Page 35 of F*ck Marriage

“What?” I’m still watching Satcher’s back.

“My best friend and my ex-wife…”

My attention snaps back to Woods and I want to laugh—I do. I am so far from Satcher’s type it is upsetting to think about. I almost correct him and then think better of it. Let Woods think there is something going on between me and Sasquatch. I raise my eyebrows in a what-in-the-worldway.

Woods sighs. “I better get to work.”

I start to walk away and he calls after me.

“Hey, Billie!”

“Yeah.”

“You look ... great.”

I suppress my smile. “Thanks. You too.” And then it takes everything in me to walk away. I can feel his eyes roving ... roving, but I keep walking. Slow and steady wins the race.

Chapter Sixteen

Icatch the red-eye to San Francisco alone. Everyone else flew out yesterday, but we are launching the newly branded F*ck Marriage next week, and I still have to finalize a lot of the details with Dave, who stayed behind to keep things running. Now with an hour to go before the luncheon, the first of the events, I have clothes strewn all over the hotel bed and zit cream on my chin. What are the chances I have a huge event and get a zit for the first time in two years? I glance at my outfit options for the day.

I selectively packed things from Jules’ closet, knowing I’d have to wear them since they were all I brought. Now, looking down at the tight black pants with a sheen that makes them look oil-slicked, I feel a wave of apprehension. Maybe this isn’t me. I pull them on anyway, despite my loud inner protesting, and put on the emerald green halter top I brought to pair it with. I look good. Really good. But not like me.

Something about having your heart broken and getting divorced gives you a raw sort of edge. I feel like Sandy inGreasewhen she dons her leather pants and fuck-me heels and goes to reclaim Danny with her new attitude. This is who I am on the inside, and it will just take a little practice to get comfortable expressing it with my (Jules’) wardrobe.

An hour later when I walk into the luncheon, I know I’ve made the right decision. The vendors greet me with happy surprise and several of the other bloggers run up to welcome me back and to tell me I look great. I’m riding high on all of the affirmation when I grab my first mimosa from a serving tray and make my way over to one of my old blogger friends, Annalise. She yells in excitement when she sees me. We remove ourselves from the bustle to talk, standing next to the drink table where I pluck another mimosa from the tray.

“It wasn’t the same when you left. Satcher did a great job holding things together, but I assume he brought you back for a reason.” This from Annalise; she started the Fab, Fit, Five blog around the same time I launched Rhubarb. She has five kids, all of them blonde and blue-eyed, and her blog is basically a recipe for depression if you’re not a size two, don’t breastfeed for a year, and throw peanut butter and jelly into a paper sack instead of making healthy gourmet school lunches.

“I assume so too,” I say, noting that Annalise has a new, upgraded engagement ring on her finger. Goodbye to humble beginnings. Her husband, Ned, is a developer. He recently built them a new mansion, which Annalise posts regularly on the blog’s decorating section. Despite my stint with depression when I was in Washington, I always kept up with what Fab, Fit, Five was doing; there’s something endearing about Annalise, right down to the way her finger and toenails always match her lipstick.

Once we’re done covering business, she lowers her voice considerably and asks, “So how has it been working with Pearl?”

If Annalise ever swore, I imagine the offensive word would be said in the same tone she says Pearl’s name.

We both look up at the same time to where Pearl is arm in arm with Woods, talking to a vendor. She has chosen a white ensemble—probably to remind everyone of her upcoming wedding— with teal heels and a chunky gold chain around her neck. Her diamond ring can be seen clear across the room.

“Ow-ow,” Annalise says. “Her bling is blinding me.” Annalise’s ring can rival Pearl’s, but I appreciate the support.

“You don’t need a ring like that when you start out,” she says. “You earn the larger carats by being married and having to put up with their bullshit.”

I laugh. “You cussed!”

She blushes. “Yeah, sorry. I just get worked up sometimes. And there’s always been something about you that makes me feel free to say what I want.”

“Ha!”

“He still loves you, you know.” She looks at me sideways, a slight brightening of her eyes. “See, there I go again…”

“Woods?” I ask, surprised.

“Who else, dummy? He can’t keep his eyes off of you.”

I follow Annalise’s gaze to where Woods and Pearl are, and true enough, his eyes are trained on me. It both thrills and mortifies me—him being with Pearl and watching me so blatantly.

“He’s a cheater,” I say. “Maybe he’s bored with Pearl and remembers how flexible I am.”

Annalise lets out a chortling laugh that draws the eyes of several bystanders. She covers her ruby red lips with a hand and makes surprised eyes at me. I laugh because her eyes are alreadysobig.

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