Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,93

bump. It seemed like I was pregnant with no visible proof and then POP!

It felt like the baby was using my bladder as a squeeze toy. If this was just six months along, what would I be like at the very end of the pregnancy? Still, deep down I knew I was going to miss these moments. A niggling voice in my head told me to cherish every kick. Every muscle spasm. Every bathroom run. Because I would never have them back.

Ever.

Two tables to my left was Wes’s mother. Every few seconds I could feel her eyes on me. I didn’t look at her once. Unsurprisingly, our relationship had turned sour quickly. Whose side was she going to take in the separation game: that of her daughter-in-law of two and a half years, or her perfect son’s?

I didn’t stand a chance.

But what was shocking is how fast she spread the word. She didn’t live in Falls Church, but that clearly didn’t matter. She was hell-bent on telling the story her way, so that perfect son of hers always had a light shining directly above his head, making his halo sparkle. People ate up her words like vultures, which just goes to show that nothing bands a group of ladies together more than good gossip.

My mother didn’t agree with my decision to get a divorce. Over and over she lamented how I needed to work things out. But she’d be damned if any person outside our family was going to speak ill of her daughter. She told her version to anyone who was willing to listen and she’d always end the conversation with a firm statement: “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Which left most ladies standing there, beet red, embarrassment curling around them.

No, my mother and I would probably never see eye to eye on most things, but this was the closest thing to respect I’d get out of her. Greedily, I took it.

A perfectly polished blond woman stepped up to the podium to speak. We all clapped lightly. She began her speech but I tuned her out. I sipped my water and looked around the room. There was no one there that I really wanted to talk to. Today was a waste. I could leave right then and no one would know I was even gone.

A few minutes later the speech ended. Automatically, I clapped along with everyone else.

Lunch was served directly after. It was nothing but small portions of garden salad, grilled salmon, and asparagus.

The ladies around me cut their salmon in delicate, slow motions. I had to hold myself back from inhaling it all. I finished within minutes and pushed my plate away. Idly, I looked around at the dining room. It was the same old same old.

In the doorway there was a flash of red. I sat up in my seat and craned my neck. It was then that I saw her. We made eye contact. Her eyes widened in shock and then she was gone.

I started in my seat, jarring the table with my knees. My mother said something but I ignored her.

My heart sped up.

It couldn’t be.

Abruptly I stood up.

“Victoria,” my mother said. “What are you—”

“I’ll be right back,” I said distractedly.

As quick as I could, I made my way to the back of the room, my eyes never leaving the brunette. She looked over her shoulder once and when she saw me walking toward her, her eyes widened. She quickened her pace.

I bumped into a woman and then a waiter carrying a tray of champagne, but I never removed my gaze on the woman.

When I exited the dining room, I half-jogged.

“Hey!” I shouted at her retreating figure. “Hey, wait!”

She ran across the front lobby and took a sharp right toward the bathrooms. People turned and stared at the two of us. I didn’t care. I had to speak with her. Before she slipped out the door, I grabbed her arm.

She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around. The woman locked eyes with me. And here she was: the woman from the pictures.

All the air escaped my lungs.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t think.

I couldn’t breathe.

Seeing her in the flesh, our likeness was even more apparent. Her dark hair was swept behind her shoulders. Even her eyes were a bright blue like mine.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

The woman flinched and fidgeted with the strap of her purse. “Melanie.” She lifted her gaze and stared at me with torment in her eyes. She winced as if