Page 3 of Beauty Of Her

My head shot up from my soiled shirt, and there he was, in all his well-rested glory: Peter, my ex and the father to our girls. I squinted, eyeing his immaculate appearance. How did he always look effortlessly put together in his perfect pale-yellow polo that hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist with navy cargo shorts hanging right above his knee? Not even a single strand of sandy hair was out of place. He was the perfect male specimen but born with imperfect intentions. In short, Peter broke my heart, and while he was thriving, I was silently trying to heal every lonely night.

“Where are the girls?” Peter held up his hands, palms up.

I rolled my eyes, so typical. “They just went in.”

“Tell them to come back out.” Peter’s ice-blue eyes popped.

“It’s too late. You’ll see them again this week.” I shrugged and walked to my car, bumping shoulders with Peter.

“Hey, you did that on purpose.” Peter was hot on my heels. “What are you pissed or something?”

“No. I’m just used to this a little too much.” I continued to my car, not daring to look back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter stepped on the back of my heel, and I fell forward, catching myself just in time against the passenger door of my car. “Hey! Careful,” I snarled.

“Sorry, are you okay?” Peter frowned and bent down to assess the damage.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re pissed at me.” He planted his hands on his hips.

“I’m not. I just want to go to fucking work.”

Just then, a happy couple, similar in age to us, walked by Peter and me and shot us a scowl.

“Keep your voice down,” Peter warned, inching closer. God, why did he always smell like sweet cinnamon? “Why are you so mad?”

“Zoe is mad all the time. I guess it’s rubbing off.” I walked to the other side of my car and flung the door open. My watch told me that I would officially be late to work if I didn’t book it from the school in five minutes.

“Do you think we should try therapy again?” Peter followed me around. The guy just couldn’t get a clue when to get lost.

“We’ll talk about it later. I have to go to work now.” I collapsed into the driver’s seat and started the ignition. Peter flung his muscled arm against the car door, stopping me from shutting him out.

“I had to drive Joel to the station this morning. He’s starting a new job and was nervous. He said he’d only calm down if I drove him.” Peter’s bottomless orbs begged me to forgive him. Except, I just didn’t want to. I knew he prioritized Joel before the girls, and they knew it, too.

“I don’t care.” I pulled the door, but Peter’s strength trumped my efforts. “Peter, let go of the door. I have to go.” I clenched my jaw.

“Why are you always so angry?” He twisted his face and loosened his grip.

“Because I don’t want you to try and make me feel bad for Joel. He doesn’t give a shit about our kids. So, what makes you think I care about him?”

Peter pursed his lips and jammed his hands into his pockets. “That’s not true. You’ve always painted Joel to be some selfish monster.”

And that was exactly how I viewed Peter’s boyfriend, Joel. He was the one to convince Peter to leave his family overnight without the slightest explanation, and what was even worse? He convinced Peter that everything that had gone wrong in Peter’s life was my fault. And my inability to understand Peter’s needs. What my ex-husband failed to express to me throughout our marriages was that he was actually homosexual and essentially married me to appease his conservative, buttoned-up parents.

“I’ll talk to you later. Hopefully, the girls will finish their dinner by seven if you’d like to call then.” I glanced at my ex, who couldn’t make eye contact with me anymore, stared at his caramel boat shoes, and finally shut the door.

“Oh my God. What does he want from you? Friendship?” Amelia asked, gasping as I recounted my morning over coffee in my office. She was my best friend from childhood, and somehow, we managed to end up working for the same marketing firm. I was now her boss, since a year ago after my promotion to senior vice president of the Northeast region. Amelia turned all the right heads whenever she walked into a room. Her dark wavy hair fell easily past her shoulders, and her intense onyx eyes and olive skin would make any creature with a pulse take a second look.

“I really don’t know anymore. I’ve never acted nasty since the divorce but haven’t been sweet as pie.” I shook my head, taking a bite of a stale blueberry scone. The pastry didn’t even taste good. I was simply consuming the treat because it was fattening. “It’s like Peter just irritates me. And I think you’re right. He does want to know that he and I can be buddies.”

“Buddies.” Amelia’s fierce, deadpan expression matched mine. “He sounds like the biggest tool in the shed.” She popped a plump red grape into her mouth and lifted a wicked eyebrow.

“What?” A rush of heat flooded my cheeks. Whenever Amelia painted a mischievous smile across her face, I always braced myself for what would spill from her sexually free mouth.

“Do you know what you need?” Amelia splayed her manicured red nails against the Lucite desk.

“Don’t say it.” I held up a silencing hand.

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