I gasped, and Caroline scolded, “Grammy!”
The anger was rising in my chest. “How could you say anything negative about Adam at a time like this?”
“Darling,” Grammy said. “I’m not saying anything negative about Adam. Adam is perfect. It’s you who’s the problem.”
I wanted to protest again, as tears of humiliation sprung to my eyes. I wanted to fight her on this. But I knew she wasn’t wrong. I had lost myself, and I needed to do something for me—before it was too late.
All the same, I was indignant as I walked back to my bedroom. Who was she to even consider that Adam wouldn’t come home? Of course he would. It was preposterous to consider any other scenario. Still, it would be nice to get out of the house a little bit more. And going back to work would get me to my savings goal much faster.
I turned so quickly Caroline almost bumped right into me. “I will help Mom at the store, but I will not paint in public.” I was really enjoying painting. Loving it, actually. But it wasn’t time.
Caroline put her hands up. “Fine,” she said.
“That’s my girl,” Grammy said.
Caroline squealed. “I’ve already signed the boys up for Mother’s Morning Out.”
I looked down at my precious little babies on the floor, the babies who had never been cared for by anyone outside of their family—except for a couple of moms on post who, let’s face it, were my family too. How could I possibly leave them?
Then AJ picked up one of my hair ties and flicked it at Taylor. Taylor started crying. I looked at Caroline. “When do I start?”
TWENTY
georgia girl
ansley
It was hard to believe that, only a couple of months earlier, Jack and I had been planning to take his recently renovated boat out on its maiden voyage. Together. I had been hesitant when he came back to Peachtree Bluff. Maybe “hesitant” was putting it mildly. More like terrified. I didn’t know what he wanted, but I did know he was the one person who had the power to ruin everything I had built with my children and devastate my relationships with them forever.
Sure, Caroline and Sloane knew they came from a “sperm donor.” They knew Emerson was a miracle child, the only one who was biologically Carter’s. But they didn’t know their mother nearly died from a rare infection from her first Intrauterine Insemination, and that, from then on out, Carter wouldn’t hear of fertility treatments of any kind. Knowing they came from an anonymous sperm donor is quite different from knowing their father is actually the man who lives beside them, their mother’s first love—or that he got her pregnant the regular way, not via a syringe. That was a lot of things not to know. A few of those things, namely that Jack was their biological father, I really wanted them to know. But in my time, in my way.
That was why, I reminded myself for the millionth time, I could not be with Jack. I had been standing at his front door, holding my sketchbook for ten minutes, trying to gear myself up to go in. Biscuit was getting impatient at my feet, her little tail thumping on the wood of the front porch. She whined up at me. “I know,” I said. “But it’s complicated. You’re a dog. You wouldn’t understand.”
Just then, the door flew open. I screamed, Biscuit barked, and I expected to hear Jack’s gasp, but that wasn’t what I heard at all. Instead, there was a second scream, one of the busty blond variety named after the state in which we currently resided. She was wearing a cocktail dress.
People do not wear cocktail dresses at nine in the morning unless they are, as my girls would say, doing the walk of shame. “Oh, hi, Ansley,” she said, grinning at me like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
My cookie jar.
I was having trouble regulating my breath. I was trying to smile and make my face look normal. Did my face look normal? I looked down at Biscuit, who was looking up at me. She started barking in Georgia’s direction, which is how I knew once and for all that my face did not, in fact, look normal.
Georgia had her clutch in one hand and a wrap in the other. I knew I should say something, but I didn’t know what.
“I had a flat tire,” she said quickly.
“How convenient,” I said under my breath.
“What?”
Her hair was mussed in the back—definitely sex hair.
I could hear Jack’s footsteps coming down the hall, and I turned to leave. I couldn’t possibly face him. Not now. I should have been sad or heartbroken, but really, I was just mad. So, no, we couldn’t be together. I couldn’t have him. But I didn’t want her to have him either. It was a mature reaction.
Unfortunately, as I turned to walk down the porch steps, so did Georgia. “Jack and I went to the most splendid benefit last night. And then we got home, and I had a flat tire. And he was in no position to drive, so . . .”
“We have got to get Uber here,” I said, an edge to my voice.
She laughed delightedly and winked at me. “Oh, I hope we don’t.”
“Ansley?” I heard Jack call from the porch as if there were any question about who I was.
I wanted to pretend that I didn’t hear him. But I couldn’t. I was twenty feet in front of him. I turned and held up my sketchbook. “I’ll come back later,” I said, relieved to see he was at least dressed. “When you’re not so busy.”
“Now is good,” he said. “Come on in.”
“I
