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Even Sky can’t get enough. After Layla feeds him his first bite, he becomes impatient with waiting for his mama to serve him another piece. The adorable toddler leans across the table and helps himself to a pawful of pasta salad, straight from the serving dish.
At the outpouring of praise, Karli beams with pride. Nolan’s younger sister has recently launched Karli’s Kitchen, a meal subscription business serving Starlight Falls and the surrounding areas. Her recipes are unique and delicious, and so far, the endeavor seems to be a smashing success.
“I don’t know how you have the time to run an operation like this,” I say between bites. “Especially now that you’re back in school.”
“I do a whole lot of delegation,” Karli admits. “And I have a great little team. Plus, Mason is there, encouraging me every step of the way. And I really have to thank Darius. His financial investment made all this possible for me. Or else my dream of sharing my recipes with the world would just be a bunch of doodles in my diary.”
The Brightons are such a supportive family. It warms my heart to hear about all the ways they help each other. As I listen to Karli, I get lost in my head, wishing I had a group of good people backing me up, too.
I’m reaching for a second slice of flatbread when Nicky stumbles into the room. She’s bumping into furniture as she stares at the phone in her hand.
“Where have you been, bitch—?” Karli halts and looks at Stella. “B…beach buddy! Nicky’s my beach buddy,” Karli says to her niece.
The little girl doesn’t look convinced, her wispy blond eyebrows arched to the ceiling.
“Ugh. Just got back from visiting my grandma. Traffic from Honey Hill was a nightmare,” she apologizes, bringing her attention into the room. Quick hugs are exchanged and Nicky slides into the seat next to me.
“You whores didn’t even wait for me,” she pouts, looking over the half-eaten feast on the table.
Stella looks at me and whispers. “What’s a whor—?”
“Horse,” I say, jumping in quickly. “Nicky called us a horse. That’s not too nice, is it Nicky?” I bury my snickers behind a forkful of salad.
The little girl shoots a scolding stare across the table. “Aunt Nicky! It’s not nice to call your friends names.”
“Sorry, Stella,” Nicky apologizes with a cringe. “I promise not to call my friends names from now on.”
Daphne laughs as she passes the serving dish to Nicky. “We were starving, hun. We may have taken a bite or two while we were waiting.”
“A bite or two? Really?” Nicky says disbelievingly. Then she turns to me, stretching her phone my way. “Girl, have you seen this? A clip from your interview is going viral. It sparked an entire dialogue online.”
I swallow. Oh god.
I’ve reached my wits end with all the unwanted publicity. I imagine that the self-appointed morality police are dragging me over the metaphorical coals of the internet after that interview. Will I ever just go back to my quiet, anonymous small town life?
“I’ve been avoiding social media as much as possible these days,” I admit.
I’m not particularly in the mood to get my feelings hurt at this point in time. So, I promised myself that I wouldn’t read the blogs. That I would just continue living my life and wait for the hype around me to die down.
But from the way Nicky is smiling, I get a feeling that what the masses are saying about me might not be so bad this time.
Hesitantly, I accept her phone.
On the screen, some lady with big curlers and a bathrobe is vlogging as she applies her makeup in her bathroom mirror. “I think this interview really puts a spotlight on people pleasing and how detrimental it can be for women. My god—imagine how miserable that poor Inez-girl’s life might have turned out if she’d married Vance just because everyone expected her to. We, women need to stop doing that shit to ourselves.”
The video switches to another clip. A young woman is in a cubicle, packing her belongings into a box with a caption across the screen that reads, I quit my dead-end job today.
“This whole Vance and Inez thing has showed me that sometimes, we just have to give ourselves permission to walk away. At the first possible inkling that a situation doesn’t serve us,” she says. “We have to stop worrying that we’ll be called selfish or inconsiderate. Because sometimes, the longer we wait, the deeper we dig our own graves.”
The girls gather around my chair and we all stare down at the screen. There is clip after clip of people sharing their experiences and their opinions. For the most part, the commentators seem to empathize with the difficult decision I had to make.
By the time we’re done watching the video and scrolling through some of the dozens of comments below, Layla is ugly-crying and Daphne has an arm around my shoulder. Nicky and Karli are telling me how much they admire my strength.
I finally feel heard and understood. I feel a sense of community. Like maybe I’m not crazy for making the choice I made. Maybe I was actually brave.
When dinner is over, I’m smiling as I strap Stella into the backseat of our fancy new SUV and I drive across town. I’m contemplating how different my life has become over the past few weeks. All for the better. I feel like a more authentic version of myself. Like I’m finally breathing instead of holding my breath.
We get back to the house and I’m excited by the sight of Nolan’s car in the yard. He’s parked off to the side, leaving space for me.
