Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“Elizabeth!” Neil called after her, and he sidled past me to chase her.
I stood there, reeling. That was Elizabeth? His ex-wife, Elizabeth?
His ex-wife Elizabeth whom he’d divorced when she wanted a baby.
And I was here with him, holding baby stuff, while he talked loudly about how excited he was for a new baby.
So. That was awkward.
The women who had been shopping for their crib looked up, startled, then looked back at me. One of them leaned toward the other and whispered something. I didn’t know what she’d said, but I was somehow compelled to blurt, “I’m not his mistress! That’s his ex-wife. They’re divorced.”
At that point, the baby monitor guy and Sasha the saleslady were looking at me. Out the window, Neil reached for Elizabeth’s elbow, and she whirled on him, shouting. I couldn’t hear what.
“They got divorced because she wanted kids and he didn’t, and now, I’m marrying him. She saw me in the baby store, so…” I shrugged. Why was I telling this entire boutique full of people all of my personal business? I was having some weird out-of-body, out-of-mouth experience, probably so I could effectively repress my humiliation later.
“Wait a minute, is that Neil Elwood?” the non-pregnant woman said, and it startled me because I’d never really seen him get recognized before. The woman looked totally thrilled, like she was spotting a celebrity. Then, she said, “I know who you are! I saw your book in O Magazine,” and I realized that the big famous person she thought she was meeting was me. She gestured to my midsection, where I still clutched the baby bikini. “Congratulations!”
“About the book, or…” That wasn’t what she’d been getting at. I whipped the swimsuit behind my back. “Oh, no. No no. I am not pregnant. I mean, thank god. I don’t even like kids.” I made a what-are-you-gonna-do kind of face.
Both women gaped at me in horror, and I decided it was time to go. Outside, Neil had his hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders. I pushed the little bikini at the saleswoman. “We’ll just take this, Sasha.”
I handed over my credit card and watched out the window right along with the couple and the guy on the phone. Sasha’s gaze kept flitting that way, too. I mentally urged her along so I could get the hell out of there. When she handed me the bag, my card and my receipt, I made a hasty exit.
On the sidewalk, Neil was hugging Elizabeth. She looked up at me and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I am so embarrassed.”
“Sophie, this is Elizabeth,” Neil said, stepping back to put his arm around my waist. “Elizabeth, this is Sophie.”
“I read your book, Sophie. It was excellent.” She looked up at Neil and nodded, clearly struggling to hold back her tears. “Well, I have to go. It was nice to meet you. And, again, I’m sorry.”
She walked away a few steps, and Neil called out, “Elizabeth.”
When she turned back, I noticed what her huge purse had hidden before; a swollen belly that her coat didn’t quite close over. Her eyes were filled with fresh tears; one had spilled down her cheek.
Neil’s expression faltered then bent into a smile of sympathy. “It was good to see you. And congratulations.”
She nodded and turned away.
I had no idea what to say to Neil. I lifted the bag. “I bought the baby bikini.”
He broke off his stare to turn to me. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do, so I ran after her.”
I shrugged. “She was in pain. You loved her once, and you wanted to help her. I get it.”
“She thought, naturally…” His gaze dropped to the sidewalk. “Emma hadn’t told her about the pregnancy. She was quite hurt by that.”
We got into the car. Our light, happy Saturday had taken a dark turn. We pulled away from the curb, and Neil said, “There isn’t a woman in my life I haven’t hurt.”
That knocked the wind out of me. I couldn’t argue, because I couldn’t speak.
“Neil, you haven’t hurt me.” I put my hand on his knee.
“Haven’t I?” He didn’t take his eyes from the traffic ahead of us. “I can think of so many times I’ve said something careless. And I threw a wine bottle against the wall and frightened you.”
“I am not going to hold that one against you.” Whatever was said or done out of rape trauma was totally excusable in my book. “Look, there are times when we fight and say hurtful things. All couples do it. You haven’t permanently scarred me or anything. I’ve never been afraid of you. I think you’re just shaken up about seeing your ex-wife, and now, you’re down on yourself because you feel bad.”
He wanted to stay mad at himself, but apparently, I’d talked some sense into him. “You’re right. I was simply unprepared. I hadn’t seen her in a long time.”