Ichange my outfit four times.Four times.
First, I went super casual. Shorts and a t-shirt.
“You planning on cleaning today?” Katya asked.
I went back to my closet. I put on a simple but nice cocktail dress.
“You planning on getting laid?” she asked.
I sighed and went back to the drawing board. The next one meets amusement. “Is he taking you to a frat party?”
So, maybe jeans and a sweatshirt was not it.
Finally, a simple pale blue summer dress with white flowers that came to mid-calf meets her approval.
“I don’t want what I’m wearing to scream I’m trying too hard,” I explain as I ponder if I should go with lipstick or lip gloss.
“Youaretrying too hard,” she remarks as she leans against the doorway of my bedroom.
“Hedoesn’t need to know that.” Lip gloss it is.
I forego eyeliner and just stick to mascara.
“Speaking of dates, how did Cristiano’s go?”
I just had a pedicure. My nails are painted a gorgeous pink. A happy summer color. So I can actually wear something cute.
On the other hand, does showing your pink toes mean ‘let’s fuck?’
“Goodish,” Katya says thoughtfully. “He says he had fun but has no desire to see her again,andhe didn’t want to fuck her.”
“Did you and he ever…?”
Katya bursts out laughing. “Cris is…like a brother, a pal. Also, I knew his fiancée. She was great. I really liked her. Besides, he and I havezerosexual chemistry.”
I finally decided upon a pair of simple white sandals.
My toes look nice. Aiden can just go fuck himself—which I hope is all he’s doing and not Diana—if he has a problem with it.
“I don’t know when I’ll be able to date or even have sex,” I confess.
“You’re going on a date in about fifteen minutes, Mia,” she points out with a smirk.
I give her a dry look, barely hiding my irritation. “Youknowwhat I mean.”
She shakes her head, her eyes softened with compassion. “Doyouknow what you mean? Mia, it’s obvious to everyone, you want to reconcile with your husband.”
I bite my lower lip. “Do I?”
“Well, you at least want to see if he’s going to be abetter husband, a better man, and, honey, that’s not a bad thing.” She steps into my room, and tucks a loose curl of hair behind my ear. “You love him. He loves you. You guys just need to figure out how to communicate better,andhe has to earn your trust back…also”—she grins—“he’s got to get a lip transplant so you can get past him kissingher.”
The memory of the kiss still hurts, but not as sharply as it used to.
It's been six months since Christmas Eve, when I handed him the divorce papers. It's been a month since the divorce was finalized.
But it's not only the passage of time that has made the difference.
Having Aiden apologize, tell me that he loves me every day, make an effort to change, give up his parents, defend me against Diana…all of it has blunted the pain,butit hasn’t taken it away.
