Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Daphne straightens in her seat at the mention of her husband, providing a small smile. “He’s upstairs right now, actually.”
“Not away for work?”
“Not this time,” she chimes. Her eyes drop to my left wrist, locking on my bangles. Or I think she’s looking at my bangles.
“Well, that’s a first.” I huff a laugh, adjusting one of the bracelets to cover the bruise. “But who am I to even say that, right? Dominic’s always away.” And distant. So very distant. Mentally and physically.
“I get it, trust me.” Daphne looks me up and down, watching as I sip my coffee. Neither of us have touched the croissant. I have my reasons, but I wonder what Daphne’s are.
For me, I have a massive sweet tooth and, during college, I was fifty pounds heavier than I am today and could hardly walk up the stairs on campus without breaking a sweat. Sweets had become my enemy, plus it wasn’t until I’d lost the weight that Dominic noticed me. Daphne was always my friend though. We were roommates at Duke University actually, indulging in sweets at the local bakery, oblivious (or uncaring) to the calories we consumed.
I woke up one day and had had enough of eating myself into a coma, waking up with headaches, and feeling like crap. I was tired of being made fun of and crying myself to sleep about it. I began working out at the campus gym twice a day between my studies. I’d changed my life and swore to never go back to being that sad, fat girl. I was worth more. Daddy always said so. Mom too, in her own cold way.
I take my mind off of my weight and focus on Daphne with a bright smile. I really am happy to see her.
“We’ll be taking a trip soon,” she says. “Ricardo and me.”
“Really? When? Where to?”
She hesitates. “I . . . can’t say. But it’ll be next month, and I’ll take pictures and show them to you when I’m back.”
“That would be nice.”
Daphne sips her coffee, the slurping filling the silence. “So have you found out what’s really going on with Dominic?”
There it is. That monstrous elephant in the room. I’m glad she’s asked. The last time I spoke to her, two days ago, I’d called her crying like a teenage girl. I found an email on his laptop while reviewing his speech. An email from a woman named Nia Hall. Nia hadn’t said anything important in the email really, just that she enjoyed one of his interviews and couldn’t wait to see him at the next rally. Dominic had responded—a little too flirtatiously in my opinion—and told Nia he would be looking for her. Sure, it could’ve been a genuine response, but I know my husband, and deep in my gut there is more to it.
“I haven’t yet.” I run a finger along the handle of the porcelain white mug. “But I know he’s hiding something, Daph. He’s been weird lately. Sort of pulling away. For a while, I was blaming myself for it, thinking maybe I was pushing him too hard, but all I want is for him to succeed, you know? Well, it was what I wanted.”
She nods, her eyes rounding.
“He came from nothing. Literally nothing. I’ve done so much for him.”
“He should be grateful he found you,” Daphne says.
“He should, right?”
Daphne nods, then twists her lips. “If he’s having an affair . . .” Her voice trails, and my heart wrenches tight in my chest. “You can’t just pull away, can you? Imagine what the press will be like? All those people wondering why the governor and his wife are splitting up in the middle of a campaign. Not that I think you should stay with the asshole, but timing is important, and you deserve to walk away unscathed.”
I work to swallow the bitter taste of coffee lingering in my mouth, then rub the tip of my nose. “You’re right, girl. I’m just so tired of dealing with him. I want this marriage to be over.”
“Aw, Jo.” She reaches across the glass table, taking my hand. “I’m so sorry. You deserve far better. I know how it is in marriage, though. And I won’t blame you if you decide to make it work. As badly as we want to be done, we manage to stick. Because, regardless of the shitty aspects, working it out is much easier than ending it all.” I know she’s talking about herself too.
I sigh, picking up my coffee with the other hand. Footsteps venture our way and I glance over my shoulder as Daphne’s husband, Ricardo, enters the kitchen.
Ricardo Juarez is what women would call tall, dark, and handsome. His dark hair is cut into a low buzz cut, and he wears jeans and a solid black shirt. His skin, usually a light yellow brown, is tanned like he’s traveled somewhere sunny recently. It’s now a golden color. It looks good on him.