But…
“I see,” I said. I stopped myself from saying what I really wanted to say, the emotions bubbling up in my chest over the thought that they both were leaving…
And going tohim.
It made my stomach sour.
“Don’t you want us to go?” Brittany asked.
I nodded. “Of course. I just am surprised that your father would want you to stay with him, that’s all.” That sounded somewhat pleasant, right? Not the bitter ex-wife that I tended to be on occasion.
Or most of the time, when that jerk was involved.
After all, he was newly married to his little trophy wife. Why would he want his kids from his old ex to be running around? Especially his gay son that he was so embarrassed by?
My stomach was beyond sour, going straight for knots.
I crossed to the kitchen because now I needed a glass of wine.
Or a bottle.
I’d even take an IV.
The kids followed me into the kitchen.
“He’s really excited about it,” Brittany said. “When we went down on Thanksgiving, he was planning it then.”
I turned and looked at my daughter. “You two knew at Thanksgiving? And you didn’t tell me?”
My heart was breaking. I could feel it. It was shattering in my chest.
My babies were leaving.
To go stay with…
Ugh…
Him…
And her.
I put my hand on the bottle of wine.
Might need all of this tonight.
3
Saturday
Screaming erupted from the back of the salon. It silenced everything in the shop, including the blow dryers.
I did not need this today.
My head pounded from drinking far too much wine last night. The universe must be laughing hard at me since I had been warning Mom and my sisters away from the wine last night. And now I’m the hungover one.
I pivoted to the rear of the shop, my brain exploding in curses that I would never dare let leave my lips on the salon floor.
What? What could this possibly be? And who am I going to punch for screaming like that, because, seriously, this was a business.
