It wouldn’t be good to travel while pregnant in case I suffered morning sickness.
He needed to spend extra time at work before and after he made partner at the law firm my great grandfather founded.
Always a reasonable excuse to put off starting a family.
And I bought them all. Hook, line, and sinker.
Until the woman who called herself executive assistant instead of secretary announced she was pregnant.
With my dream man’s baby.
It infuriates me to think I wasted most of my adult life on a man who so easily turned us into a cliché.
And to add insult to injury, it isn’t even twelve months since our divorce was final and they are expecting baby number two any day.
Sitting here, I can’t decide if my best friend’s suggestion to start dating was a good idea or not. It has taken my mind off everything Julian robbed me of. Especially when he seems happy to give my dreams to someone else. Not that I want him back. Or wish I was her.
No. I am well and truly over my ex-husband, and honestly, with time and distance, I can say I’m grateful to be out of that one-sided relationship. It has taken a while, a lot of internal reflection and talking to my best friends, but I finally accept Julian never loved me the way I’d loved him. Or loved who I thought he was.
Turns out, the loving, honorable man I believed I married was a figment of my imagination.
I don’t feel like I missed out on something with Julian. But I did misssomething. I’m just not sure what’s missing is something most of us are lucky enough to find.
It doesn’t help that my best friend has stumbled on to one of the good ones. A man who worships the ground she walks on, treats her like an equal—like she matters—and supports her in everything she does. I’ve never seen a relationship like theirs.
Then again, Carter isn’t from our social circle, doesn’t come from money or privilege. He might not be rolling in cash but he is rolling in morals. He would never cheat on Olivia. Never knock up his assistant then marry her the second his first wife was legally removed.
“Fuck!”
It feels good to yell the curse even if it is contained inside my car and no one can hear me. Maybe that’s why it feels so good. Maybe that’s my problem. Instead of worrying about what everyone else wants, I should worry aboutme. Do only whatIwant.
Maybe I should forget about finding new people to enter my life and concentrate on those already in it. I don’t need a man to buy me things or take me places. I can do that myself.
And spending time with men who aren’t interested in anything more than a roll in the sheets or someone to suck their dick isn’t what I want to be doing either.
Except at heart, I’m a pleaser. I know it. I thought I’d curbed those tendencies after my divorce, but maybe I haven’t. Maybe I’m the pushover Julian once told me I was.
Dinner tonight is a classic example of my doormat ways. I agreed to meet my date at a restaurant I knew I’d hate.
Rawmight attract the elite of Sydney’s society and serve the best sashimi in the city with the prices to match, but I’m not a fan of fish. Raw or otherwise.
Which burns even more when the toad—tonight’s date does not deserve frog status—expected me to pay for my own meal!
I open my eyes to find the street through my windshield empty. The flashy car my date arrived in is no longer parked in front of mine.
I scoff. The toad didn’t even stick around to make sure I not only got into my car safely but got safely on my way.
Slapping the steering wheel with my palm, I let loose the emotions rising in my chest with a primal scream.
When I slap it a second time, I wrap my fingers around the cool leather and yell, “I’m done with selfish men!” Shoving the key in the ignition and turning it, I yell, “So done with men!”
Except when my voice fades away, the only response I get from my car is a quiet click, click, click. And with each twist of the key, I realize I might be forced to deal with the opposite sex after all.
2
GARRETT
There’s something about the woman across the street that stops me in my tracks. Something familiar, something that niggles at a memory…
