Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108905 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“The part that has sex with him and asks about his day,” I grumbled. “Now that we don’t do one of those things, I don’t feel quite as indispensable as before.”
“Honey, I don’t think you’re being fair to yourself. Neil loves you. Right now, though, he’s not the Neil you married.”
I took a sip from the wine cooler and thought about the massive implication of her words. “You noticed.”
It disturbed me that she had. That meant it was more than something just I was seeing.
“Of course I did.” Her brows drew together in a sympathetic look that wasn’t comforting, so much as pitying. “I honestly think you and Olivia are why he’s still going. Just because he’s not interested in…being physically intimate with you, doesn’t mean he doesn’t need you.”
I had to concede that she was right. “I think I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”
“You have a right to,” Mom asserted. “Something terrible has happened to your family, and it’s changed your life, and it’s unfair. But you’ve been so focused on Neil and his loss that you can’t see yours. He’s never going to be the person he was before, so in a way, you need to mourn that loss, too.”
Damn it. I didn’t want to cry, but here the tears came. I wiped them away. “I don’t feel like I have the right.”
“You have every right to feel whatever you feel,” she said. And she was using Mom voice, so I knew she meant business. “How you feel isn’t an issue. It’s how you act. And you’ve been doing fine. I’m proud of you for how you’ve gotten through this. I truly am.”
“Thanks, Mom. I actually really need to hear that.” But it was time for a subject change. “I am done being sad for tonight. Now, I’m going to finish this wine cooler, and you’re going to tell me what’s been happening with Bey and Blue Ivy.”
God bless Mom’s love of TMZ.
* * * *
I went into the office and worked my ass off all Thursday morning, because it was past time that I get back into the swing of things. Also, I thought it would make me feel less guilty about taking a lunch. It totally did not, but I took the lunch, anyway.
Gena suggested meeting at the office, but since I didn’t know if she knew about Penny and Ian, or that Penny worked for me, I told her I’d meet her at a little bistro just across the bridge in Manhattan. I arrived first and got us a table. I was fiddling with my phone when she walked in.
If some mid-90’s metal song about boning hot librarians had started playing and a fog machine started up when she entered, I would have been totally on board with that. She wore a tight black pencil skirt and a crisp white blouse. How someone with boobs like hers could manage to wear a button-down was a mystery for the ages; I assumed she had them tailored, because the buttons didn’t gap. Her bulky, cable-knit sweater coat was rich, red ochre, a dull impersonation of her hair color. Those gorgeous tresses coiled up in a sloppy twist, and thick-rimmed black reading glasses served as a makeshift headband.
The last time I’d seen Gena, we’d just been naked and sweaty together the night before. I wasn’t sure how I was meant to shift gears into being friendly acquaintances, again, especially when I hadn’t seen her in a year, and especially when every centimeter of my skin ached at the sight of her. I pressed my thighs together under the table before I stood to hug her.
“Sophie.” Her breathy, “Santa Baby”-style voice tickled my ear as her arms tightened around me. “It’s so good to see you.”
“Yeah,” I managed to choke out. Where the hell had my poise gone? I was like the nerd in an 80’s movie trying to ask the popular girl to prom. You’re not here to ask her anything. You’re here to have lunch. “You look fantastic.”
“Divorce agrees with me.” She laughed, stepping back. “You look really good, yourself. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting the big smile and the—” She waved her hand up and down, indicating my clothes.
“Oh. Well, I stopped wearing black and rending my garments yesterday,” I quipped, but it felt cheap. Like I was mocking Emma’s death.
“I know you’re joking, but seriously…how are you?” she asked as we took our seats.
“Worse than I expected,” I admitted. “Not that I thought it was going to be a walk in the park, but it’s rough.”
“And Neil?” she asked, shrugging out of her coat. “I can’t imagine how he must be taking all of this.”
“Not well, at all.” It was refreshing to finally say it. She wasn’t as invested in Neil as our close friends were, so I didn’t feel like I had to lie to protect her feelings or keep her from worrying. “But we have Olivia, so that helps.”