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“Sorry I woke you. I’ll let you go. I need to go get my baby, anyway. Bill couldn’t change a diaper if his life depended on it. Oh! Speaking of which. You datin’ anybody?” she asked.
“No. No, I’m not.”
She didn’t need to know about Brodie, and she certainly didn’t need to know about Simon. That story would make her head explode. Green card marriages just didn’t happen where I grew up.
“Good night then,” she sing-songed.
After that disruption to my evening, I couldn’t get back to sleep.
I tossed and turned, tormented by the thought that I might have gotten a life Becca never could have imagined. Granted, I’d made it happen with hard work, and a little selling of my soul—as in the marriage to Simon—but was it fair?
On the other hand, she could actually be perfectly happy with her life. Hell, maybe she felt sorry for me, living up here in the big, bad city with no husband or kids.
Everyone made their trade-offs.
