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“Georgia is a business tycoon,” Simone informs the group. “She started out as an esthetician while she put herself through college, graduated in business, got an MBA, and eventually opened up her own med spa with her business partner, Doctor Something-or-Other.” She waves her phone for emphasis, the screen still on my Wikipedia page. “The brand grew until she had over a hundred locations all over SoCal. She’s basically the Steve Jobs of facials. She also started a scholarship fund for women in business.”
Wide eyes turn to stare at me from every corner of the room.
I grimace. “Technically, I started my own business before I got the MBA, but yes. That’s my adult life in a few sentences.”
“Girl,” Trina says. “How did we not know this?” She turns to Simone, Fiona, Candice, then Jen. “Howdid we not know this?”
I shrug. “Sometimes it feels like another woman did all that. Now I look at myself, and I’m not sure what happened to her.”
My words come out steady, neutral, but I can tell they have a profound impact on the group. Silence settles over the room, and familiar thoughts start circling in my mind.
I made mistakes—lots of them. I trusted when I shouldn’t have, hesitated when I should have slammed my foot on the gas, and took risks I had no business taking. I worked and worked and worked, and what do I have to show for it other than this big, empty house? What was the point of it all? If I hadn’t been so focused on my career, would my marriage have survived? Was I—am I—selfish?
“My entire identity was being my ex-husband’s wife,” Fiona says, breaking the heavy quiet in the room. She meets my gaze and gives me a sad smile. “I poured so much effort into my marriage, into a man that didn’t deserve it. When we got divorced, I was completely lost. I think it’s normal to feel that way after big life changes.”
“‘Big life changes’ is a really kind interpretation of my last few years,” I say, sounding as depressed as I feel. “It’s like I lost all the fire and determination that used to keep me going.”
“Can we back up?” Jen says, frowning. Her blond hair is pulled back in a severe bun. She’s wearing a soft-looking white tee and loose jeans, one leg tucked under the opposite knee as she sits on an armchair near the window. “So, you were high school sweethearts with Sebastian, broke up and moved to SoCal, became incredibly successful, married, got divorced, and now you’re here, and Sebastian’s here, and he kissed you, then showed up here and basically demanded that he be allowed to kiss you again, and you sent him packing from your front step with just a few words?”
Heads that had been turned to Jen during her speech rotate until they’re facing me.
I nod. “Yeah. Pretty much.”
Jen’s frown deepens. “But you think youdon’thave fire and determination?”
Simone purses her lips, intrigued. “She has a point.”
I huff, shrugging.
“What’s your plan now?” Trina tops up my wine, her long hair falling over her shoulder as she leans over to put the bottle back on a side table. “Are you going to open up a spa in Heart’s Cove?”
I physically recoil from the question. “Nope.”
“Why not?” Simone demands. “I want to be rubbed and plucked and pampered to within an inch of my life, and I want to pay you for the privilege. I want my face pumped so full of Botox I look shiny and tight and permanently surprised.”
“You could make a fortune,” Candice says, and hums of agreement come from every throat.
I drain my glass and fill it up again, staring at the ruby liquid. “Speaking honestly, ladies,” I start, lifting my gaze to meet each of theirs in turn, sweeping my hand around the room, pointing at the now-darkened view outside, “I already have more money than I know what to do with. I don’t need to do it all over again.” I shrug. “I’m…really rich.”
As soon as the words slip from my lips, I clamp them shut.Did I just say that?Did I really just brag about how wealthy I am? How utterly gauche and embarrassing. What was I thinking? I must be drunk. Or my brain fell out when Sebastian pounded on my door. Or I’m just an arrogant cow who doesn’t know how to make friends.
But instead of an avalanche of disdain, judgment, and raised eyebrows—which is what I would have expected from my previous acquaintances and so-called friends—I hear a loudwhoop.
Simone slaps her thigh. “Hell yes, you are!”
Trina throws her head back and cackles, while Jen’s face splits into a smile for the first time all evening. Fiona sinks deeper into the sofa and kicks her feet up on the coffee table, lifting her glass in my direction.
Candice, sitting next to me on the couch, lets out a low noise and shakes her head. “How refreshing is it to hear that from a woman?” She leans forward to grab her wine glass, then turns, her gaze landing on me. “I wish more of us owned our success the way you just did.”
“It’s freaking awesome, is what it is,” Simone says, grabbing a plain cracker and tossing it in her mouth. She points her chin at Candice. “She’s rich, too, but to be fair, she’s married to Blake Harding.”
I start, whipping my head around to stare at the woman next to me. “The movie star?”
Candice blushes. “You’ll meet him when he gets back from Europe. He’s shooting a movie until mid-September.”
Within seconds, my phone is in my hand and I’m typingBlake Harding wifeinto my search engine, then only waiting a fraction of a second for thousands of pictures of Candice in designer clothes to pop up. “Um, excuse me,” I say, “what?”
Candice laughs, shrugging. “I know.”
