Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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I wake up the next day in a horrible mood. I'm exhausted. My father found me on the kitchen floor at four o'clock in the morning, papers everywhere and head in my hands as I sobbed hysterically. He took the petition from me and forced me to go to bed, but I still couldn't fall asleep. It's been a month, but suddenly, the conversation between Will and I came rushing back. Almost like I've had amnesia and suddenly regained all my memories. All the hurtful things he said to me. His cold, dismissive demeanor. How he didn't even blink when he told me Chelsea was moving in. The way he disregarded my feelings.
I'm sad. I feel like the wall I've built around my heart to keep it from shattering is being knocked down brick by brick. Greyson's reaction in the diner isn't helping. I didn't expect him to embrace me, tell me he missed me and ask me to dinner so we could catch up, but I hoped we could at least friends. I didn't think he'd call me out and embarrass me in a room full of people. Then, to come home and receive divorce papers was the cherry on top of a depression sundae.
I'm scared. I'm terrified of being on my own. Will and I don't have children. He's the money maker. He bought our house, and he has an in with the law office the divorce was filed through, so this process might go very quickly. I'm unemployed. I have nowhere to live. Every penny in our bank account comes from Will's salary. He pays for my health insurance. Every article of clothing I own has either been purchased by him or because of him. I have nothing but the things I came to South Grove with. There's no way I'll be able to support myself once we're no longer legally tethered, and the only thing I can do is hope Will gives me enough time to figure it out.
When I get a text from Jo asking if I want to meet her for a drink, I immediately text her back that I don't feel well, but just as I go to hit send, I change my mind. The last thing I want is to be around people – not to mention take the chance of seeing Greyson again – but I could really use a drink.
Maybe she can get me out of this funk I can't seem to shake.
When I get to Jenkins Jo is already at the bar. The bell above the door rings upon my entrance, causing the patrons in the bar to look. Jo's face lights up when she sees me, and she lifts her glass filled with red wine in the air and waves me over.
"Hey, blondie!"
"Hey, brownie," I say. I give her a quick hug and sit on the stool next to her. "I'm glad you called. I really needed to get out of the house."
Jo looks beautiful, as she always does. Her curly hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. Her makeup is simple again, but it's enough to accentuate her heart-shaped lips and violet, almond-shaped eyes. She's curvier than she used to be. Supple, voluptuous breasts fill out the v-neckline of her white t-shirt. A flat stomach and narrow waist lead to curvy hips, and her thicker legs fill out dark, skinny jeans perfectly. Jo played soccer her entire life, so she's always been built well, but she looks like a woman now, and seeing as how my vegetarian diet gave me the figure of a prepubescent boy, I'm a little jealous.
