Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
I was eating better than I ever had. And because of that, and the magic of the second trimester, I was feeling somewhat like a human again.
“I may talk shit about a lot of American cuisine, but the humble casserole is truly one of your country’s greatest accomplishments,” I said, pushing my plate away and staring enviously at the glass of wine I’d urged Nora to drink.
“You don’t have to stay with him,” she said, frowning at her own plate, which she’d cleaned. It said a lot about Kip’s skills that two women who were holding a nasty grudge against him could not abstain from his cooking on principle.
“With Kip?” I feigned ignorance. Of course, I knew who she was talking about. She had a particular expression and tone when speaking about Kip these days. Her mouth went tight, her brows furrowed, nostrils flared. Although she didn’t speak about him, or to him, if she could help it. Though she was Nora, who was physically incapable of fully ignoring someone. So, she said hello to him and tried her best to scowl when she said it.
He made himself pretty scarce when she was here.
And when she wasn’t.
“Yes, Kip.” She screwed up her nose as she said his name as if it was offensive to her. “You can kick him out. Divorce him.”
I’d been waiting for this. If the situation were reversed and my best friend was married, knocked up, and her husband was being an absolute asshole about it, I’d set fire to his car.
Then I’d suggest she divorce him.
As if it were that simple.
Not that even regular divorce was simple.
If such a thing as a regular divorce existed.
“I can’t kick him out or divorce him,” I told her honestly, contemplating a second plate of casserole.
“Yes, you can,” she argued. “If you’re worried about being a single mother, then you don’t have to worry because I’ll be there for you.”
“You have a daughter,” I pointed out, nodding to the child sleeping in her car seat that was on the kitchen counter. “You’ve kind of got to focus on her. And a business.”
“I can multitask,” she said. “It takes a village to raise a child. You were there for me through my entire pregnancy and the birth. Which was gross.”
“It wasn’t gross,” I argued, thinking back on the day Ana Derrick came into the world. It was beautiful and hard all at once.
Nora’s cheeks flushed. “I pooped,” she stage-whispered.
I chuckled. “Everyone poops.”
“You won’t,” she accused. “I bet you won’t.”
“I’ll poop just for you,” I told her, patting her hand.
“Thank you,” she replied, picking up her wineglass to take a hearty sip. “Now, back to Kip. I understand that he has his own issues, but that doesn’t mean he gets to abandon his wife.”
I frowned at her. There it was again, the hint that she knew something I didn’t. “What do you mean, ‘his own issues’?”
Nora leaned over to check on Ana. “I mean he was over-deployed with Rowan,” she said. “He saw fucked-up shit, and then he self-medicated with being a manwhore for years.” She stroked Ana’s sleeping face. “Then in a short period of time, he got with you, fell in love, and got married. I’m sure it was kind of a rocky transition for him, because men are weak creatures who don’t seem to handle change and responsibility.” She turned back to me. “But he’s had more than enough time to get used to it, get his shit together, and be there for you. He hasn’t.”
I pursed my lips, trying to ignore the burning hurt in my stomach that had existed since I told Kip I was pregnant.
“He hasn’t,” I agreed.
“So, divorce him.”
“It’s not that simple,” I tried again.
Nora inspected me with a fraught look on her face. “You’re not telling me something.”
My cheeks felt hot, and I got up to get myself more casserole, mostly because I really wanted it and also because I couldn’t sit in front of my friend and lie to her face.
“I’m not not telling you anything,” I said as I scooped a healthy helping onto my plate. “We might’ve jumped into this marriage quickly, but I’m not going to jump into a divorce quickly.” I put my hand on my stomach. “For better or for worse, I’m growing his baby, and if it makes it—”
“When your baby makes it,” Nora interrupted in a firm tone.
I smiled, wishing my fierce and loving friend had powers over such things. “When it makes it,” I conceded, even though I wasn’t entirely convinced just yet. “He’s going to be connected to me—to us,” I corrected, thinking about the small human inside me. “Forever. Whether or not I divorce him right now will not change that.” I turned to look at my best friend. “I’m reserving the right to kick him out and divorce him at a later date if he doesn’t get his shit together,” I said, comfortable with facing her now that I was speaking something closer to the truth.