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I sprinted from the gazebo, my feet slipping against the melting ice.
It was her. I would know her anywhere.
I reached the corner of Main, and saw that same head, walking next to a tall man. They were bundled up, and she gripped his arm as they walked.
If her happiness was because of someone else, I could accept defeat. However, in that moment, my heart broke again.
I crossed the street so I could walk parallel to catch a glimpse of her face. When I saw the profile and notice the small nose, the cheeks and pink lips I kissed, I knew.
She was covered in a puffy black jacket, sticking out in its thickness. She was laughing and walking with a good-looking man—tall and wearing a gray knit cap. His expression was serious as they walked, as their breath comingled with each other. She looked happy.
I stopped and let them walk away.
She found someone else, and she was happy.
There was my answer.
The last piece of my broken heart shattered.
I pulled my cell phone out and dialed my mother’s number. “Sorry, Mom, I’ll be late tonight. I’m sorry I’ll miss your pot roast.”
12
Emily
“Mom, why are you dressed like that?” Olive asks, giving me a look up and down like a conservative father. I pulled out a low-cut black dress I wore when I went to Vegas when Olive was two.
“Like what?” I ask. No time like the present to start gaslighting my daughter and give her another topic for therapy. The dress wasn’t Vegas-flashy, but it does show off what little cleavage I have and hides the weight around my middle Olive gave me as a parting gift.
“Your boobies are out.”
“Yeah, so?” I try to stuff myself into the strapless bra, but it just makes them look bigger. That’s not a bad thing.
The way Tara described Max’s perfect girlfriend, I need all the help I can get, even if I’m deeply uncomfortable with it.
The doorbell rings, and Olive sprints to the door. Olive’s smile evaporates when she opens it to Burke, holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers.
“It’s only Burke,” Olive says to me without greeting him. Burke still smiles, looking inside like there might be a camera crew.
“Hi, baby,” he says, walking in. “You look so great.”
Olive scream-sighs behind me.
“Thanks, baby,” I say, walking toward him and kiss him. He grips me tighter, pulling me to him. My daughter makes a gagging sound.
“They’re not here yet?”
“Not yet. They’re still at the tiny house, so any moment.”
“Ah,” he says. “Let’s open this wine. We’ll need it.”
“I one-hundred-percent agree.” I already dove into my emergency stash of anti-anxiety meds that I keep on hand for situations just like this. It’s nice not to be overwhelmed and be somewhat calm.
Burke hands me a glass of wine as the doorbell rings.
Olive runs toward it and rips the door open. “Max!” she screams, launching herself at his mid-section.
Burke grumbles next to me. Olive has never tackle-hugged him.
