Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
With a few swipes of my pen on the dotted line, I feel a weight lift off my shoulders, weight I didn’t realize I was still carrying around until now. I’m free, and it feels good. Or maybe I just feel good. Even with everything that has happened, I’ve been happier, less stressed, and I’m starting to feel a little like my old self. I don’t know if that’s because I’m no longer living my life with the sole purpose of keeping Bowie happy, but whatever it is, I know it’s good.
When the judge dismisses us, we get up and head out the back door side by side. It’s a little odd, given that just a few years ago, we walked into a courthouse together to get our marriage license so we could get married, and now we are leaving one divorced.
“So what are your plans this weekend?” Bowie asks when we step outside.
“I don’t really have any plans since I work Saturday. What are you and Kingston doing?”
“I was thinking I’d take him to check out some cars and to that place he likes with the indoor playground.”
“He’d like that.” I rub my lips together and then do what I don’t want to do but know I need to, because I want honesty between us more than anything. “Kingston told me that he and you had dinner with Naomie.”
“We did.” His expression turns guarded, and I nod.
“I just…. I mean….” Frick, I hate this so much, because I don’t want him to think I care that he’s still seeing Naomie, because I don’t. But I’m worried about my baby. “I wish you would have told me you were going to do that.”
“You asked for a divorce Miranda. You left me, which means you don’t get a say in what I do or who I’m dating.”
“I know,” I say calmly, because his jaw is starting to twitch, and I don’t want to fight with him.
“Good,” he bites out, and I drag in a breath. Okay, so it’s obvious he and I will not be able to talk about his new relationship. Then again, I already knew we wouldn’t, didn’t I?
“I’m going to go.” I adjust my bag on my shoulder and take a step away from him. “Tell Kingston I’ll call him this evening before he goes to bed.”
“I’ll let him know,” he mutters, and I turn on my heels and head for my car.
I arrive at the salon twenty minutes later, because traffic is a mess, and when I pull open the front door, streamers fly through the air around me, making me jump.
“Congratulations!” everyone cheers while Emma rushes to me, wrapping me in a hug.
I laugh as I hug her back, then look through the balloons floating in the air and my friends who are all wearing happy smiles. Some of them I haven’t seen in forever, because being married and having a kid has made it more difficult to get together.
“You guys are the best,” I say softly to Polly, the salon owner, when she hands me a glass flute that looks like it’s filled with orange juice but I’m sure also includes champagne.
“You deserve all the good things.” She rubs my shoulder, and I swallow over the burn in my throat.
“So how are you feeling?” Emma asks as I hug another friend of mine, Fern.
“Good, relieved that it’s done,” I say honestly.
“You seem happier,” my friend Whinny whispers as she hugs me.
“I feel happier,” I whisper back, and she gives me a soft smile when she lets me go.
“Well, I think today calls for a toast.” Emma holds up her glass, and we all do the same. “Here’s to bigger and better dick and men who don’t fuck around.” She winks at me. “Out with the old and in with the new, babe.”
“You’re so crazy.” I laugh.
“I’ll drink to that.” Polly smiles, clinking her glass against mine, and I look through my friends—women I admire, women who have proven they are there for me no matter what.
“Thank you, guys.” I take a sip of my drink, then giggle when the song “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair” starts to play through the overhead speakers.
CHAPTER TWELVE
miranda
When my cell rings, I check the screen, then set the broom I was using to sweep under my station aside and pick up my phone when I see it’s my dad calling. I feel like I’ve spoken to him more in the last month than I have in the past year, and even though I get that he’s worried about me, I think it’s more than that, like some kind of deep-seated guilt he’s holding onto.
He lost his mind when I told him that Bowie had an affair and that we were getting a divorce, and he was so mad I had to talk him down from buying a plane ticket for the sole purpose of flying to Tennessee to “kick Bowie’s ass,” as he put it.