Page 22 of This Life of Mine

“We’re counting down the weeks now.”

Her hand glides back and forth over her stomach as her eyes sweep over me. Assessing. Comparing. Competing.

Most people wouldn’t notice. I do. Now that I know what kind of person she is. Cassie had always treated every woman like a rival.

“I hope we’ve all moved on from the past.”

I nearly laugh.

“I’m not interested in the past.”

Her smile tightens. “I’d really love for us to be friends.”

Friends. I’d rather wrestle a cactus.

“Is that right?” I say, searching the store for Val.

“Oh, I think it would be great for the family to see us be cordial,” she states, continuing to rub her belly.

The fake sweetness is becoming physically painful to endure.

“We’re so very happy.” She continues. “Cole can’t wait forherto get here.”

There it is. The reason for the conversation. Validation. A baby girl.

“Can you believe I’m going to be a mommy again?”

The words hit somewhere deep. But it’s unrelated to Cole.

Fuck Cole. Cassie can keep him. Marry him. Frame him. Whatever makes her happy.

What this is truly about, is that once upon a time I was pregnant too. Once upon a time, I was carrying our child. I was going to be a mommy.

I was so excited about becoming a mother. I didn’t care about what I was going through with Cole. I had hoped my bundle of joy would be what made everything I endured worth it.

Cole never really cared about me while I was pregnant. I was a nuisance then. So it’s hard to imagine Cole is excited about Cassie being pregnant when he’s known to become less attracted to the woman carrying his child.

Cassie may be lying, or maybe she’s telling the truth. Who really knows. It’s hard to believe her when Cole has been contacting me non-stop.

Texting. Calling. Leaving voicemails. Week after week. As though he can’t decide whether he wants to marry Cassie or keep haunting me. Hell maybe both.

“We already have the nursery finished,” she continues.

How efficient.

“The wedding is next month.”

How fortunate.

“We’ve never been happier,” she states, as she throws her hair behind her shoulders.

How exhausting.

I study her as every fiber of my being simmers with anger.

I’m not angry about her being pregnant with Coles baby, or marrying him. I’m angry because I know she’s fucking fake. Fake to her core.

She’s standing here trying to show off like she won the greatest prize. Won what? A life of misery?