“I get to pick the music today!” Madison yells. “There’s no way I can listen to oldies anymore. We just got the new Avril Lavigne CD.”
“The 90s aren't oldies, you turds, and if I have to listen to Avril, then you owe me two Alanis Morissette songs, deal?” She grins.
She’s met with massive eye rolls from both girls, but after agreeing, they grab their backpacks and run out the door, not even a nod to their mom as I stand there waving them off.
“Thanks, Court.” She gives me a big hug on her way out. It’s the only ‘I'm sorry for berating you about your life’ I’ll get, so I embrace it and remember she’s only this way because she loves me.
My sister hated Greg, hates a strong word, maybe nothate. More like severely disliked and used every chance she could to make it known. If he told a joke, she wouldn’t laugh. Brought up an important client, she wouldn’t ask questions or fake an interest. If they were alone in a room, you’d think they were rivals because her body language was cold as ice.
She’s on the anti-man train right now because of some bad first dates. At her core, she’s a hopeless romantic and wanted more of an old Hollywood, happily ever after for me than a life in the burbs with my college sweetheart. Her take on love is sweet, but once life kicks in and kids arrive, there’s more to it than lovemaking on a beach surrounded by rose petals.
Speak of the devil. My cell phone rings right as I pull into the club, early for tennis. Not too long ago, a call from Greg would’ve made my heart stop. Now it’s like talking to a stranger.
“Hello?” I answer, sounding brighter than I mean to.
“Look, I’m going out of town with Claire this weekend and won't be able to take the kids. With the ongoing remodel, they probably wouldn’t have much fun at our place anyway.” His voice is muffled, like he’s driving.
“Oh, okay. I understand, but I don’t think they’ll mind. They're really looking forward to coming over, Greg. It’s been a month since you’ve seen them.” I remind him, knowing he couldn’t care less about our custody schedule.
“They’re children Candace, they’ll be fine. While I have you here, I’ll be taking them with me to the cabin for Thanksgiving. We’ll be gone for a few weeks.”
“Kate and Madi have only a week off for break. They can’t be gone longer than that.”
“Then take care of it, Candace. I’ve gotta get back to work. Talk later.”
Click.Conversations over, just like that. Inhaling a deep breath, I check my makeup and grab my purse and water bottle. It wasn’t always like this. We were the dream team. Both of us had a voice and contributed to the relationship in what I thought was a healthy way. After college, when he proposed and showed me this gorgeous gated community we could move into, I agreed immediately. My parents were beside themselves when I told them I would pursue motherhood rather than the courtroom, but Greg was on board, and that’s all that mattered.
We found our rhythm as a unit, even as the girls got older and their schedules dominated family time. Everyone was happy, the house remained clean, and healthy meals were cooked. While the girls were in school, I busied myself with charity functions, PTA meetings, and the occasional trip to the city for art auctions. Greg was a doting husband and father, always buying lavish presents and bringing back expensive bags and jewelry from wherever work took him.
The glass house I lived in shattered into a million pieces along with my heart the morning I found out about the affair. Even though our divorce has been final for just shy of a year, I haven't put a single piece of myself back together. Of course, he chosetoday to be the thorn in my side after my sister dubbed me the queen of Stepford.
My husband traded me in for a newer model. So what man is left wanting someone like me? I don’tneeda new man. I just need something to wake me back up.
ChaptEr 3
Candace
“Well, well, well, right on time, Candace. Good for you, honey,” Betty praises. I force a smile and take my seat at the table.
Of course, I’m on time. The first day of school was the only time I ever recall being late in my life. Growing up, my dad’s rule was: fifteen minutes early means you’re already late. My sister and I would have our curls set the night before an event, saving time the next morning. Betty’s going to hold this over my head for the rest of the year. My luck, she’ll roll it over into the one after that to.
“Good morning to you too, Betty,” I say, keeping my voice light.
Once we’re all seated and agendas ready to go, the door squeaks open, then slams, piercing my eardrums. Naturally, we all look up in surprise, suspicious of anyone entering our space.
“Sorry, dear, you seem to be lost.” The senior hallway is in the next building,” Betty scolds, eyeing the young woman up and down. “I should warn you, your outfit has broken at least a dozen dress code violations. Be thankful we’re about to get started, or I’d escort you to the principal myself.”
“I'm not lost, and definitelynota senior,” she says dryly, confidently waltzing to the table, setting her black leather bag down. “I’m the long-term sub, Nat Reynolds.” She sits down, pulls out a black cell phone and ignores us all, typing so fast I’m waiting to see her fingers crack the screen. Meanwhile, our jaws have made a permanent residence on the floor, and Betty’s has left the building entirely.
“You’re the sub for Mrs. Cummings?” Betty looks Natalie up and down. “There must be a mistake. Our school wouldn’t allow one of those goths to teach our children.”
“Down, girl. No need to get your granny panties in a bunch,” Natalie murmurs, tucking her phone away.
By now, I would’ve said something. Introduced myself and the group, maybe even shook her hand. I’m the president, for crying out loud! Most would agree it’s averypowerful role to hold. At this moment, I feel no more powerful than a doe-eyed schoolgirl daydreaming about the star quarterback. My brain and body are on two separate pages, and I can’t seem to look away from the twenty-something woman next to me.
Her long, jet-black hair’s being held together by a neon pink clip. False lashes and heavy black liner make her electric blue eyes stand out. They’re so mesmerizing I could get lost in them. She’s dressed nothing like any substitute teacher I’ve ever seen, especially not in this town.Where would someone even buy a studded belt like that?
Her skirt is shorter than Betty would consider appropriate for a school setting. Nothing obscene, just a bit over-the-top. Her shirt flaunts a slogan in bold print, that Betty turns her nose upto once she’s read it. Everything about her, from the knee-length boots to the fishnet stockings, feels out of place.
