Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
The door to the classroom swung open behind me, but I paid no attention to it. I picked Maya up, prying the tiny orange crayon from her left nostril. She pouted, clearly unhappy that I’d interfered with her little experiment. I gave her a wink and put her down next to Ms. Garcia so she’d be supervised, then gave her head a pat. “We’ll do some coloring after yoga class. Listen to the song. Your favorite color is about to be next.”
Ms. Garcia was continuing to belt out “De Colores” loudly when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around, surprised to see Kellianne standing in front of me.
She looked like she’d gone through all nine sections of Dante’s hell, and that wasn’t even being uncharitable. Her eyes were red and swollen, her skin splotchy and lifeless. She’d lost a lot of weight despite already being very slim, and her hair looked like it hadn’t seen a brush since 2000, even though I was pretty sure she wasn’t even alive at the time.
My initial instinct was to hug and comfort her, but then I remembered that our last exchange was less than friendly. I put a protective hand over my belly, stepping back instinctively. “Kellianne. How can I help you?”
“Layla.” She sniffed, looking around the class, like this was the first time she was registering where she was. “I asked management to come pick up the last of my belongings.”
“Oh.” I licked my lips. “Okay, do you need the key to your lock? I should have it in my—”
“Actually, I wanted to speak to you. Do you have a minute?”
“Now isn’t a good time,” I admitted.
Her face fell, her eyes stuck to the floor. I hated that I felt bad for her and wanted to help her despite her cutting words. At the end of the day, I did kind of ruin her wedding. And if someone burst into my hypothetical wedding with Grant and told me he was the worst human on Earth, I’d have laughed in their face.
The difference was, I was sure there were telltale signs of Connor being a shithead way before I’d shed a light on this issue. He didn’t suffer from a bad trait or two. You needed to throw his entire personality into the trash and start from scratch.
But at the end of the day, being mad at her would be victim-blaming. She wasn’t at fault for the things her husband had done to me and other women.
“I understand.” She nodded briskly, then turned toward the door.
“Wait,” I said. She stopped, but she didn’t swivel to face me. I sighed.
“I have my lunch break in twenty minutes. Why don’t we meet at the park across the street? Grab lunch.”
“Okay. Yeah. Thank you.”
“I’ll text you when I’m there.”
“I’ll unblock your number so I can see it.”
Twenty minutes later, I walked to the gardens across from the day care. It was a small round dog park, with benches facing a fountain. The weather was nice, and I was carrying the lunch Grant had packed me this morning. A crustless BLT sandwich with some reduced-sodium Pringles. Since I limited myself to one Diet Coke a week, Grant had found me a replacement—a sugar-free, artificial sweetener–free root beer. He packed me one of those too.
Kellianne was slumped on a bench. She had a Birkin bag beside her and was holding an oil-stained cardboard box with a Whole Foods pizza inside it.
I looked at her, in her designer clothes, with her expensive bag, and felt so sorry for her. Sorry that the only things Connor could give her were materialistic. I’d choose a packed sandwich made from the heart over a twenty-K bag any day of the week.
“Thanks for seeing me.” Kellianne pulled a few tissues from her bag and dabbed her eyes.
I sat next to her, the Birkin serving as a buffer between us, and popped my lunch container open before taking a bite of my BLT. “Sure. Is everything okay?”
She shook her head as she stared down at her Miu Miu loafers. “No. You were right. And I wanted to come and tell you this in person because I was so horrible to you.”
My heart dropped. I took no pleasure in knowing I was right about Connor. This wasn’t about my ego. It never was.
“What happened?” I asked, cracking my drink open.
“It started at the wedding, after you left. Connor was agitated and upset. At one point he wanted to go after you. I had to stop him. He said it was defamation. That you were going to hear from his lawyers.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It amazed me that he’d somehow managed to out-prick his college self. I thought he’d peaked there. “I see he still uses the scare tactics of a one-dimensional villain.”