Page 10 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
In case you didn’t know, Jase is Jason. Kate’s ex-husband. “You divorced him a year ago, yet he still lives with you. Do you really think you’re one to be handing out judgments on good and bad decisions?”
Kate narrows her eyes at me and tightens the leash around her dog Miley’s neck. Given the chance, Miley will run away. I can’t say I blame the dog with what goes on in her household every day. I’d run away too. “Don’t follow in my footsteps, obviously. If you divorce him, then kick him out of the house.”
I stare at the stroller in front of me that I’m attempting to strap my babies into. The thought of leaving Noah sends my heart racing and anxiety rushing through me. “I’m not saying I’m going to divorce him.”
Kate looks over at Bonner’s garage, where my husband and her ex are drinking and laughing. I sigh. There’s not much else to do when I step outside with my roaming pack of children and see my husband drinking in our neighbor’s garage. Although, I have no idea where Oliver is. Helicopter mom? Not me.
Never mind the fact that the house is a disaster. I didn’t do the dishes all day and now it looks something likeAmerica’s Top Cheffilmed in my kitchen but didn’t leave any of the amazing food, just the mess.
And I’m so exhausted, I haven’t even bothered to get dressed yet today. I’m still wearing the leggings I wore to bed last night and only took off for what, ten minutes in the pantry earlier today?
Kate and I are standing in my driveway trying to get Sevi and Finley in the stroller only Oliver knows how to work. “Why are these fucking things so complicated? It’s like they didn’t take into consideration you’re usually holding a child while trying to get one in it.”
With a glass of wine in one hand and a dog leash securely in the other, Kate shrugs. “When my kids were young, we didn’t use strollers.”
“Your twins are eleven. Pretty sure you’re lying.”
“True. But we didn’t use them because the little assholes wouldn’t sit still. Try wrangling two toddler boys. That’s like having two of Sevi.”
Sevi, who’s standing beside me staring at Kate’s dog, probably taking mental notes to perfect his techniques on being a dog, glances up at Kate when she says his name. And then he licks her leg.
Kate’s eyes slide to mine. “He’s still in the dog phase?”
“I’m not sure you can call it a phase if it’s lasted an entire year.”
She laughs and discreetly wipes my son’s spit from her leg. At the lack of tension on the leash of the real dog, Miley gets away from Kate.
Kate has to chase her a half mile up the road and the only reason she catches the dog is because it runs straight to Ashlynn when she’s headed home from her run. Have you seen Baywatch with Pamala Anderson back in the day when she was with Tommy Lee? I know, it’s a dated TV show, but that’s exactly what Ashlynn reminds me of. Blonde hair, big tits, even Sevi drools over…. And when she runs, it looks like she’s running in slow motion and her perfect tits don’t even move. They stay in one spot. Who knew that could happen past thirteen? Apparently, when they’re fake, it’s a possibility.
“Is my dog a lesbian?” Kate asks, out of breath and holding her side like she’s dying for air.
“Why would you think that?” I snort and continue buckling Sevi in, who is now attempting to bite me for strapping him down.
“Because the little bitch ran right toward a woman like she was ready to hump her.” She points to her yellow lab that’s panting and staring down Ashlynn like she’s gonna make friends with her legs.
“What’s a lesbian?” Hazel asks, slurping on her third juice box of the night. I really need to put them up higher on the shelf.
“No more juice boxes tonight, Hazel. Drink water.”
She pouts and takes a big pull from the straw. When she swallows, she smiles. “I don’t like water. It tastes so plain.”
I take the container from her before she tosses it on the ground. My kids never pick up after themselves. I know, it’s awful. “But it’s good for you.”
Ashlynn approaches, her skin glowing under the pink California sunset. Hazel notices. “She has pretty skin.”
“She drinks water,” I whisper, smiling. “Lots of it. And never juice.”
Hazel glances up at me, pushing her curls from her face. Freckles mark her cute little nose and her bright blue eyes that look exactly like Noah’s. “You’re just saying that to get me to drink water, aren’t you?”
“Yep. Did it work?”
“Kinda.”
“Water is good for your skin, girlie. Drink up.”
Hazel sighs and reaches for her water bottle. You know, the one she insisted she have from Starbucks that costs twice as much as needed because it says the name on the side.
When I said I didn’t have a tribe besides my kids, that was somewhat of a lie. I do have a tribe if you call the girls in my neighborhood a tribe. I can’t say we’re BFFs, but I suppose if I had to bury a body, they’d totally help a girl out.
