They both groan in disgust. “What the fuck are you doing with him?” Aaron winces.
I sip my beer with an eye roll and shrug. “Who knows?”
They both chuckle.
“Well, all I want is some good sex.” Molly sighs. “Every time I see someone I’m attracted to, I’m with the kids. So then I can’t act on it.”
I frown. “You wouldn’t introduce anyone to your kids?”
“No. My God, they make their father’s life hell with his new girlfriend.”
Aaron laughs as if remembering something.
“What?” I ask.
Molly smirks. “My children are so fucking naughty you wouldn’t even believe.”
I giggle. “How old are they?”
“Mischa is thirteen, and Brad is fifteen,” she replies. “They’ve decided between the two of them that they are going to make life a living hell for their father and me unless we get back together.”
“How so?” I laugh.
“Brad has been suspended from school twice this year, and now Mischa is going off the rails too. A few weekends ago they each had a friend stay over at their father’s while he and his girlfriend went out to dinner.”
I frown as I listen.
“They got drunk from his bar and cut the crotches out of all of his girlfriend’s underwear.”
Aaron laughs, and my eyes widen in horror.
“And”—she sips her drink—“when their father asked them about it, they said that the underpants had rotted because her vagina was contaminated.”
I burst out laughing. “No.”
She shakes her head in disgust. “I wish I was joking.”
Aaron throws his head back and laughs. “I fucking love your kids, man. That’s a classic.”
“No, it’s a nightmare,” she replies flatly.
“Why did you divorce him?” I ask.
“You know, I don’t actually know.” She thinks for a moment. “We just kind of lost our way. We were both working so hard, so we were always too tired for sex. We had two kids and a mortgage.” She shrugs. “We never went on date nights or made an effort for each other. I don’t have a precise moment that we knew it was over. We just kind of fell apart.”
“That’s sad.” I sigh.
“He met someone else at work, and he talked to me about it. Nothing had happened at that stage, and he said he told me because he wanted to fight for us to get back what we once had.”
“You didn’t fight?” I ask.
“No,” she says sadly. “And neither did he. We just kind of walked away from each other. It was all too hard at the time.” She thinks for a moment. “I regret it now. He’s a great man. And in hindsight, I think a lot of the problems we had just come from getting older. Sex drive is something you both need to work at, but we didn’t realize that until it was too late.” She smiles softly. “We’re great friends now.”
Hmm. We all fall silent.
“Lucky you’ve got those kids to cut up your competition’s underwear.” Aaron smiles.
We all laugh out loud. “Contaminated vagina. Where do they come up with this shit?”
I hold the black dress up against my body and stare at my reflection in the mirror. Hmm. I throw it and the coat hanger it’s on onto the bed. I grab the gray skirt and jacket and hold it up to myself.
Maybe black?
Shit. What the hell do you wear when you want to be sexy without trying to look sexy? It’s just now eleven o’clock, and I’m deciding what to wear to my meeting with Mr. Miles in the morning. What does he want to see me about anyway?
I think I’ll go with the black dress. I lay it out on the chair. I pick up my patent leather pumps and put them on the floor under the dress. What earrings? Hmm. I twist my lips as I think. Pearls. Yes, pearls don’t scream fuck me like the gold ones do. Pearls are sensible working earrings.
Right.
I’ll wash my hair and curl it in the morning. I look at my reflection and hold my hair up in a high ponytail. Yes . . . high ponytail. He likes high ponytails. Stop it.
I sit on the end of my bed and look around my little apartment. It’s one bedroom and on the thirtieth floor—tiny and quaint. It is modern, though, and is in a nice building. It’s different from what I’m used to; this New York–living thing is all so foreign, living alone and drinks and places to go on a Monday night. I pick up my phone and flick through my messages. My three best girlfriends all messaged me tonight to see how my day was. So did my mom. Robbie didn’t.