Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
“Right. Definitely.”
When had I started needing pep talks from my son instead of the other way around? I laughed at the absurdity of it all—my reaction, the reality check from my son, and the fact that I cared at all about the man I’d moved on from when I had the catch of the century right next to me.
“Anyway,” I said. “The beat goes on.”
“Oh-kay. I gotta go, though. You sure you’re good?”
“Yes. Thanks for parenting your mother, Jimmy,” I said with a laugh. “Are you still coming for Christmas?”
“Yeah, definitely. I’ll probably have to visit Dad for a couple days. He is already trying to schedule everything—you know how he gets. But I’ll spend most of my time with you, if that’s okay?”
“Of course! I’d be thrilled.”
“Okay, gotta go. I’ll call tomorrow. Bye.”
“Bye,” I said, but he’d already severed the connection. I sighed and placed the phone on the coffee table before sitting back. Only then did I notice how still Austin was, his demeanor solemn.
Confusion and then alarm bled into me. How must this mild freak-out have looked to him?
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, hugging him from the side and leaning my cheek against his shoulder. “I really don’t care, honestly. I was just blindsided, as I said to Jimmy. I knew Matt would get married again, it was just weird putting a face to the situation. And she’s younger and super pretty and…” I shrugged. “It makes no sense, I know, but—”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he replied, rubbing my arm. “It makes perfect sense. Do you need some time? Should I give you space to sort your feelings out?”
“What? No! Not at all.” I hugged him a little tighter. “I don’t even know why it struck me. Or why seeing her face, all happy like that, would annoy me. There’s no logical reason for it. I wish it would just stop.”
“What has happened?” Mr. Tom pushed his way into the room, his tux a little rumpled from being worn all day. “Has Austin Steele said or done something to affect you, miss?”
“No, it’s nothing, Mr. Tom. My ex is getting re-married—”
“Oh.” Mr. Tom clasped his hands in front of him and tilted his head to the side in sympathy. “I see. You need a postmortem.” He nodded, coming farther into the room. “Well, we have a week or so before we leave for Kingsley’s, and your past lover is not far away. We can fly there tomorrow and pop in on them. It would get us out of having to go to Edgar’s ridiculous flower contest.”
“No, I don’t need a postmortem. It’s nothing, honest.”
But I couldn’t banish the memory of their smiling faces, and the sinking feeling in my gut wouldn’t relent. She wasn’t that much younger, for heaven’s sake! Plus, she was going to age and I wouldn’t. She’d catch up eventually. There was no need for this situation to trigger my insecurity. It was irrational.
“But seriously,” I said, still annoyed, glancing from Mr. Tom to Austin and then back, “since when did he let his significant other post pictures about their life together? He never let me do any of that.”
Was it because he’d been embarrassed of me, the way he’d always implied? I hadn’t come from a high-class family, or gone to private school before college (or even finished college because Matt wanted to start a family), or had nannies and horse-riding lessons. Maybe this new girl was everything he’d wanted me to be.
After another deep breath, I waved it away. “Maybe it’s just me being competitive, I don’t know. He’s all happy and smiling and on social media, and I haven’t said a peep to him about how happy I am.” I leaned into Austin, needing him to know my happiness was, in a large part, because of him. “Or that I’ve moved on to someone way better. I mean…I guess I’d like him to know that just because he initiated the split doesn’t mean I’m hanging on or anything.”
“You should post those things, Miss,” Mr. Tom said. “Let him see how happy you are.”
“I should. And what’s the deal with him taking her out all the time?” I clicked back into the app and flicked through her pictures, not able to help myself, now somewhat spiraling. “He hardly ever took me out. We always had to entertain his mom or his co-workers, and I had to cook and set up and do everything. Theater? Fat chance. He always said he hated the theater. His idea of going out was to have a couple of drinks at the cigar room after work with his buddies while I waited at home alone.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “When Jimmy visited him, he made it sound like it was the same ol’ Matt. Well, my Matt never took smiley pictures with me on nights out.”