“The bad news is I won’t be able to get a place for Paige and me just yet, but the good news is I can begin to contribute to the household finances.”
Something catches the corner of my eye and I turn slightly to see a large box beside the sofa.
My heart feels like it’s being strangled. Gerard had better not be sending clothes and stuff to Paige to try and win favor. I had friends back in California who went through divorces and, inevitably, it all became about who could win the most favor with the kids.
Had I ever anticipated Gerard and I getting divorced (and the thought never crossed my mind) I expected we’d be above that kind of petty war-waging.
I turn back to see my mom raking her eyes curiously over my outfit. Then we both speak at the same time.
“Whatareyou wearing?—?”
“What’s in the box?—?”
I huff out a breath and try to pad down the bulkiness around my hips. The stranger’s shirt drowns me.
“I went to grab a coffee on the way to my lawyer’s office. Some guy walked into me and his coffee went all over my blouse.”
I feel the beginnings of a blush crawl into my cheeks.
“I explained I had a mediation to get to and he gave me his shirt.”
I’m leaving out a lot of information here, but I mean, thatispretty much what happened.
“What?” My teenage daughter scrunches up her face, looking deeply appalled, in that way only teenage daughters can. “So he just happened to be carrying a spare shirt?”
I shift from one foot to the other.
“No, he—he wasn’t carrying it. He was wearing it.”
Gosh. When I say it aloud, it sounds a little… dubious.
Paige lowers her phone to give me her undivided attention, something I haven’t been granted since 2022.
“What, he just stripped off in the middle of the coffee shop?”
“I suppose so. I wasn’t really paying attention.”Oh, the lie. “By the time I noticed, he’d pulled a jacket on.”
“Goodness!” Mom flaps a hand in front of her face. “Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”
I allow myself a small smile. “I guess not.”
“That blouse needed to go,” she adds. “Even a man’s shirt several sizes too large for you looks a damn sight better than that thing you had on earlier.”
I take a long breath in, then remember the box.
“So, what’s in there?” I ask, pointing to the package taking up a reasonable portion of the room.
“It’s addressed to you,” Paige says.
I prod a finger into my own chest. “Me?”
Paige stands and comes over to me as I locate the address label. She’s right. There’s a large sticker with my name, Erin Applebaum, right there in the center.
“It got here a couple hours ago. I’ve been dying to find out what’s in it.”
I cross to Mom’s writing desk and locate a pair of scissors, then I set to work opening the box. Confusion sets in when there’s yet another box inside it. Only this one has a logo I recognize printed across the top.Saks Fifth Avenue.
What? Who would be sending something to me from Saks? The friends I had in California could certainly afford to, but they were dismissive of New York stores. Nothing could ever compete with Rodeo Drive, darling. Mallorie has never shopped there in her life, and Gerard wouldn’t buy me anything now, on principle.
