Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114058 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
My heart was thumping as I went through the self-scan checkout, shoving my card in the reader before I could change my mind.
It felt exhilarating, and indulgent and strangely naughty. It felt good.
I sang along to the radio on the way home, hoping that everyone had slept through my late night disappearance. They had. Of course they had. They weren’t babies anymore, weren’t glued to me 24/7. They had Nanna, and Mia was almost old enough to babysit herself. It was only me who worried about leaving them, worried about going out for five minutes and not being there.
Only me who worried about everything all the time.
Back at home, I tried on my new undies and scoped myself out in my wardrobe mirror. Sure, I had a belly podge, but show me a mother of two kids who doesn’t. The rest of me looked pretty alright. I’d lost weight without realising it, and admittedly I didn’t have the ass I’d had a decade earlier at sweet nineteen — but it was still fairly pert and curved in the right places. My waist dipped in enough to give me a half-decent shape. My thighs were a little wobbly but who really cares? And my tits… well… they looked so much better in a decent push-up bra.
I’d pass. Whatever passing even means. It wasn’t hideous… it was certainly a lot better than the shape I’d been presenting in plain, comfortable — yeah, ok, over-sized — clothes.
By the time I went to bed I’d managed to turn a full 180, convincing myself I’d wasted a pile of money for nothing, and nobody would even notice the difference. Convincing myself I was running a fool’s errand just because some salon-perfect woman had crossed my path down the garage. But despite all the self-talk, I couldn’t shake off this little pang of something. Excitement? Relief?
Hope?
I don’t know what it was, but it sure felt good. Underneath the resignation and the embarrassment and the fear, there was something alive and kicking. It was so alien I could hardly fathom it.
I wondered when I’d written myself off. From being a woman, I mean — because that’s what it felt like, ultimately. Like somehow, somewhere along the path, I’d traded in my female identity for some all-encompassing idea of motherhood and a minimum wage job down the cafe. It had happened so slowly, I guess. Losing myself just a tiny little piece at a time; a busy schedule, not enough sleep, a lousy boring boyfriend like Brian…
He’d never fucked me like he wanted me. Not like Darren used to.
With Darren it was raw, and tempestuous, and exciting. In the early days, when we were still good together, he’d fuck me like I was the only woman in the world, the only woman he’d ever want. He’d fuck me with a wildness that I’d never found since — something so real… so unapologetic…
Figures — unapologetic could be Darren Trent’s middle name.
Sleep didn’t come easy. The early hours came and went and I was still wide awake, just thinking — stewing life around in my head. So many questions, so few answers…
Had I really lost myself with Brian? Was that when my life went stale?
No. It wasn’t, and I knew it.
It had started long before that. Long before Darren and I called time out. Long before we even considered calling time out.
It had started when I first had Mia and realised the whole universe had shifted on its axis. That I was no longer just Jodie, Trent’s girlfriend, but Mum, too.
Somewhere along the line I stopped being me and Darren stopped being Darren. We were just… I dunno… two people stuck in a rut together. One long, painful, sour rut.
Oh how it had fucking hurt to let it go.
But we were good with the time out now, had been for years. So many years. It was the right decision for both of us, all of us… we knew that… we both knew that… of course we did…
It was still the right decision. Definitely.
Absolutely one million percent definitely.
I didn’t want him at all, no way. Not even in a tux. Never. Not even a consideration… Not even a fleeting thought in my mind…
I definitely didn’t want Darren Trent…
Especially not in a tux…
And definitely, definitely not enough to reach under my bed for my bodywand…
“You look like a princess, Mum!”
“That lipstick looks super cool!”
“Oh, Jodie, that colour really does suit you. What a lovely top!”
Seeing the shock on their faces cemented the fact that my late night shopping splurge had been the right call. Oh the wonder of a top that actually fitted properly and a splash of Autumn Berry lippy. My choices hadn’t even been that extreme, not really. I could have picked Mystic Plum or Scarlet Harlot. Maybe I would one day. Never say never.