Page 33 of Bad Love

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This morning,I dropped Rory at Bumblebee Childcare, his before- and after-school care, after enjoying breakfast with my son and listening to him debate the merits of the baked versus fried egg the way another kid might talk about their favoritecartoons.

My meeting schedule today is light—just a couple of phone calls—which lets me indulge in a rare and beautifulritual…

Working fromhome.

No tailoredclothes.

Yoga pants and a vintage Heart T-shirt I found at Goodwill years ago and am more obsessed with than anything from BananaRepublic.

I even took three minutes to French braid my hair down each side, something I used to do in school that gives the tactile part of my brain a littlethrill.

I have nothing against dressing like a professional, but once in a while, it feels downright luxurious to wear fabrics that stretch on aweekday.

By the end of the day, I get through almost all of my scheduled client work. I feel capable. As if, for once, I’m checking all the boxes, not racing through life with the feeling I’ve missedsomething.

Of course, that’s when an email popsup.

Nadine.

I click open the list of jobs for the talent show. Each bulleted line has my stomachsinking.

I legitimately want to contribute to this committee. But now that I’ve taken on the new gig, I'mslammed.

I was really hoping to pick something straightforward, like posters. One of the women I work with at a nearby creative agency would probably mock something up as a personalfavor.

But guilt streaks through me as I play with the hem of my T-shirt.

This is important to the kids. Maybe not enough to warrant the “Leaders of Tomorrow” theme that’s apparently been voted in. But these moments do matter in our kids’lives.

With that thought, I put my name next to the most substantive thing I can find—ticketsales.

Then I hit Reply with aflourish.

There. I’m a badass. Nadine, eat your heartout.

Besides, selling things is what I do. How hard will it be to fill an auditorium with parents of kids who’re on stageanyway?

I shut the laptop, knowing I’ll log on again later. I'm waiting to hear back from some contacts so I can do more worktonight.

Because I, Kendall Sullivan, spent hours of my day looking at sextoys.

There are tons on the company website, and after looking at just a few, I was blushing so hard I had to talk myselfdown.

“You’re a grown woman, Kendall. Just because you’ve never stopped to think about how to elevate your sex life with motors and silicone doesn’t mean you aren’t completely capable ofthis.”

Daisy is right. It’s only business. I can impersonalizethis.

Now, I’ve looked at the dimensions, materials, and reviews of toys of every color and size. I’ve soaked in the curvy contours of a dozenstyles.

And I’m still here. Stillme.

I feel like a rebel. Abadass.

On impulse, I turn onmusic.

Do a littlespin.

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