Delaney James was wearing Chanel the night her husband told her he didn't love her anymore.
In an instant, her picture-perfect Manhattan life-complete with a brownstone on the Upper East Side, a blossoming career as a fashion journalist, and a devas...
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I wake the next day in a fog of exhaustion and dread. My father had found me on the kitchen floor at four a.m., papers scattered around me, my head in my hands as I sobbed. He pried the petition from my grip and made me go to bed, but sleep never came. Instead, memories I'd been keeping at bay crashed through—every cold, cutting word Will said. The way his eyes didn't flicker when he told me Chelsea was moving in. The complete disregard for my feelings.
The wall I've built around my heart feels like it's being dismantled, brick by brick. Greyson's public humiliation yesterday didn't help. I never expected him to embrace me, but I thought we could manage civility. Instead, he called me out in front of a diner full of people. And then, coming home to divorce papers—it's the perfect final blow.
Now the sadness is tangled with fear. I've never been on my own. Will was the breadwinner, the one who bought our house, the one tied to the law office handling this divorce. Without him, I'm unemployed, uninsured, and essentially homeless. Every cent in our account comes from his salary. Nearly everything I own was purchased by him or because of him. When our marriage is officially dissolved, I'll be left with only what I brought to South Grove. All I can do now is hope Will gives me time to figure out how to survive without him.
When Jo texts asking if I want to meet for a drink, I start to reply that I'm not feeling well—but before I hit send, I delete it. The truth is, the last thing I want is to be around people, let alone risk running into Greyson again. But I could really use a drink, and maybe Jo can pull me out of this fog I can't seem to shake.
By the time I get to Jenkins, Jo is already at the bar. The bell over the door jingles as I step inside, drawing a few glances from nearby tables. Her face lights up when she spots me, and she raises her glass of red wine with a grin, waving me over.
"Hey!"
"Hi, Jo." I give her a quick hug before sliding onto the stool beside her. "I'm glad you called—I needed an excuse to get out of the house."
Jo looks effortlessly beautiful, like she always does. Her curls are swept up into a high ponytail, a few loose tendrils brushing her cheeks. Minimal makeup, just enough to draw attention to her heart-shaped lips and those striking violet eyes. She's fuller now, softer in the best way—her white V-neck clings to curves she didn't have in high school, her jeans hugging strong soccer legs that could still probably outrun anyone in this place. She's always been athletic, built to move, but she looks like a woman now—confident in her body.
I glance down at myself, all sharp angles and narrow lines, the byproduct of a vegetarian diet and stress. And yeah... I'm a little jealous.
"Are your parents driving you crazy? Can't be easy living with them again after all this time."
"No, they've been great. I thought it'd be weird, but it's actually fine. I mean, I wouldn't want it to be permanent, but for now, it works."
"First round's on me." Jo signals the bartender. "Love your shirt, by the way."
