1
Warner
TWO YEARS AGO
Everything it took to get to this point… well, it feels like it should’ve happened to someone else.
Peyton and Charlie sit opposite me in the booth, munching on kid-sized cheeseburgers. I have no idea how I’m going to handle this, only that I will.
Being a single father isn’t something I pictured for my life, but then again, neither is any of what I’ve gone through the past few years.
We’re on our own now.
2
Tenley
If I could changeone detail about the whole story, it would be that he should’ve chosen better.
Anextra?
It’s so… so…common.
Plump lips, slim hips, fake tits.
He could have damn near anyone, and he chose the human equivalent of vanilla ice cream.
Celebrity Dirt broke the news. I don’t read that trash, but others do. Like my best friend Morgan’s aunt. Living alone in a double-wide trailer in Utah, Aunt Patty enjoys crocheting, her air fryer, and following celebrities.
On that Monday morning, she settled in her worn blue armchair, opened her phone, and navigated to her favorite celeb gossip site. The story was less than a minute old. Aunt Patty was the first to comment, a fact she mentioned proudly when she called Morgan.
It was Morgan who called me.
“Rule of thumb is never to believe this garbage, I know. But...” She stopped, as if she were gathering enough strength to continue.
It was her pause that made me jump from the treadmill. “Go on,” I instructed through labored breathing, sweat matting my baby hairs to my neck.
“There are photos.” Morgan’s tone was an apology, as if she was the person who should be apologizing.
That was four days ago.Four days ago.
Ninety-six hours to disassemble a life we spent two years building.
The headline readTate Mack Caught Canoodling With Extra.If it hadn’t been for the pictures, I’d have written it off.
Just like I’d always done.
* * *
He came for his blender.
I sat at the dining room table and watched him. His tail should’ve been between his legs, but his ego is too large to allow such a thing.
He stands in front of me now, the high-powered blender cradled in his arms. The machine can make ice cream, soup, and macerate fruit. I feel as though my heart has taken a turn through its blades.
He stares at me. His shirt hugs his muscled arms, his sweats fit just right. Damn him for looking so good. I’ve been crying, and it shows.
“Tenley,” he starts, stepping closer.
