Chapter 3
SUGAR BESTIE
My Life Would Suck Without You by Kelly Clarkson · It’s OK by Tom Rosenthal
Natalie
“Did anyone other than Allie like this book?” Roe asks with her typical attitude, hating every book we read. If it’s not a dark romance or a book that tears our hearts apart, she dislikes them. I can’t relate to that. I like all books, stories, and genres.
Book club night is my favorite night. It’s the only time I get to talk to adults while the kids are away and I’m not working.
“I did,” Nellie, the youngest in our friend group, says.
“Of course you would. You and Allie are the only two people in the world who enjoy every single book we read,” Roe replies.
“And me,” I add.
I’m always left out of the conversations.
I’m not sure if it’s because I’m the only one with older kids, so I wasn’t able to do things like party at Saddlers, the local bar, or travel the country like a sleepy and very pregnant Cara.
Cara—my oldest friend, who’s napping from her permanent spot on the corner of the sage green couch across from me.
Her feet are tucked beneath her, allowing space on the floor for Roe, who’s sitting crisscross on top of the worn beige rug with her back to Cara.
Roe is the town’s black cat, badass queen, and I swear, she’s my kids’ favorite auntie. We became quite close a few years ago when Cara forced her to start hanging out with us. Her boyfriend, Thiago, or Saint as she calls him, is part of the crew now too. Our very broken but close-knit group.
On the brown couch by her are Allie, Livie, and Nellie. Allie, the best friend a girl could ask for and the best auntie to my kids. I’m so thankful for her and how present she’s been since Nick died.
Nellie is Cara’s little sister, the complete opposite of Cara in every way except for their green eyes. They’re dating twin brothers. Allie’s brothers. Well, Cara married hers, and Nellie's is about to propose to her, but she doesn’t know.
And here, in Nick’s nana's rocking chair, I am. Thankfully, I have all these girls to help me navigate life without him. They’re the reason I won’t move away from Baker Oaks.
My parents moved to the mountains near their vineyard over a decade ago and have zero interest in moving back, even for me.
I refuse to move so far away from my support group, so here we are.
“So whose turn is it to pick the next book? Is it you, Nat?” Allie asks, startling me from my thoughts.
Livie, our other friend, looks at me with her dark, sad eyes. Livie joined our group a few years ago when she married Alex, who grew up in Baker too. I should probably give us a name. The broken crew or something.
Alex, Jake, Cara’s ex Cole, and Nick all used to play football together. Alex and Jake got injured, Cole is an asshole and moved away, thank God, and Nick, well, Nick’s dead.
I shake my head and look back at Livie, who keeps track of everything ever since she started tracking her cycles, including who’s picking the next book.
“I think it’s my turn, but I don’t really want to make decisions. I’ll read anything, just tell me what.” If I can go all my life without making a single decision again, that would be great.
That’s a lie, but still. Wishful thinking, maybe?
They all stop for a minute to consider, and maybe it’s the silence that wakes Cara up.
“Is it over?” she asks with a groggy smile, and we all laugh. I love that sunshine girl with all my heart, but she’s turning into a little blob with the pregnancy.
“Baby Charlie doing a number on you, huh?” I ask, touching my belly on reflex. I have mixed feelings about pregnancies—or the inability to ever get pregnant again, that is. Uterus yeeted and all.
They all know it too, which is why they’re staring at me with fear behind their eyes. I’m not the only one with a touchy relationship with pregnancies in this group, but I don’t dare look at Livie.
“Y’all, it’s okay. We’re allowed to talk about pregnancy. I’ve said it before. Just because my uterus doesn’t exist anymore doesn’t mean I don’t get to join you when you’re all excited about yours. Pregnancy is tough on the body; that’s why I made the comment. Stop walking on eggshells around me.”
They’re so careful, and I love them for it, but it gets old quick. I have two beautiful, healthy daughters. Was I done? No. But when my life was at risk and the choice was leaving my girls orphans or losing the ability to carry another human, I chose the second.
What a life. Thirty-two, a widow without a womb, and a house full of broken things that used to be filled with laughter and joy. One of these days, I might fix them, but where is the budget for them? Until then, whatever.
The hint of guilt threatens to consume me. How can I be so ungrateful when I’m alive? Unlike him.
“Cara, are you still throwing up?” I ask, trying to break the uncomfortable silence.
