“Yup! My wife and I come pretty often. We sometimes sub in and teach the yoga class when Maria is out.”
Before I can respond, maybe ask her about her wife or yoga, she’s blurting out another sentence. “Can I ask you a question?” She bounces on the balls of her feet, and I think it’s more so to give her body something to do than in anticipation.
“Sure,” I nod my head.
“Are you a Sagittarius? You’re giving me Sagittarius vibes.”
I almost laugh because she actually reminds me a bit of Blake. She’s a spit-fire spirit. One who likes to talk, but always has something interesting to say, so it never really bothers you. “Uh-yes. I am.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re gonna be best friends, then.” She loops her arm through mine and leads me towards the room with chairs and food. I usually don’t like when people touch me, especially people I don’t know, but I don’t seem to mind Amaya.
Amaya spends the next fifteen minutes introducing me to the other moms. Some are sweet, some are quiet, and some seem more unwelcoming than others. It makes clinging to Amaya easier, because at least I know she thinks we’re meant to be best friends.
I’m inclined to agree with her.
Everything starts to settle down when Blake and Vivienne arrive. Amaya and I part ways as she goes to sit with who I assume is her wife, and I’m nudged between Vivienne and a woman who I think is named Lucy.
Blake stands at the head of the circle and claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Elise, of course, would usually be here. But I’m pretty sure she’s with her dear friend Ana right now spoiling the shit out of my godbaby. So, it’s just me tonight.”
A couple of chuckles break out, and my skin heats when she shoots me a wink. If EliseandAna are both taking Brinley shopping, Wyatt’s house is totally screwed.
I could kiss Blake for not doing the whole “let’s welcome our new friend” bit, because I would actually crawl into the floor and never come out. Rather, she steps back and lets anyone take the floor. Whoever’s ready or in the mood to do so.
And some do. It takes awhile, but they do. They talk. They get feedback. They move on, or they problem solve. It’s quite… well, it’s quite beautiful really. And it’s not sad talk the entire time, sometimes it’s a joke about the hot guy they saw in the diner, or a mention of a book one of them is reading.
“I’m a single mom,” I blurt, and my cheeks heat. But the women around me don’t laugh or lean in closer to each other to whisper. They stare, patiently waiting for me to continue. So, I do. “My- well,ourhouse burned down. Our shop. It’s been a hard few months. Hard few years, really.” I shrug, looking anywhere but at the people around me. “But um– I don’t know. I guess some days are easier than others. Some days… I feel like making it all stop. Some days I want to relive every moment of life because I’m scared I won’t get them back.”
“If that makes sense…” I add, gulping in a breath of air at the silence. It’s quickly filled with rapid words and suggestions, and I feel the weight in my chest lighten.
“That makes perfect sense.” Someone offers.
“Have you heard any news of what caused it?” Amaya’s wife asks. I swear I can see my new friend nudge a sharp elbow into her ribs.
“I know a really great contractor.” A red-headed older woman adds.
“You should come to the yoga session this Saturday! It helped me a lot after my first.” A young blonde quips, shooting me a warm smile.
I glance around, and I’m sure I look as shell-shocked on the outside as I feel on the inside. None of these people look at me like I’m crazy. Like I’m a charity case. Like what I’m going through isn’t as small of a deal as I try to make it be. Blake comes around, resting a hand on my shoulder, but she’s addressing everyone in the room when she says, “Being a human isn’t easy. Being a mom isn’t easy. This is why we’re here. This is why we talk. Because we’re all going through it, but it doesn’t mean we have to go through it alone.”
I let her words sink in, let all of their words sink in. It feels good to talk to people who know what it’s like. Maybe not exactly what it’s like, but… like the same format but in different fonts. We aren’t identical in life by any means, but aren’t we all connected by life? By producing life? Blake gives my shoulder a slight squeeze before going back to walking and talking.
Chapter Twenty
WHITNEY
Itoss a cheese puff in my mouth, and watch as Brinley does the same on my lap. We sit across from a red-headed lawyer named Tessa. Ana and Elise dropped Brinley off shortly after the mom group ended. Amaya and I have exchanged phone numbers with a plan to grab brunch. Blake ran down to see Wesley, and Vivienne was off to the clinic. That left us, Tessa, and Brinley’s five massive bags stuffed full of clothes and toys.
Tessa is stunning. And she sure as shit did not come to play. I owe Vivienne the largest box of pizza the world can make after this, or a first-class ticket to SeaWorld for those turtles she always talks about. My confidence skyrocketed during the time we went over all the paperwork, talked about strategies and possible angles. She knows what she’s doing, and it’s obvious she fights for her clients like she’s personally invested.
“I did some digging.” Tessa says, flipping through a manilla folder. “It turns out Andrew hired a private investigator. He’s been following you around for quite some time.”
My face burns as her words hit me. The invasion of privacy wrapping around my skin like a bad sunburn. The invasion of Brinley’sprivacy. The balls on this man to do something so lowwhenhewas the one who wanted nothing to do with us. I realize, then, that the next time I see Andrew, I willkillhim.
“Bad news or good, first?” she asks me, leaning forward on the table with her elbows.
“Bad.” I reply. She nods, tilting her head at the stack of papers between us. “The bad part is that your dirtiest and darkest secrets could very well come to light.”
“And the good part?” I ask, resolve crumbling. It’s not like I’m an undercover criminal, but I’m sure photos with little context can make nothing look like something.
