Page 1 of Tastes Like Summer

It’s always been shocking to me how quickly life can change. One minute you’re living a happy life as a teenager in your beautiful, tropical home country of Venezuela; the next, your parents move you the middle of the snow-covered mountains in Colorado, USA. One minute, you’re living a quiet life, married with two kids; the next, your husband’s girlfriend shows up at your doorstep, revealing a multi-year affair. And one second, you have a partner in life, one that provides at least a little support when raising your children; and the next he’s giving up on everything you’ve built together, leaving you to deal with the clusterfuck he left behind.

It’s all such a fun roller coaster, isn’t it?

“Hey.” My sister nudges me in the side. “You’ve been picking at that crab cake for the past ten minutes. Do you not like it?”

“That’s not it, Rosie,” I tell her, taking in her intricate updo, which looks even better thanks to her pastel pink hair.

“What is it, then? I mean, it’s a dumb question considering everything that’s happened—of course you’re not okay. But... Are you, you know… okay? You’ve lost a lot of weight lately.”

It’s a little difficult to have an appetite when your life is imploding and you need to keep it together for your two little girls.

“I’m fine.” Or at least as well as I can be considering I’m a mess right now. “Just thinking, you know?” I shrug nonchalantly. I don’t volunteer where my thoughts have gone because I know it would only be a matter of time before⁠—

“If being at this wedding is too hard⁠—”

There it is.

I lift up a hand to stop her and roll my eyes, because of course she would think that. Of course everyone thinks that newly-divorced Diana is a fragile little butterfly who’s going to break at any second. But I am most definitely not. I have never been that type of girl. In fact, I was the rock for my sisters when we first moved here. The one everyone could depend on. And now I’m regarded as this sort of weakling and it’s just… gross. And far from what I’m used to.

“Rosie, I’m fine,” I insist. “Rodrigo and I were over ages before we even told anyone. Eons before we signed the divorce papers. A wedding isn’t going to bring me down.” And it’s not even a lie. If anything, tonight has been good for me. It’s Memorial Day weekend in the Hamptons, the summer is just beginning, we’re at the beach at nighttime so the stars are visible, and even with my limited appetite, the food has been nothing short of to die for. Honestly? My personal life being a disaster aside, tonight has been fun. I even plan on dancing later.

Maybe.

I don’t know.

Probably not, actually.

“This divorce hasn’t turned me into a jaded person who doesn’t believe in love or can’t be happy when others find their partner. Especially Barbara, who has been nothing but nice to me. I mean, the woman isn’t even my friend—she’s yours—and she’s offered me more kindness than many people closer to me ever have.” Barbara Holt, former child-actress turned movie star—and also one of my sister’s very close friends. “Barbara didn’t need to offer her guest house in the Hamptons to me and the girls. I know she offered it under the guise of me house-sitting while she’s on her summer-long honeymoon, but it’s more than anyone would’ve offered.”

“Did she also help you find a day camp for the girls?”

I nod with a smile. “Yes, thank god. It’ll give me some time alone to study and complete my paralegal certification for my new job.”

“Phew! Good!”

“Exactly. So I would never feel bitter about her finding happiness with someone else or resent her getting married. She’s been incredibly generous to me even when she didn’t have to be.”

“That’s who she is,” Rosie says, looking over her shoulder at her friend as she glides across the dance floor with her new husband, her golden hair flowing behind her.

And this is what I mean about not being angry at love: I know there are couples out there who are meant to be. Barbara and her new husband, Theo. My sister and her boyfriend, Asher. Barbara’s best friend Liza and her husband, Matt. They all look at their partners like they’re heaven on earth. A blessing. A privilege to even be around. But Rodrigo and I, for example? We never looked like that. I mean, for god’s sake, at our wedding, he got so drunk, we found him passed out in the coat closet from “celebrating so hard.” (In retrospect, he was probably mourning what he called his “freedom” during our divorce proceedings.)

“Maybe I felt a little jaded in the beginning,” I admit, thinking back to those first few months after we got separated. “But I was hurt. And hiding all the things that had gone wrong in my seemingly-perfect little life. In reality, the divorce happened because we weren’t right for each other—not because love isn’t real or whatever. It’s been two years since Rodrigo and I separated, so I think I’ve had enough distance and time to realize that.”

“I know, but you only just signed the paperwork last month after the divorce dragged for so long. And with the whole custody thing…” She shakes her head and chews on her bottom lip.

“The whole custody ‘thing.’” I laugh, humorlessly. “What a ride.”

She grimaces, and I can tell she regrets bringing it up. To say that the divorce proceedings between Rodrigo and I were eventful is a massive understatement.

“It’s fine. It… It happens. It’s sad, but it happens.” I shrug once more, because what else am I supposed to say or do? It is what it is.

“He’s a jerk. Rodrigo is a jerk.” To put it mildly.

“Yes, Rosie. But I can’t dwell on that. I need to get my life together.”

With a sympathetic smile, Rosie reaches out to squeeze my hand in both of hers. “It’s going to be okay.”

“I know things will calm down eventually. I just need to make sure Emiliana and Cami don’t feel the stress.”