She shakes her head, sitting up and pulling her long blonde hair away from her face. “Just exhausted all the time. That’s why I told you I couldn’t commit to taking Bella to practice.”
“What practice?” Roe asks.
“Bella wants to play hockey, and I can’t take her, so I asked Cara, since she’s the one with the most flexible schedule,” I reply before turning back to Cara and adding, “It’s okay.
She’ll have to pick something local and less expensive.
There’s no way I can manage the shop, Vero’s therapy, and taking her on two hour trips multiple times a week for practice and games. ”
I love being a mom. I love being their mom.
But parenting for eleven years with the most involved partner and then losing him unexpectedly has meant more than a few adjustments.
Vero needs occupational and speech therapy several times a week.
She’s brilliant, but complications at birth affected her development.
Between that, running the store, and driving Bella to and from places, I have no time for anything else.
“Why didn’t you ask me? I have so much time,” Roe answers, making me laugh at the absurdity.
I laugh because this girl owns two businesses and races motocross. So much time, my ass. It kills me to ask for help for regular things. I don’t want to ask for extra.
“Roe. You’re the busiest person I know.”
“I’m not racing anymore, and I don’t have to go to the bar every day. I can schedule my tattoo appointments around her practices…and I can sketch while I wait for her. Where are the practices at?”
“Lake City,” I reply. Lake City is about a forty-five minute drive west of here, and it’s either that or Jacksonville. Jacksonville is so busy and big. I don’t feel comfortable letting my teenager go without me.
“We can all take turns,” Nellie says. She used to be Bella’s school counselor, and they have a great relationship.
“I can’t ask that of all of you.”
“Do you want her to play hockey?” Roe asks.
I contemplate my answer.
Do I want her to play a sport where she can be thrown into a piece of glass? No.
Do I want her to pick something with less contact? Yes.
Do I think she deserves a chance to try things she has never tried before? Yes.
Do I think her father would’ve liked her to try any sport as long as she was moving her body? Yes.
“It’s a matter of what she wants and whether I can make it happen for her. I have to see about the price too, because Vero’s therapy is already so expensive.”
“I’ll pay for it.”
“No,” I add. Roe is always trying to pay for things, and although I let her sometimes, I can’t with this.
“Remember the whole parents died and left me a shit ton of money so at least I wouldn’t be sad and broke? Enroll her and add me as an approved adult or whatever it’s called. I’ll handle the rest,” Roe replies.
My mouth drops.
“Roe, I can’t let you do that,” I say, earning me a smile from all my friends.
“Let me be your sugar bestie, Nat.”
Nellie spits her drink, and Allie shakes her head.
“My what?”
“You know, like, instead of a sugar daddy. Can’t have that when the DDC exists.”
“Roe!” Cara shouts, her eyes wide as she looks at me. Ah, the DDC, Roe’s self-proclaimed club, so she says. The Dead Dad Club. She hates belonging to it, but according to her, if she doesn’t laugh, she’ll cry.
“Damn, my bad.” Roe shrugs. That girl has zero filter.
“It’s alright,” I say, very familiar with Roe and her dark sense of humor. I let my words hang, because I know she means well, but I’m not there yet. My dad is still alive, so I don’t belong to the club, but my girls unfortunately do, and I’m not ready to smile about it.
“Back to the problem at hand… I got her. I’m going to spoil the hell out of that kid and earn the favorite aunt status.”
“Just no tattoos,” I reply, wiping the tears dropping from my wide-open faucet eyes.
Never in my life have I cried as much as I have now that I started therapy.
It’s like all the tears I didn’t shed when I was terrified of living my life without Nick finally have permission to fall, and they haven’t stopped.
I look around and see unwavering compassion from all my friends. It tugs at my heart and makes me whisper a thank you into the air to whomever or whatever put them in our paths. They don’t pity me; they truly want to help.
I let out a breath and whisper, “Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow with more info.”
“Yassss! Okay, now that we got that out of the way, it’s time for hard truth time,” Livie whispers, her dark chocolate eyes glimmering with excitement.
We started this ‘game’ around a year ago, when we realized we were all holding back how we were truly feeling.
Almost like truth or dare, but just truth.
It can be happy or sad, but we have to share something we’re keeping.
It’s been cathartic, and it has made us closer.
Nellie came up with the idea. She does something similar with her students.
“I’m tired all the time, and I can’t wait for this baby to get out,” Cara says, and we all laugh.
All of us except Livie.