Chapter Two
I pushed my way into Jillian’s and sighed when it was clear she wasn’t home yet. She was good at keeping my mind off the current mess that was my life, whether we were talking about the changes she was implementing in her catering business or just chilling watching movies. Without her there to distract me, I also noticed that my stuff was everywhere. There was the blanket-and- pillow stack off to the side of the couch for when it became my bed at night, and the two suitcases I’d taken on the cruise were crammed into one corner. I’d had to borrow an outfit for work today, and on the way home I’d bought a new one for tomorrow. Originally I thought I might try to face Grant tonight, but then I’d gotten an email about a sale at one of my favorite stores, and I’d needed new slacks anyway.
Okay, so I was delaying the inevitable. Putting off things wasn’t my usual style, but this wasn’t a to-do list item that could be easily crossed off with one of my bright-colored gel pens. It was my ex- fiancé and my life that was supposed to be.
Admittedly, it was getting to the ridiculous point. A suitcasefilled with a barely worn wedding dress and another with shorts, tank tops, flip-flops, and bikinis wasn’t quite meeting my needs anymore. I missed my clothes, and especially my shoe collection. Not to mention I was usually neat to the point of OCD-ness, and the lack of places to put my meager belongings and the fact that I might be driving Jillian insane with my mess dug at me. I needed to find a better solution, and soon.
Dad’s place would be a hell of a commute, not to mention moving back in with him felt like a total fail on top of my other fails, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. I also wasn’t sure I’d have a choice before long. I headed to the kitchen and pulled the carton of rocky road ice cream out of the fridge. It’d always been my favorite flavor, but I’d never quite gotten the name before. Now I knew that when the road got rocky, it was always there for you. Of course it wasn’t so nice in the added-poundage aspect.
Note to self: Start going to the gym again. Maybe join a volleyball or softball league. Something to keep me motivated.
I grabbed a spoon and headed to the couch, kicking aside the pair of shoes I’d left next to the coffee table yesterday. Apparently the lid to my ice cream hadn’t completely sealed, and now the chocolaty goodness had a layer of ice crystals and was rock solid. I stabbed at it, trying to chip off a bite.
“Come”—another stab—“on.” Were a couple bites of ice cream really so much to ask on a day like today? So much for it being there for me.
My phone rang, and I groaned when I saw it was my mom. I licked off the minuscule amount of ice cream that’d gotten onto my spoon and then answered.
“How are you doing?” she asked. I’d give her credit, she had the sympathetic tone down, but I didn’t quite trust it. After all, last time we’d spoken she asked why I was even bothering to get married. Conversations with her were always tricky as it was, and I hadn’t had the energy to attempt one since I’d texted to let herknow the wedding hadn’t happened.
I hugged the ice cream carton to me, hoping a tighter gripwould help me dig a bite loose. “I’ve been better, but I’m hanging in there.”
“I can only imagine, knowing how much you wrapped your entire life up in that guy. I said you needed to be careful. That a wedding wasn’t a guarantee.” Here went the I Told You So speech. The divorce from Dad had left her with the opinion that marriage was something best avoided, and she liked to remind me of her stance on a regular basis. Not seeing eye to eye with Mom was nothing new, though. What little time we did spend together during my childhood, she’d filled with encouraging me to act more ladylike, and when I’d gone into wedding planning—which I thought was pretty freaking ladylike—she’d asked why I didn’t want to put my brains to better use. Still, she was my mom, and it was nice of her to check on me, even if her words often came out barbed.
