Chapter 8 Salvador Dalí Made It a Point to Steal Pens #4
“Marriage is always real!” Bree’s expression fell somewhere between baffled and downright annoyed.
“I married the father of my child, with whom all previous interactions had taken place under the influence of alcohol. I’m pretty sure my parents married each other out of spite.
The only thing we all have in common is the very real piece of paper at the center of it. ”
“We’re going to get divorced.”
“So you’re stuck going back to your shitty old plan? What do you even want from this?”
“I don’t know. I want…”
Lainey had never allowed herself to plan her life this far in advance before.
She didn’t do goals or dreams. She hardly allowed herself to want anything she couldn’t easily get for herself.
Depending on anyone else when even her own body could let her down felt a bit like pinning all her hopes on a discounted spell from a three-star Etsy witch.
And yet, here she was, making plans that lived and died on the vows of an inconveniently attractive co-conspirator.
“I want him to buy my house. Then I’ll have the money to start over somewhere new.
I can travel, just like I always said I would.
Camille left a lot to be desired as a mother, but she did give me French citizenship.
I can go there…take advantage of the French health-care system. See, I’m making plans. That’s growth!”
“You’re hatching schemes, Laine. Schemes are not plans.
” Bree pressed her lips together, like she was debating whether to swallow a thought or assault her friend with it.
She opted for violence. “I feel like this is Hayden all over again.” She let the words fall out of her mouth as though they weren’t the single cruelest thing she could’ve said.
Lainey felt her chest seize, though she froze to appear unaffected by the question. “Why would this be anything like it was with Hayden?”
“He had a way of making you feel desperate—”
“Desperate?” Lainey spat.
Bree’s face grew soft. “Cornered, I mean. Scared. Like you had to do it his way or you’d lose everything.”
Hayden had been Lainey’s first and, unfortunately, most formative adult relationship.
At the time, bartenders were still scrutinizing Lainey’s brand-new ID for signs of fraud, but she’d been an “old soul”—or at least that was what Hayden, fifteen years her senior, had always said.
He had a way of making compliments sound like accusations and accusations sound like pleas for mercy.
You’re such an old soul, he’d tell her. Like his perception of her maturity at the age of twenty-one was some sort of manipulation on her part. She was a siren, a dangerous temptation, luring him into his undoing.
Bree had been seeing three different therapists of various modalities at the time and was quick to name her relationship with Hayden in a way Lainey hadn’t been ready to do. Upon reflection, Lainey had always known it wasn’t healthy, even if she’d made a million excuses for his behavior.
He loved her too much. He was too passionate. He was protective. He needed more from her. Or less, depending on his mood.
Hayden always had a long list of needs she was failing to meet at the ready, while her needs were somewhat inconsequential to him.
But she was so different back then. So needy.
So desperate to hold on to what she thought was love that she’d let him slip under her skin, feeding from her like a parasite until she was an empty shell.
The whole thing lasted only nine months. Not long enough to cause any real damage. Bree still monitored his social media, but Lainey had him blocked. She preferred it that way. Out of sight, completely out of mind.
“Honestly, I can’t even remember the last time I thought about Hayden,” Lainey said, shifting her weight to her back foot.
And it was true. She used to think about him more when she was dating someone, but when she gave up on all that, the ruminating over their relationship—the signs she missed, the ways in which she feared someone’s affections would turn ugly—stopped, too.
It had been years since she thought to remember him.
“You swear?” Bree’s hands moved to her hips. She was breathing hard.
“I swear. Now, can you sit down?” Lainey pulled out a chair from the table before moving in the direction of the kitchen.
“I’m sorry.” Bree held her belly as she sat. “You used to keep secrets when you were with him. Then you hid this from me, and you never do that…”
“I should’ve told you.” Lainey poured a glass of water from the Brita and handed it to her. “I thought you’d try to talk me out of it.”
Bree took a long drink as she relaxed into the chair. “I would’ve. It’s a stupid plan. If you really needed insurance, I would’ve married you.”
Lainey smiled. “I know, and I couldn’t let Lozenge grow up in a broken home.”
“It’s Pastille, not…are French people really going to think I named my daughter Lozenge?”
Lainey let out an airy chuckle. She was glad Bree knew about the marriage, even if she didn’t wholly approve.
“Oui. Je suis désolé.”
“Fine, Baby Lozenge is out.” Bree blew a strand of hair out her face. “And tell your ‘husband’ he’s safe to come back in.”