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Tucking my hair behind my ears, I lean over and smile at her. “Hey, how are you? Your mom and I used to go to school together. Is that lollipop? May I have it?”
She cracks a shy smile and shakes her head a bit, then says apologetically, “I don’t have extras.”
A twinge of nostalgia runs through me. This is exactly what I wanted with Logan. A beautiful child, just like this. And so well-mannered, too.
“Oh, that’s okay,” I say as I straighten up. “We can always get that sometimes, right?”
Danielle looks up at her mother, who gives a discreet nods that she mirrors back to me. “Sure.”
“Sweetie,” Nora asks, “could you go get pancake mix? You know where that is? The other aisle, right after this one.”
“Okay, Mommy.” She nods and totters off.
I smile as I watch her go. I look up at Nora. “So how have you been? I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Oh, yes, my husband and I took a trip to Melbourne; we stayed there for about a year. We actually just returned a couple of weeks ago.”
“And with another bundle, from the looks of it.”
Nora glances down at her protruding belly and grins at me. “Oh, yeah. It’s just one of those things.”
“I’m happy for you, really. I mean, you look amazing. Really amazing.”
“Thank you. Oh, we should catch a drink later this week, that is, if you’re not busy. I hear you’ve got a pastry business all set up at Randy Avenue.”
“Yup, I do.”
“That’s so wonderful. John and I would love to come around.” She smiles. “And Danielle, too. I mean, she’s at that age where the teeth is craving for sweet things.”
I wave my hands and dip my head in a flourish bow. “I’ll be more than happy to indulge.”
When Danielle returns, Nora and I exchange numbers and say our goodbyes, with her promising to text me. I watch them leave, a sinking feeling spreading over my chest. I was right when I told her she looked happy; she indeed does look happy. She looks like the kind of woman who exactly has life figured out. A mother and a wife - something I can never be, at least not too soon.
I swallow back my envy and let out a breath. This is the kind of thing I wanted with Logan. All this and a whole lot more. Being his wife wasn’t enough. I wanted to have his babies, too. I wanted to grow old with him. I wanted everything with him, the good, the bad, the ugly. I guess that was too much to ask for, because the only thing I got out of it was the ugly. And a lot of it.
But I understand that no two human beings in this world would have the same life experiences. It can't happen, it’s never exactly the same. We all have our own paths and our own stories, along with experiences that are just made for us, that only suit us, and that help us grow. My growth and resiliency are not at all similar to Nora's. They are uniquely mine, and I have to walk my path. I shake off the thoughts and look up.
Life is a cruel joke sometimes…
Sighing, I push the cart forward, keeping my eyes open for additional condiments I need. My eyes settle on the boxes of pancakes lining the top shelf of aisle three. I chew the insides of my left cheek. Hmm, pancakes for dinner doesn’t sound so bad. I can always flip a few, open a bottle of wine, and settle back on my favorite reruns of Friends. The usual stuff.
Heaving a breath, I turn away. Gosh, I badly need a social life. How long am I going to continue bingeing sad, boring romcoms on my couch? It’s hardly the life to live. I need a bit of action in my life, something to spice up my dreary existence. Dreary…that’s exactly the right word to describe my life right now. I need something to distract me. The PR event is still days away. I need something, or someone like—
Ian. A tingle runs through my spine as I recall the incident at the art museum two days ago. We both pulled away as the door opened, just in time to not get caught. A security guard came in retrieve a set of keys. Luckily, he didn’t notice anything amiss. Mortified beyond words, Ian and I could only exchange awkward chuckles, as we made our way out. Throughout the duration of the exhibition, we avoided each other. My brother, thankfully, was too preoccupied showing off his work to notice.
Ian and I haven’t spoken since then. Or more like, I’ve been avoiding him. I’m about to wheel my groceries to checkout when a familiar face appears before me.
Oh, no.
Rachel, wearing a black maxi and a pair of flip-flops, saunters up to me, her usual contemptuous smile in place.
“Oh, hi, Kaylee! Fancy running into you here.”
My eyes narrows and I smile tightly. “I’d say the same, Rachel, but I’m not known to be a liar.”
Rachel’s smile evaporates. With a light toss of her hair, she says, “I see you’re still a fan of Granny Smith. I never did like her. Her jam is way too caustic on the tongue.”
“Hmm.” Still maintaining my smile, I fold my arms across my chest. “You realized this before or after you stole my recipe?”
