Page 73 of Love Her

Chapter 32

Felicity

“You are the cutest little man ever. Gosh, Gigi, he’s just precious. I can’t get over it.”

My friend smiles at me, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. I love coming to Brian and Gigi’s on my lunch break and cuddling with their newborn son. Bright eyes full of wonder and awe look at me. Oliver Stephen Jones is a happy and sweet baby and he has just activated baby fever in me.

“Oh, I know that look. I know the first few days after we came home I swore I’d never birth another child but then I sit and hold him, and I want a dozen more.”

“I don’t know about a dozen but maybe one,” I coo at him.

“How are you doing, Lis? Really?”

Shrugging, I don’t lift my gaze from the cuteness looking back at me. Only three weeks old, Oliver is lucky. The only disappointment he’s faced in his life is that the little animals on his mobile don’t talk back to him.

“I’m muddling through. I was naïve enough to think being divorced from Michael meant I wouldn’t be affected by his actions.”

“What does your attorney say?” Gigi asks as Oliver begins to fuss in my arms. Transferring him from my hold to hers, she settles back into the cushions of the couch.

“Not much. Michael has actually been forthcoming that I had no idea what he was up to. The fact that I walked away with nothing and he hasn’t been paying child support seems to have satisfied that part of their investigation. It doesn’t mean the press has the same satisfaction. The kids have taken the brunt of it, and I hate that for them but I’m equally proud because they’re handling it better than I am.”

My attorney called this morning and told me Michael has negotiated a plea deal. He’ll be gone long into our children’s adulthood and while it sucks for them to not have their father in their life, I can’t imagine he had any plans to be anyway. Some days, I still can’t believe how blind I was. How easily I believed him. That bank account he mentioned offshore hasn’t been mentioned but I assume even if Michael still had access to the money, it would be seized as soon as he touched it.

“And Connor?”

Connor. I haven’t spoken to him since that day he was in my mom’s shop. The day I apologized to him and he didn’t reply. Not a text or a call. He hasn’t caught my eye at the baseball field or walking down the street. In fact, I haven’t seen him at baseball or in town this week.

“Nothing has changed. It’s over.”

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out. Y’all were such a cute family when we saw you together. I was hopeful.”

So was I. Instead of dwelling on what could have been, I change the subject and enjoy the rest of my break with my friend. We may no longer be talking about Connor, but he is still in my thoughts. Breakups happen. Relationships end. I understand that and, in most ways, I accept it. If only we had closure. If only he were interested in hearing what happened from me.

Ashton assures me he knows the truth, and I believe she was honest with him. We’ve come a long way in our new friendship. We aren’t best friends by any means, but at least we can say hello in passing now instead of spewing insults at one another. Progress at its finest. I suppose through all of this chaos, that has been the shining light. I’m able to walk through town without my reputation flashing over my head.

After hugging Gigi, I place a kiss to the top of Oliver’s head and say goodbye. My heart is lighter after an hour with the little guy. I’ve only pulled away from the curb when my cell phone rings. Looking at the screen I don’t recognize the number, but the prefix tells me it’s from Lexington.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Ashton.”

“Oh. Hi.”

We may have moved on from hating one another, but it isn’t like we exchanged numbers and planned to get a manicure together. Her call is unexpected but not unwelcome.

“Don’t sound so confused.”

Her laughter fills the line and I smile, releasing a breath. “Sorry. I don’t think we’ve ever spoken on the phone.”

“I called you once in third grade and invited you to my birthday.”

This time, it’s my turn to laugh. “I can hardly remember what day of the week it is, and you remember a call from when we were what, nine? What happened to pregnancy brain?”

“Oh I have that in spades. It took me five minutes to find my phone this morning. It was in my hand with the flashlight app on. I have no control over this brain of mine. It does what it wants. Speaking of, it wants to invite you to a girls’ night.”

“What?” I squeak out.

“Girls’ night? Sometimes we go to paint and sip, others we eat our weight in nachos, but mostly we sit around and talk about nothing and drink wine. Except Dakota and, well, me now. I do miss wine.”

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