AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Istudied my reflection in the full-length mirror of my temporary apartment bedroom and sighed heavily. As I took in my stressed out, tired face in the mirror, I felt years older than twenty-nine. Why had I agreed to go to this fancy cocktail party tonight?
The short answer was because my friends had invited me, and I couldn’t possibly say no. After all, they’d rallied to move my son and me up to Connecticut when we’d suddenly needed to leave Charlotte. I didn’t want them to see me unhappy or think I was ungrateful for their support.
But dressing up had never been my thing. I was more of a Keds and jeans kind of girl. As if to drive the point home, when I stepped into the only somewhat fancy dress I owned, it was tight around my midsection. Unfortunately, it was becoming difficult to rationalize the extra pounds stemming from pregnancy now that my son was over two years old.
One more thing to add to my Juliette 2.0 plan. Lose these last ten stubborn-as-hell pounds. Oh, and stop cursing so much. But did internal cursing really count toward having to put money into the swear jar? Hm. Determination to be made later.
After slipping the garment off, I shimmied into some Spanx, tugged them up, and hoped this would suck in my stomach and make my hips appear slimmer. When I put the black dress on again, I was pleased that my zipper strained a little less. Shapewear. Seriously, the best invention ever. Well, maybe a close second to my seat warmers. Because who didn’t love a warm ass while driving?
Next, I contemplated whether to wear my shoulder-length, blonde-in-desperate-need-of-a-root-touch-up hair up or down. But why bother the contemplation? It would go up in a ponytail like it always did these days. Lastly, I put on some concealer along with some mascara. As I inspected the result, I had to fight the self-doubt creeping up.
Who was I kidding by attending a party while my life was in shambles? It would be better to skip tonight rather than fake my way through. I was just about to take the dress off and bag on going when I heard a knock on the bedroom door.
My mother’s smiling face poked in. She’d made the drive with me from Charlotte, North Carolina, home for us, and had helped me get settled over the last couple days. She was essentially an older version of me with her tiny frame and big brown eyes. “Don’t you look pretty.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ve changed my mind. I should stay here and spend time with you and Tristan, especially since you’re leaving tomorrow.”
She wasn’t having it, using her infamous mom-guilt voice. “No, you’re not, Juliette Marie. The party is literally two flights of steps up, and I’m not letting you back out of it. You’re a wonderful mother, honey, but it’s not all you are. You deserve a night out with your friends, especially today of all days.”
Ah, yes. Ten years ago on this date, at the age of nineteen and while full of hope and a heavy dose of naïveté, I’d said I do. And now I was celebrating my wedding anniversary seven hundred miles away from the man with whom I’d pledged to spend the rest of my life.
Yeah, happy anniversary, asshole.
I tried unsuccessfully to bite down on my resentment. Both my two-year-old son and I had been forced to pack up and leave town a few days ago because an investigation had revealed my couldn’t-be-my-ex-soon-enough husband was a dirty cop. I’d been told he was about to be arrested for a litany of crimes. Thankfully, I had filed for divorce months ago and had full custody. At least for now.
My son. Tristan. He was the light of my life. And fortunately, he was completely oblivious to both his father’s indifference to him and criminal behavior.
Ugh. I needed to stop focusing on Rob otherwise it would put me in a bad mood. It wasn’t an easy task considering I held onto a lot of anger. I was especially furious that he’d put his son in potential danger. But I forced myself to tamp it down. Keep it all internalized. Over the last few months, I’d perfected the art of putting on a brave front despite going through personal hell. What were a few more months?
My mom hugged me tightly and I knew she got it. After my father left us when I was six, she’d raised both me and my sister by herself. She’d remarried once we were older, but I remember her devoting every hour outside of her job to her girls. I only hoped I could be half the parent she had always been.
“Maybe you’re right. I should go and forget for a little while.”
We both heard the knock on the front door, and my mother smiled. “I’m sure that’s one of your friends ensuring you don’t back out, too. I’ll get it.”
Haylee’s voice and a tap on the door sounded a minute later. “Hey, Juliette, can I come in?”
Haylee was twenty-four, a new mom, a law school student, and quickly becoming one of my best friends. It was due to her generosity that I was living in this apartment building. She was as nice as she was beautiful. Although she’d married the multimillionaire owner of the company I worked for, it hadn’t changed her one bit. She was still as down-to-earth and sweet as she’d always been.
“Sure,” I responded and watched her walk into my bedroom, already dressed for the party.
She was wearing a stunning, most likely vintage, print dress with vibrant purples and greens. She looked like a cover model, which incidentally she’d once been for Cosmo Life magazine.
I didn’t have a jealous bone in my body, but the effortless way she was put together hardly quelled my insecurity over my too-tight dress and hair in a ponytail.
“Ooh, I love your dress. You look gorgeous,” Haylee complimented.
I shrugged it off. “Thanks. But you’re the one who looks amazing.” And she did, with her long brown hair left soft and down and her stunning wrap dress setting off her curves. “And don’t think I’m swinging this way, but your boobs are, like, incredible.”
She laughed. “One of the benefits of nursing the baby would be my added cup size. Great to look at but not as nice to touch, unfortunately. Matter of fact, the next order of business before I go up to the party is to pump.”
I didn’t share that mine had never returned to their original shape and size after a year of nursing, opting to exercise a rare filter on my speech and hope she wasn’t as unlucky with her post-nursing body. “Do you want something to drink? I have milk, Diet Coke or water.”
“No, thanks. I just wanted to make sure you still intended to come tonight.”
My phone buzzed in that moment, and I held up the text message from our mutual friend, Sasha.
