“Fine.”
Even then, I wondered why he didn’t protect me and instead just let me catch the brunt of his family’s disapproval. Now I know why. We were not suited. He needed to be with someone like Diana, who is always appropriately dressed.
Givenchy. Versace. Chanel. Christian Dior.
The image of their kiss, now etched in my memory, fills my mind again.
I close my eyes but open them when Katya squeezes my hand.
“It hits youhardonce in a while.” Cristiano studies me with affection and compassion. “It becomes less and less as the days go by.”
“A part of me is so happy to not be there—because that whole family sucks.”
“Big time!” Katya smirks. “I remember how they treated the kids. They were dressed like tiny fashion dolls. And no one actually talked to them. I think the dog got more attention.”
That makes me laugh, even as something in my chest aches. “They don’t have a dog. Edith is allergic.”
“Which makes my point!” Katya announces. “The kids love you, though.”
“They clung to me. Probably because I’m the only one who gets down on the floor and colors with them.”
“You were always the soft place in that house.” Katya’s voice is gentle. “And it’s their loss that they never appreciated it.”
Cristiano glances between us, and shakes his head with a smile. “Rich people are exhausting.”
“You’re rich,” Katya points out.
“Which is how I know.” He winks at me.
We all laugh again, the kind of laugh that comes from deep in your gut. The sound fills Katya’s cottage with something better than music.
I curl my legs under me, and sink deeper into the couch. I need to head to bed before I fall asleep on the couch—and then I giggle.
“What?” Katya asks.
“I can fall asleep on the couch after a party and no one will say anything.”
“Hell, I insist we sleep on the couch.”
“I’m going to need a bed. I’m not tiny like both of you to be able to sleep on any of these couches,” Cristiano mutters, but he doesn’t move as he sits on the carpet, warmed by the heated floors.
“You can sleep in the guestroom,” I offer.
“It’s your room and not a guestroom,” Katya snaps.
Tears fill my eyes as my emotions, once again, run away from me. Katya’s generosity, her support, and her friendship come at no cost. She expects nothing in return.
Why couldn’t I marry someone like her?
We all freeze when the doorbell goes off.
Cristiano rolls up from lounging to sitting, and looks at his watch. “I’ll see who it is.”
He stands and goes to the door, and looks through the window. He turns to face us. “It’s your soon-to-be ex-husband, Mia.”
The bell rings again.
Incensed, Katya walks to the door, past Cristiano, and opens it, blocking my view of the man standing on her doorstep. “Fuck off.”
