nice to meet you, too. Thanks for saving me from becoming a wallflower.”
She takes a long sip of her wine, eyeing me over the rim of her glass. And in that moment, as her hazel-colored eyes stay leveled on me, she looks really, really familiar. I don’t know why, though. I’m 99 percent sure I’ve never met her before, and yet something about her tugs at something inside me. Most likely, Karl’s law office did some work for her at one point—which would also explain her weird reaction to my name.
That has to be it—maybe I even validated her parking or helped her with paperwork at one time or another. I dealt with so many clients through the years that they all blend together. God, I hope she didn’t sleep with my husband. That would really be a setback to this whole making-friends thing we have going on. Plus, I really do need a new stylist.
“So,” she says as we both look back toward the women and the jewelry chests. “The skirmishes seem to have died down some.”
“They have,” I agree.
She smiles hesitantly and takes a step closer to the melee. “Want to wade in, see what’s left?”
With visions of my meager bank account floating in my head, I start to tell her to go ahead. But then it hits me just how long it’s been since I bought anything for myself just for fun. At least a year, maybe—probably—more.
Karl was always the one with the expensive tastes. I got his leftovers when it came to things like phones and computers, and as for the rest? I stopped shopping for myself years ago because every time I spent so much as $100, Karl would lambast me about how much money I was spending and how he had to sacrifice because I couldn’t be frugal.
Standing here, I inventory all the stuff my ex bought himself through the years, and just the idea of denying myself anything seems ridiculous. But at the time, I believed him. Every time I tried to argue about anything, he twisted my words and the facts into so many knots that I couldn’t keep my own arguments straight, let alone his.
And even though I knew I was right, it was impossible to argue with him because he would just keep hitting me with half-truths, like why did I need a new dress when I really preferred to skip social functions? I mean, it is true that I don’t enjoy parties. I like trying a new recipe and then curling up on the couch with a glass of wine and the latest show to binge on Netflix. So I would shrug and wear something from my closet instead. But now the blinders are off, and I’m seeing every interaction differently. And myself, too.
Deep down, I know he couldn’t have bullied me if I didn’t let him. There were two in that marriage, and as much as it pains me to admit, someone can only walk all over you if you let them. I traded my agency for a wedding ring the day I agreed I should drop out of law school and help him build his practice instead, agreed it would be harder to get established if one of us didn’t already have a job and less student loans. It all sounded so reasonable at the time. And if Karl was anyone other than the selfish prick he turned out to be, I’d still think it made sense.
But tonight—tonight I’m buying some damn earrings, whether it’s a smart purchase or not. They are freedom earrings, and I need them more than my next breath.
I just hope I survive the jostling mob of earring-starved women. I know exactly how they feel. This is Braveheart-level shit.
Chapter Sixteen
One non-drunk sleep and three brand-new pairs of earrings later, I cleared out the first flight of stairs, ate a killer omelet, and am now checking myself out in the bathroom mirror as I wind my still slightly damp hair up into my usual topknot for my lunch date.
I catch sight of the fun, flirty earrings I bought last night dangling from my ears—the silver chandelier ones with multicolored stones in them—and decide to just give in to the vibe they have going and leave my hair down.
I finally managed to locate the suitcase with my makeup in it earlier that morning—if I’m going on a date with a younger guy in New Jersey, where makeup is practically a religion, I’m doing it fully