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“I have to go.” I hung up the phone feeling listless and like all the life had been sucked out of me. Cecile called not long after and berated me for doing things this way. When I didn’t rise to the bait, she went low and called me barren and not worthy of her son. I just hung up the phone and crawled into bed to cry.
My family rallied around me once the news broke, and Mom and Dad were there every step of the way for the divorce procedure. Luckily, we didn’t have to go to court since everything was handled between the lawyers and mediators at my request.
I didn’t want to see Dan, didn’t want to be in the same room as him or have to talk to him ever again. I’d already blocked him everywhere and had told our friends what was going on. Most of them were outraged and promised to cut him out of their lives, but I knew that wasn’t going to help, and he was going to need all the help he could get with his child.
So, I asked them not to do that on my account. I think I knew deep down that I wasn’t planning to stick around, so it wouldn’t have made much of a difference to me anyway.
AMANDA
The divorce took some time because Dan wanted to fight for us, or at least that’s what my lawyer said, but once I made it clear that there was no way in hell that was going to happen, I guess his lawyers talked some sense into him, and he signed the papers.
The house was sold for way more than we’d paid for it, thanks to the market, and as soon as the check cleared, I put in an order to work from home and was granted with the provision that I show my face at least once every quarter for meetings which was fine because I wasn’t planning on going too far, just far enough that no one knew me.
I’d found a cute little town about an hour away that was just far enough for me to be comfortable and still be able to see my family on the weekends. I hadn’t heard from Dan since our last phone call and went out of my way to avoid him and everyone he knew.
If he showed up at my job, they knew not to divulge any information. I went through the hassle of changing my name back and updating my credit report, as well as locking down anything that my ex might have access to.
I had a nice lump sum in my account along with my savings, so all I lost was my husband. I found an apartment in a nice building with a doorman for a little added security, and my Dad and brothers helped me move in the week after the divorce was final. All told, it took about three months for everything to be finalized. Much shorter than I expected. It only took three months to dismantle a lifetime together.
Then again, no, that only took the few minutes it took for him to cheat. Our marriage was dead the second that happened. I was just too stupid or too naïve to see it.
* * *
It’s beena year since I made the move, and nothing much has changed. I get up every morning as usual fire up my laptop, and get to work. I log out at a decent hour and walk around my apartment, moving things around.
I’d started eating again, but barely. Still toast and cereal and sometimes fruit when I remember to order some through Instacart. Isn’t life grand? I don’t ever have to leave my house again unless I want to.
It was the one-year anniversary of the divorce when things took a turn. That night, I ordered four bottles of wine, put three in the fridge and one on ice. Then I went to the second bedroom, which I had turned into my office, and grabbed the biggest legal notepad I could find and a whole box of pens. I still enjoy writing longhand for some reason since I do a lot of jotting down for my job.
About three glasses in, I started writing and didn’t stop until my fingers and wrist hurt. I looked bleary-eyed at the three empty bottles in front of me and wondered what the heck just happened. There was no time for that; I felt like listening to music; it had been a while.
Before I knew it, I had the radio on and was in the kitchen knee-deep in something I hadn’t done in a very long time: baking. Baking is my passion. If I hadn’t gone into finance, my dream was to open a bakery. I’ve never had formal training, but my paternal grandmother taught me everything there is to know about baking and cooking.
Every weekend we spent at her house, she’d have me in the kitchen with her, talking me through what she was doing. I was so good that by the age of twelve, I could bake anything without having to measure. I got into the habit of testing different flavors, especially with cookies. I make a key lime pie cookie that is to die for.
Anyway, by the time I was sixteen, I was the baker for every event in the family, whether it be a wedding, birthday, holiday, you name it; if there was cake involved, I was the go-to girl, and that went for my ex-in-laws as well. It got, so I had to come up with a chart to keep track.
Because there were so many people, a lot of the birthdays overlapped, and that’s how I started baking base cakes ahead of time and freezing them, then pulling them out around the time of the birthday to ice and decorate.
I learned the shelf life for the different batters, and so I was never too put out by being everybody’s baker. It’s because I’d become so good at it that I’d contemplated opening a bakery. But alas, real life needs money while dreams don’t, so financing it is.
But as I stirred batter not only for cakes but cupcakes and then cookies, I questioned why is that. Why is it that in order to live in this world, you have to give up your dreams? It doesn’t make sense; it’s as if something or someone doesn’t want us to be happy.
The more I baked and danced and sang the more like my old self I felt. I’m sure the wine had a lot to do with that as well. But it was a welcome change from what had become my norm.
* * *
DEIDRE
* * *
“Oh, Dan, right there.”I sat on his thick cock as he pumped up into me for all he was worth.
“Slut, bitch, I hate you.” He smacked me hard across the face with each word, and I just grinned and fucked him harder as my pussy juiced.
I knew what day it was that only made this so much hotter. It was a year since the bitch was gone completely from our lives. I knew he would be in his feels again, so I prepared ahead of time. This isn’t the first time I’ve been in his bed since we got rid of her; in fact, I’ve been in his bed almost every night since then, had moved in, in fact.
Things weren’t supposed to get this far. I never intended to become this involved with him, but then I came up pregnant, and there was nothing else to do. Dan isn’t the first married man I’d snagged, but they were usually just distractions until the next one came along. It was the excitement of doing something forbidden that kept me going back time and time again.
