Buford jumps up onto her lap, purring his delight at her return home, and she strokes his fur. While her cat isn’t nearly as comforting as her grandmother was, he’s pretty close.
“Why do you watch this?” she can remember asking Grand-mère when she was ten. She was confused by all the rich people, with their perfect makeup and perfect hair, who couldn’t seem to find happiness no matter what they did. “They’re always stabbing each other in the back. They’re nothing like us.”
“They’re very much like us, ma chère.” Her grandmother had motioned for her to get under the blanket, the same one she’d kept on her sofa since Kenzie was born. “The only difference is, they have money.”
“But he’s mean to her.” Kenzie pointed to the screen, where the richest man was saying something callous to the woman who was hoping to be his wife. For the second time. “He’s cruel.”
“Oh, ma petite ange.” Her grandmother pulled her in for a snuggle. “Poor men can be just as cruel. You can get your heart broken by a poor man just as easily as a rich one. We know what it’s like to be poor, oui? There’s no nobility in it. None whatsoever. When you grow up, you find yourself a rich man. You stand a better chance of survival when he leaves.”
Wherever J.R. is right now, he’s probably watching Y&R, too. Sometimes they text back and forth when it’s on. But they haven’t done that in a while. Since she met Derek, J.R. has largely pulled away. It hurts her, but she understands why.
It’s different with Derek. And for once, J.R. isn’t interfering. He used to refer to her other married boyfriends as “sad, bored sacks of money,” but with Derek, he’s largely withheld his opinion. She told J.R. about her new boyfriend a few months back, when they met for a beer in their hometown after she’d visited her mother.
“Who’s the sucker this time?” he’d asked.
When she told him Derek’s name, J.R. was shocked. “The guy who owns the company that makes those protein bars they sell at Safeway? The one whose kid went missing?”
“Same one.”
“Jesus Christ, M.K.,” he said. Everybody in town called him J.R., but he was the only one in the world who called her M.K., and secretly, she’d always loved it. “It’s one thing to scam a dude like Paul—guy was a douchebag from the start, whatever, who gives a shit—but the guy with the missing kid? That’s…”
He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t need to. He was right.
“I know,” she said. “Nothing’s going to happen. He’s too … I don’t know.” Broken was the word that came to mind, but she liked Derek as a person. It felt disloyal to say it out loud.
“He’s grieving,” J.R. said.
They’d sat in silence for a while. She watched as he stared into his beer thoughtfully, wondered if he’d want to have sex later. When he turned her down—gently, but still—she kicked herself for continuing to try with him when all J.R. did was remind her that she was never going to be the one.
Her grand-mère had been right. Might as well get your heart broken by a rich man.
Kenzie’s had her heart broken twice. The first time was the day her father walked out on her mother, when Kenzie was only twelve. He left them for a woman half his age. Her mother, who hadn’t worked since Kenzie was born, was forced to take a job she hated. In a small town, job prospects were scarce, and she ended up working as a night cleaner for several local businesses.
Kenzie’s father died of a heart attack two years ago. She found out through Facebook, when her estranged aunt shared the announcement her “stepmother” had posted, along with details of the memorial service. Kenzie did not attend. She’d said her goodbyes a long time ago.
The second heartbreak was J.R. He was never her boyfriend, but he was her first love, a guy from her hometown whose family knew her family. They hooked up the summer before she left for college. She lost her virginity to him on a blanket on the grass by the river, under the stars, and it was every bit as fucking romantic as a country song.
“Am I going to see you again?” she’d asked him afterward, as she pulled her underwear and shorts back on. She felt sore, but in a good way, an adult way. There was a light breeze fluttering the