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Claudia makes a tsking sound and dismisses my reply with a wave of her hand.
“It’s a simple midlife crisis. All men go through things like this, and as the supportive and loving wives we are, we just have to give them time to get it out of their system. I’m sure my son wouldn’t leave you with nothing, Cynthia. There’s no need to be so dramatic.”
My face heats with embarrassment, but not for myself. For her. That she could be so clueless and blind and . . . pathetic. This would have been my future. If I hadn’t met Ariel and Isabelle and even PJ, this would have been me in twenty years. For the first time since he left, I want to thank Brian for what he did. Not for the way he did it, because that was just plain bullshit, but his leaving was obviously the best thing that ever happened to me.
“Clearly Brian didn’t leave you with nothing,” Claudia sneers, glancing down at my own shopping bags, which are overflowing with clothes and hanging off of my arm—I refused to let PJ carry them even though he put up a good fight. “Or is that our money you’ve been spending all day today without giving it a second thought?”
I open my mouth to let loose a whole shit ton of cursing, not wanting to stoop to her level be damned, but PJ saves me from possibly getting kicked out of the mall, considering we’re standing right by the children’s play area. I don’t think the mothers sitting around watching their little ones frolic would appreciate me teaching their kids fun new words like dick hole, twat face, and Bitchy McBitcherson.
“Actually, it’s my money she’s been spending, because a woman as smart, beautiful, and amazing as Cynthia deserves to be spoiled every single day of her life,” PJ tells her with a smile on his face that doesn’t match the anger I can literally feel coursing through his body as he squeezes my hand tighter. A slight tremor shakes the arm that is brushing up against the side of me. “And if you’d like to further discuss this horseshit claim of Cynthia having any knowledge of where your money went, please feel free to contact the law offices of Clarkson, Bradford, and Schumer, personal friends of mine who represent her now.”
Claudia’s face visibly pales at PJ’s mention of those lawyers, and I don’t blame her. They are widely known in this town as sharks who will chew you up and spit you out, drag you and everyone you know and love through the mud, and do it all with smiles on their faces. In thirty years, they have never lost a case. Not one. They play dirty, and if you have the money to spend, you absolutely want them on your side.
I do not have the money to spend, and I’m sure PJ is bluffing, but I don’t care even a little bit. Seeing Claudia at a loss for words is so satisfying, I want to point and laugh at her discomfort.
PJ gives my hand a gentle tug and moves to walk around Claudia, leaving her standing in front of Ann Taylor with her mouth dropped open. I really wish I could leave it at that and just walk away with my head held high, but that’s not possible.
I pause when we’re a few feet away and look back over my shoulder.
“By the way, your granddaughter, who you haven’t seen or spoken to in over six months, is doing wonderfully. Thank you so much for asking about her well-being,” I speak in a soft, sickeningly sweet voice. “You might want to close your mouth, dear. It’s very unladylike.”
PJ chuckles under his breath as I give Claudia one last smile before I turn away from her and we continue walking through the mall.
“Forget about what I said about Anastasia. You’re the one who scares me. Now I know where she gets it from.”
“Thank you. For what you said back there. You have no idea how much—”
“Stop,” he interrupts. “You don’t have to thank me. I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. You are amazing, and you do deserve to have someone spoil you for a change. So, no more arguing if I decide to spoil you, got it?”
“Only if you tell me what PJ stands for,” I reply.
“I told you, PJ stands for PJ,” he tells me with a heart-stopping smile as we walk into the food court and look for an available table.
Raising a teenager is rough, but getting through this boot camp with my heart still intact is going to be rougher.
“Whatever you say, Pablo Jessabelle.”
Chapter 19: The Naughty Princess Club
“Don’t even think of touching those margaritas.” Ariel smacks Belle’s hand as she reaches for the pitcher sitting on a tray on the floor of my sitting room. “You are a horrible drunk. No tequila for you ever again.”
