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“Maybe I’ll be next on the town’s agenda,” I say. “If word gets out about Nick sleeping on the couch.”
“You’ve only told me,” Rachel says. “And I don’t talk shit about my best bitch.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know who he’s told,” I say.
The thought makes my stomach turn and I can only imagine what the town would do with that information. God knows. Probably accuse him or me of cheating. Some may even go as far as saying it was abuse.
Hard to tell. People always say not to worry about what others think. But that’s easier said than done when you see everyone at the local grocery store.
I brush off the freight train of anxiety-causing thoughts. “Anyway, I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Take your time,” Rachel says, scooping Spencer up in her arms. “We have tons of toys to play with. And I have Scooby on the TV.”
“This is why you’re Auntie Rach.”
She walks to me, wrapping an arm around me and squeezing. I hug her and Spencer, and watch as she walks into her living room with him talking nonsense in her best Scooby voice.
I smile and walk out the door, ready for my thirty minutes of freedom.
Once I’m in the car, I instinctively check my rearview to make sure Spencer is buckled in.
Then, I face palm, realizing Ijustdropped him off with Rachel.
I guess that’s a sign I truly need a break. Maybe this will be what I need to make amends with Nick. Have a level head so I can be rational when we talk. Make some headway and resolve some things instead of screaming at each other and pouring salt in the open wounds.
Realizing, again, that I’m in my car alone; I reach for the radio and crank the volume all the way up, wincing when the booming music abuses my ear drums. I turn it back down.
“Maybe slow at first. I’ll work up to that level.”
Rachel peaks through her blinds at me and I give her a thumbs up, laughing at myself before backing out of her driveway and heading toward the store.
As I’m singing and bopping and letting my stress melt away, I see the local coffee shop and notice the drive thru line isn’t long.
“I mean, Rachel did say I needed it,” I mutter, convincing myself it’s okay to grab a treat.
After fifteen minutes of dancing in the drive thru line, my free hand is now holding a caramel-mocha iced coffee with skim milk. I’m sipping at it, letting my shoulders groove to the music.
When my car is parked in the store lot, I check my phone to see if there’s anything from Nick.
No new messages. No missed calls.
“Dick,” I hiss at the screen. Part of me was starting to feel bad for the way last night had gone. But now that I know he hasn’t even tried to reach out to me, he can piss off.
I leave my phone on the seat and walk through the front doors.
Maureen is leaning against the customer service counter and waves me over. She’s talking to Amy and they’re both standing in their matching uniforms; tan pants and navy blue shirts.
“Are you working tonight?” Maureen asks me. Her squeaky voice soars right through me.
I shake my head, feeling the buzz of the caffeine from the extra espresso shot in my coffee. “Night off. I’m in tomorrow though.” I look at Amy. “Unless you need me to work. I’m sure I can find a sitter for the kids or have Nick come home early.”
It’s Amy’s turn to shake her head. “Not necessary. Maureen just got herself a hot date and was hoping to sneak out a little early.”
“I can make him wait,” Maureen says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Being fashionably late is what you’re supposed to do.”
“Except when it comes to your job,” Amy adds, raising a brow.
“I’m always on time,” I say, holding up my hands in defense. “And I’d be happy to take another day or two throughout the week.”
