Page 11 of The Unwanted Wife

She moved from New York and is working for a Michelin-starred chef in London, and like me, barely takes a day off.

She couldn’t make it to the book club reading today and apologized in advance, promising she’ll meet us very soon. So, it’s not her.

"Who are you talking about?" "It’s my?—"

There’s the muted roar of a motorcycle driving up. The pipes on the vehicle are loud enough for the vibrations to cause the doorframe to shudder. I exchange glances with the other girls, then walk over to the door.

Before I reach it, it’s wrenched open, and a figure fills the doorway. The person is wearing a jumpsuit and has a helmet tucked under her armpit. She stomps inside, her heavy motorcycle boots making a thudding noise on the wooden floor. Her hair is shoulder length and has grey threaded through the brown strands, interspersed with streaks of blue. Tattoos adorn her throat. Then she spots Zoey and her face splits into a big smile. “Zoey!” She reaches Zoey, throws her arms about the younger woman, and hugs her.

Zoey squeezes her shoulders, then steps back and turns to us. "Everyone, meet my Granny, Imelda."

There’s silence, then I manage to pick up my jaw from where it seems to have fallen to the ground and head toward the older woman. "Hello, I’m?—"

"Skylar, the owner of this cute-as-fuck bakery." She eschews my outstretched arm and hugs me. "Amazing place you've got here. Hope you don’t mind my tagging along. When Zoey told me about this smutty book club, I had to join." She rubs her hands together. “Nothing like a bit of spiciness to get the blood flowing."

"I know, right?" Summer draws abreast. "I love the tattoos, by the way." She nods toward the designs that are visible around her neck.

"Thank you, dear. I always wanted a tattoo, but once I got the first one, I couldn’t stop." Imelda’s smile grows wider.

"Was that a Harley you drove in on?" Grace joins us.

"Indeed." Imelda nods. "To think, I never drove one until a year ago."

“Gran… I mean, Imelda’s part of a motorcycle gang," Zoey chimes in.

I look at her grandmother with something like respect, as do the others.

"You girls are probably thinking, what’s a seventy-year-old doing, acting like Jax Teller, huh?" She laughs.

She knows who Jax Teller is? Also, why am I not surprised by that? "Not really. I’m not—" I begin to say, but when Imelda gives me a knowing look, I nod and shut up. I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind.

Imelda looks around at us, then nods toward the tray of pastries in Summer’s hand.

“May I?”

“Of course.” Summer offers her the selection.

“Why don’t you come sit down? I’ll get you a drink.” I lead her to the table where the others are seated.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a Chai Latte, would you, dear?” Imelda takes a seat, then helps herself to a Vanilla Vajayjay, and bites into it. “Oh,” she moans, “this is incredible!” She closes her eyes, chews, swallows, then proceeds to demolish the rest of the pastry.

Meanwhile, I slip away and prepare her drink. Returning to the group, I slide the Chai Latte across the table before taking the chair across from her.

"Thanks, honey." She takes a sip of the piping hot liquid before looking around at our faces. "Where was I?"

"Jax Teller," Summer prompts her from the chair next to me.

"That’s right. After my Joseph passed away—God rest his soul—I thought my life was also over. Until one day, he came to me in my dreams and told me it was time to do everything I’d always wanted to."

"And you were sure it was him talking to you?" I move around, trying to find a more comfortable position in my seat.

"When you love someone, you know." She inclines her head. "I woke up, realizing for the first time in my life, I was not only on my own, but I could do anything I wanted. I wasn’t answerable to anyone. Not that I had to keep Joseph appraised of everything I did, but you know what I mean. I paid my dues. I could now spend my money and time on myself. Makes you wonder why I couldn’t think like that when he was alive, because he wouldn’t have stopped me from buying a Harley. It was my own mind that set up all the mental roadblocks." She looks into her cup. "Makes you think, huh?" She seems to get a hold of herself. "Anyway, I took his advice to heart, and the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of the local Harley dealership. Which is how I came to own Beast."

"That’s what she calls her alphahole in this book." Summer holds up a paperback with flowers on the cover. "Of course, the reason she calls him Beast is not the same as the reason your Harley’s called that."

"Oh, you’d be surprised. Having that massive rod between my legs has the added benefit of spontaneous O’s."

I burst out laughing, as do my friends. My phone vibrates, and I look down at it to see Ben’s name on the screen. "Excuse me."

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