the station this morning. He’s starting a new job and was nervous. He said he’d only calm down if I drove him.” Peter’s bottomless orbs begged me to forgive him. Except, I just didn’t want to. I knew he prioritized Joel before the girls, and they knew it, too.
“I don’t care.” I pulled the door, but Peter’s strength trumped my efforts. “Peter, let go of the door. I have to go.” I clenched my jaw.
“Why are you always so angry?” He twisted his face and loosened his grip.
“Because I don’t want you to try and make me feel bad for Joel. He doesn’t give a shit about our kids. So, what makes you think I care about him?”
Peter pursed his lips and jammed his hands into his pockets. “That’s not true. You’ve always painted Joel to be some selfish monster.”
And that was exactly how I viewed Peter’s boyfriend, Joel. He was the one to convince Peter to leave his family overnight without the slightest explanation, and what was even worse? He convinced Peter that everything that had gone wrong in Peter’s life was my fault. And my inability to understand Peter’s needs. What my ex-husband failed to express to me throughout our marriages was that he was actually homosexual and essentially married me to appease his conservative, buttoned-up parents.
“I’ll talk to you later. Hopefully, the girls will finish their dinner by seven if you’d like to call then.” I glanced at my ex, who couldn’t make eye contact with me anymore, stared at his caramel boat shoes, and finally shut the door.
“Oh my God. What does he want from you? Friendship?” Amelia asked, gasping as I recounted my morning over coffee in my office. She was my best friend from childhood, and somehow, we managed to end up working for the same marketing firm. I was now her boss, since a year ago after my promotion to senior vice president of the Northeast region. Amelia turned all the right heads whenever she walked into a room. Her dark wavy hair fell easily past her shoulders, and her intense onyx eyes and olive skin would make any creature with a pulse take a second look.
“I really don’t know anymore. I’ve never acted nasty since the divorce but haven’t been sweet as pie.” I shook my head, taking a bite of a stale blueberry scone. The pastry didn’t even taste good. I was simply consuming the treat because it was fattening. “It’s like Peter just irritates me. And I think you’re right. He does want to know that he and I can be buddies.”
“Buddies.” Amelia’s fierce, deadpan expression matched mine. “He sounds like the biggest tool in the shed.” She popped a plump red grape into her mouth and lifted a wicked eyebrow.
“What?” A rush of heat flooded my cheeks. Whenever Amelia painted a mischievous smile across her face, I always braced myself for what would spill from her sexually free mouth.
“Do you know what you need?” Amelia splayed her manicured red nails against the Lucite desk.
“Don’t say it.” I held up a silencing hand.
“You need to find a guy who will fuck your brains out.”
I nearly choked on my dry scone. “Okay, enough said. Breakfast is over.”
“What? Why?” Amelia’s innocent hands begged for me to stop. “Look at you. You’re hot, Julia. Don’t let that prick, Peter, make you feel anything less. Seriously, when was the last time you had sex? Do you know how many men in New York would kill to have you for a night?” A killer red fingernail pointed right at my chest.
As much as I hated hearing the truth, I understood her point. Unfortunately, I failed to follow her advice.
“I don’t like having sex with people I don’t care about. Don’t try to make me someone I’m not.” Like you, I wanted to add but bit my tongue last second. I chucked the rest of my breakfast into the garbage, collapsed into the white swivel chair, and gazed into the parking lot from the panoramic window. The lot was filled against a crystal-clear sky. We had moved offices about a year ago from Manhattan to Long Island, and I had never been happier. As much as I loved the city and its energy, commuting daily as a full-time single parent was taxing. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just sometimes everything in me threatens to explode.”
“I know what it’s like.” Amelia frowned her perfect thick lips. “I remember when I divorced Anthony; I thought I’d never feel normal. But then, I decided to open a door I was scared of. And I never looked back. It really changed everything for me. I’m saying that when you’re ready, try to open that door.”
“It’s been four years now. Each day, I feel like it’s getting harder. When I start to date, I can’t just think about what I want and need. I need to consider the girls, too. My standards have completely changed because of Zoe and Sara.” My nails dug into my palms, threatening to break the skin. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”
Amelia moved her chair closer to mine and put her arm around my shoulders. “No, Julia. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’ve been through a lot, and it’s normal to feel like you do. I just want to see you happy.”
I leaned into her embrace. “I know,” I whispered, closing my eyes.
Amelia smoothed my hair with a calming hand like she always had for months after my marriage crumbled. We had been through so much as friends, and she was the epitome of what a best friend embodied. She just had an insane sexual appetite and wasn’t afraid to show it, especially after her divorce. Sometimes, I envied Amelia’s confidence and strength.
“Maybe you need something different,” Amelia suggested, her voice low. “Someone who can bring you out of your shell and make you feel alive again.”
“I just feel like such a fool still.” I pulled away from her embrace. “How could I not know Peter was gay? I mean, there were some signs, but nothing obvious.”
“Peter has always been the master of playing the part at the moment. What he did to you at the end, though, was inexcusable. Trying to pin his unhappiness on you when it was him who wasn’t honest.”
“He was dishonest.” I nodded.
“So fucking dishonest,” Amelia shrieked, throwing her head back. She popped around my desk, throwing out her garbage. “The divorce wasn’t your fault.”
“Am I crazy that I feel bad for Peter?” I dropped my forehead into my hands. My emotions when it came to this man sent me into a spiral.
“Yes. Yes, you are.” Amelia crossed her arms. “I bet there isn’t a bone in his body that feels bad how he lied to you and had an affair with Joel. Who he treats better than he ever did you.”
I blinked away, fatigued. I never quite shook from the divorce and gazed at my beautiful friend. “I don’t know. I guess I need to stop feeling bad for him.”
“Yes, you do. And you know why?” Amelia resumed sitting, crossing her toned legs. “Because you were the one who ultimately got hurt. You weren’t prepared for what he did to you. That is why I don’t feel bad for him. You’re still struggling. Peter is not.”
“You’re right.” I fought a sudden chill. One I often had whenever a piece of my heart extended for Peter. “So, how much is today’s therapy session?”
“Honey, you don’t even want to know. You can’t afford me.” Amelia winked.
Just then, my computer chimed, telling me it was time for our breakfast to end. “There it is. Today’s meeting is at eleven.” I shooed Amelia. “Okay, we need to get back to work before people think we’re involved.” My fingers took over and clacked away on the keyboard, responding to the dozens of emails in my inbox.
“I wouldn’t mind.” Amelia stood, smoothing her black blazer with gold studded buttons. “What’s for dinner tonight? I need some ideas. I’m supposed to cook for Jim.”
“Oh, Jim?” I raised an eyebrow. “Things are getting serious?”
“No, not really. Eating out is expensive and…” Amelia trailed off. “You know how the date always ends.” She shrugged. “Might as well make it convenient.”
I laughed. “Oh, you know where I’ve been wanting to try? That Italian gourmet supermarket. Everyone raves about it.”
“Stelvio’s? They’ve been here the last few years. Everyone loves it there. I even go.” Amelia walked to the door, resting her hand on the knob.
“Well, the girls are kind of picky eaters. They either want pasta or cheese melted onto a plate.” I snorted. “Kids are so weird sometimes.” But I loved my daughters. They were life.
“Try Stelvio’s. Go after work, you’ll have time. And from what I’ve heard, the owner’s wife is the sweetest person and knows a lot of people, if you know what I mean.” Amelia did a wink, wink.
My face dropped. Could we not talk about my lack of male attention for once?
“And just maybe, she’ll know someone for you.”