“But you said—”
“No, Abi. I just never corrected you.”
“But why not just tell us?” asked Rachel.
“Because, well, because both of you are so educated. You have your doctorate, for heaven’s sake. But I’m beginning to wonder if even someone with a degree would be having problems if she hasn’t filled out a job application since we were all dancing the Macarena.”
Mom took another sip of wine, apparently fascinated with Parker’s house. Neither Abi nor Rachel had anything to say to that. Were they judging me? Thinking of ways to help? Thinking that this was what I deserved for not finishing college?
“You could always go back to school,” Rachel said.
Spoken like a true teacher.
“How am I going to pay for tuition, Rach?”
“Loans?” asked Abi.
“And how will I get those without someone cosigning for the woman who doesn’t have a job?”
No one had an answer for that.
Well, good.
Maybe I had made the bed I was lying in, but I’d smoothed over that duvet in good faith. My only mistake had been believing Mitch was serious when he said he’d love and take care of me forever. Silly me. I’d thought we were partners.
“We’ll help however we can,” Rachel said.
“Absolutely,” said Abi.
Mom chose that moment to meet my eyes. Her eyes told me my friends meant well, but they could do only so much. Quietly, she added, “Maybe it’s time for you to pound the pavement.”
Chapter 25
I was sitting in my office minding my own business, following up on the jobs I’d applied for and polishing my résumé, when Mitch appeared at my doorway. He wore workout clothes. Of course he was going to continue his new exercise regimen for his equally new lady love.
I ignored him.
“Vivian,” he said finally.
“Yes, Mitchell?”
“I just wanted to let you know that you win. It’ll take me a couple of weeks, but I’ll gather my things and move in with ...” He paused.
“Tabitha,” I said. “I already know you’re having an affair with Tabitha. I know she’s pregnant, too. Congratulations, by the way.”
He winced.
Good.
“You know, I really had hoped it wouldn’t be like this.”
For once, he sounded tired, his tone steeped in remorse.
“How did you think it would be?” I asked softly. “You made all these plans that involved me—and some that didn’t involve me—and were planning to tell me when? Per usual, you never asked me how I felt. You never gave me a chance to remedy whatever it was that was eating at you.”
“You never complained about me being in charge before.”
“Mitch, I don’t even want to fight right now. You’ve thrown my life into chaos, and I’m trying to find a damn job. When the divorce goes through, I won’t even have health insurance.”
