Her reply comes right away. It’s a picture of Lauren sitting on her couch, laughing. There’s not a stich of makeup on her face. She’s wearing a pair of black yoga pants and a tight tank top, and she’s holding a glass of wine. Her hair is piled on top of her head. I’ve only ever seen her dressed professionally, and she always looked hot, but she looks comfortable and effortlessly pretty now. That isn’t what really gets my attention, though. No, it’s Barbara, who is sitting right there next to Lauren, a glass of wine in her hand, and they are both laughing.
I reply with one word.
Traitor.
I send Noah a text.
Tomorrow night. You, me, drinks, women, good times.
He answers right away.
It’s on like Donkey Kong.
Fuck me. She’s left her mark all over my life and on everyone in it.
Chapter 17
Lauren
It’s been four days since I’ve spoken to Austin. Four very long, very boring days. I called Penelope and begged her to find me something, anything. So far, she has nothing.
I’ve rearranged furniture and reorganized closets and cabinets. I’ve done a big deep cleaning of all the bathrooms. I’ve gone through the kids’ toys, closets, and drawers. I’ve stripped the beds and washed all the bedding. I forced myself to stop when I found myself eyeing up the windows.
Tonight, the kids left to go to Jake’s until Monday night. Leaving Kaleigh and me to entertain ourselves. I had great plans to Netflix and chill, but she came in with Barbara, of all people, following right behind her after the kids left. Barbara came bearing gifts, and by gifts I mean wine, so I wasn’t about to tell her to leave. That would be rude, plus, I like Barbara and I missed her.
We laughed over wine about everything and nothing at all. Neither of us bringing up Austin, which made me happy and sad all at the same time.
It was when she was getting up to leave that Kaleigh left us alone to talk.
“You have to know that we all miss you,” she says, emphasizing the ‘all’ as she reaches for the empty pizza box in the center of the table.
I shake my head a bit sadly, hoping I don’t start tearing up again.
“We do. He does especially.” The way she refers to him makes my heart beat just a tad faster. Makes it hurt, too.
“He humiliated me,” I tell her, taking the box out of her hands so she can see me. “And he didn’t even know it. My husband had an affair with our son’s teacher.” I drop the box back on the table.
“He would never—” she starts, but I hold up my hand.
“I know he wouldn’t, and I understand that he didn’t know, but what he said hit close to home. Very, very close to home.”
“He’s miserable. I replaced you with Carmen.” She laughs a bit evilly. “She barely knows how to email at all, so forget it if there’s an attachment. And let’s just say that she and Excel are a big, fat no-go.”
“Good. He deserves it. Asshat,” I grumble as I sit down. “I know you have your loyalties, I understand that.” I grab a Kleenex from the side table and dab at my eyes. “I will never, ever put you in the middle. I like you, and I’d like to continue our friendship.”
“Please come back,” she pleads. “I’m begging. I’ll give you whatever you want, just name it.”
“I don’t know,” I say, but I’m thinking about it. Who am I kidding, I’m so, so, so, close to saying yes.
“Just think about it. Go out tomorrow night with your sister. Get dressed up. Drink, flirt with hot guys, have fun. Then call me on Sunday, and we’ll talk,” she says as I walk her to the door. “Flirt a little for me, too.” She winks at me, gives me a quick squeeze, and walks out the door.
“So, are you going to go back?” Kaleigh asks from the stairs where she is sitting.
“I don’t know.”
“I think you should. Don’t let him chase you away from a job you genuinely liked.” She gets up and makes her way down the rest of the stairs. “Now, let’s discuss outfits. Are we doing slutty maids or slutty school girls?”
I look at her like the crazy person she is and ask, “Why do we have to do slutty anything?”
“Because sluts have more fun.” She shrugs. “Or so I’ve been told.”
I stare at her and wonder, not for the first time, how the hell I’m related to this woman.
The next day, we spend the afternoon lounging in the backyard. At three, I go up to my room to take a nap, because let’s be honest here, I’m a single mom of two who thinks that eleven p.m. is a late night.
My nap lasts a solid two hours, and when I wake up, I’m almost tempted to cancel this debacle that Kaleigh is planning. I’m about to tell her that we should just stay home when the door flies open and she comes through it, telling me, “Don’t even fucking think about it. Get your dusty vagina in that shower. You will exfoliate and shave—everywhere.”
“Jesus, Kal, it’s not dusty.” I storm into my bathroom and slam the door. I lean back against it, thinking to myself that she might be right. It’s probably a little bit dusty.
I walk over to the sink and look at myself in the mirror. I’m hot, I’m young, and I’m single. Tonight, I’m going to go out, drink some cocktails, flirt with men, and maybe, just maybe, have sex. Hot, no-name sex. Okay, well, maybe not sex, sex. Maybe just some kissing and I’ll give him my number. And if he’s really hot, maybe my real number. Definitely not my real name, because you know, he could be a stalker. Oh, for Christ’s sakes, I’ll most likely just have some drinks and come home drunk.
I wash and dry my hair, setting it
