Page 14 of The Problem with Dating

“I can’t come tonight. I have Sip & Dish with the girls,” I told Willow.

She released the most dramatic sigh. “Why are you still hanging out with those people? I thought you’d be free of them after the divorce.”

“They’re my friends. We’ve been doing Sip & Dish for years now. Plus, they’re coming over to see my new place.” Sip & Dish was when the wives of a few police officers and I went to one another’s houses to watch either cooking reality shows or bad reality shows where we’d drink fancy cocktails and dish about our lives. We’d just finished the cooking competition showBite Sizedand were now ontoThe Real Housewives of New York. I started the tradition after our husbands complained about our reality show addictions. It had been going on ever since, and I looked forward to it weekly.

“Just make sure to sage your space after they leave. And stop letting people get away without paying you,” Willow remarked before disappearing into the back to help out for the day.

I wished Mr. Parker would’ve thought about my anxiety before he left me his pride and joy. Sure, running the shop was a dream of mine, and having him pass it down to me felt like the greatest gift he could’ve ever given me. But each day I allowed someone to escape without paying, I felt like I let him down.

Each day, I wished I could be bolder like Avery or less afraid like Willow. Sometimes, I wondered what it was like to have a nervous system that wasn’t always in overdrive from any or all types of human interaction. I wondered what it was like not to overthink every situation and conversation during the day. But I settled into a pool of worry and anxiety that twisted my guts into such knots that I lived on the fear that, at any moment, my internal organs would erupt from the level of stress I was under. It only started when I became a business owner. What they didn’t tell you about running your own business was that you’d have to run your anxiety, too. My emotions over having a business were like another full-time job—which only paid in tears and tequila shots.

I probably should’ve invested in therapy, but seeing how the bills were behind, I’d have to do what every other poor soul did—find TikToks where random people shared their therapists' advice and apply it to my life until I felt somewhat okay. A false Band-Aid of healing, if you will.

After work, I headed home and prepped for Sip & Dish. I made piña colada cocktails since theReal Housewives of New Yorkwere going on their group trip to an island that evening. It seemed very on-theme. Around seven, I was surprised when no one had arrived yet. Jenny was always on time. Rory and Rachel normally showed up early to any and every event.

I sent out a few text messages but received no replies.

Around seven thirty, Lori buzzed my door to be let inside the apartment building, easing my nerves. That was until she arrived at my door.

I smiled at my friend as she stood in the apartment hallway. “Hey, Lori! What’s going on? Everyone’s late and not answering my texts. The show already started, but I’m recording it so we can restart when—”

“We’re having Sip & Dish at Rory’s house tonight, Yara.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Oh? I didn’t get the update. I can grab my keys and head over—”

“You’re not invited,” she cut in.

“Wait, what?”

She frowned and shook her head slightly as she combed her red hair behind her ears. “Sweetie, we heard your divorce was finalized the other day.”

“Yeah, I know you heard that. I was the one who told you.”

“Exactly. We went along with everything over the past year because we truly thought you’d come to your senses and get back together with Cole. But when you didn’t…” She sighed. “Sip & Dish was started for the wives of the police department, Yara. For thewives,” she repeated as if she wanted to clarify that I was no longer a wife.

I stood a bit perplexed at what she was getting at. “I started the group.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “And you did great, trust me. But…you’re not a wife anymore.”

I snickered, stunned, as I shook my head. “You can’t be serious, Lori.”

“Unfortunately, I am. Plus, it does look a little bad with us girls hanging out with you. Our husbands all work with Cole at the department, and well, he’s heartbroken over this, Yara. Cole has always been such a stand-up guy. No one understands why you broke his heart like this.”

Then why don’t you marry the man, Lori Peterson?

I huffed, feeling tears burning at the back of my eyes. “He broke mine first.”

“How?” she asked. “He told me you blindsided him with the divorce. He told us he was in therapy and trying, and you didn’t care. You walked away as if he hadn’t given you an amazing life. How do you think that made him feel? You know… I wasn’t going to bring this up, but he mentioned that he feared you might’ve been seeing someone else. Is that true?”

Seeing someone else?

Me?

I laughed. I laughed so hard because I didn’t want to cry. I was stunned by the words she was saying. The lies Cole was spreading. He was making himself out as a good guy, and I turned out to be the story's villain.

“Is that right? Is that what he said?” I asked.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Lori said, shaking her head with a grimaced expression. “He said a lot more than that.” She leaned in and whispered. “Like how you only did missionary. That breaks my heart for him. A man can’t live on missionary alone. They have needs. You could’ve asked me for advice in the bedroom. My Eric and I are quite adventurous.”

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