“I’ll have her start on that.” Simone nodded before she left in the same tornado of what-the-hell-just-happened as Kitty.
“Weren’t they my support team?” April stared at the now closed door.
Rachel gave a sly smile. “I think that’s exactly what they are right now.”
April’s pulse evened out at that assertion. These ladies were so very much her rocks. And when the pieces had cracked, they’d filled them with gold long before Jack came to town.
She laughed because she wasn’t a phoenix. No one burned her to ashes, even though Kent had truly tried. No, she wasn’t a phoenix.
She was April.
And April may fall, but she always gets right back up again.
She steeled her spine. The little pieces of heart she’d grown back since Kent left her were strong enough to love again. Not that she really had a choice in the matter, since those pieces went rogue and fell in love with Jack all on their own.
“Are we…uh…ready?” Production Guy—Jim—asked.
April nodded.
Jim made a few minor adjustments to the lighting while Rachel flipped the deadbolt on the door—a good idea given, well…Kitty.
April inserted the earbuds and glanced at the microphone on her lapel.
They loaded up the talk show. She took a breath. Counted backward from ten, nine, eight, seven…until she was on.
Chapter Thirty-Five
“You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t how hard you hit; it’s about how hard you can get hit, and keep moving forward. How much you can take, and keep moving forward.”
—Sylvester Stallone as Rocky Balboa
(Clearly, not a mother figure, but he makes a good point.)
April
She was ambushed.
This wasnotgood. Beyond not good and verging fast into horrible territory.
What April had expected as a nicePractical Parenting,Jack-approved introduction was so far south, they might as well settle down in Antarctica. April had, as requested, sent over details of her philosophy and a few samples of her motherhood meditations to use for her introduction.
This was not the introduction the show elected to use.
April was not an avid viewer, but like every other mother in the country with internet access, she’d seen glimpses of Paisley Sutton’sPractical Parentingprogram. She’d enjoyed what she viewed. Always respected the hostess and the guests she brought on to illuminate the varieties of parenting philosophies.
Until now.
Now? She wasn’t entirely sure she could keep her face from turning the same shade of plum as her shirt. April had gone with a purple blouse, because fuck it, Kent hated that color and she loved it. But no one cared about the color of her clothing during an ambush.
She forced her expression to remain passively neutral as the show veered from the agreed-upon topic of meditation and parenting straight into viral territory. Embarrassingly viral territory. Straight-up STD-level viral.
She didn’t get why Paisley would do this—other than the ratings, obviously. Paisley with her red hair and green eyes highlighted by a pretty emerald cashmere sweater. She looked the part of any other mom friend. Paisley was a single mother in her own right. Two kids and one ex-husband who sometimes cohosted with her.
Single mothers should stick together, not backstab each other with butter knives.
As Harmony would say, this was bullshit.
“I thought we were discussing meditation and parenting today,” April said evenly, though viral April still shopped on the screen. The webcam stayed on April in her living room as her video rolled in the background. They did that screen-on-screen drop-in of her watching the most embarrassing moment of her life because that made for more viewers.
