Page 1 of Witchy Chick

one

. . .

Catherine smiled at me, but it was a professional smile that didn’t meet her eyes. She’d always been cautious about showing her feelings, but that’s what you get when you’re the kid of a con artist, who finally got dropped into foster care too late to learn to trust.

But that was a long time ago. I smiled at her in return, passing her the sugar over the acrylic coffeeshop table while I skipped the sweetener in my own decaf green tea. I sipped it, ignoring the bitterness. “How is Gloria? I haven’t talked to her in ages.”

The blonde hesitated before she continued pulling a tablet out of her briefcase. She had a briefcase these days and looked quite professional in her sensible gray jacket and slacks. “She’s having a baby.”

I blanched, because the idea of the most flaky, alcoholic fortune-teller in the world having a child was enough to give me heart palpitations. I swallowed hard and held onto my smile. “That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for her. Who’s is the lucky guy? Did she just…” Spontaneously impregnate?

She laughed softly and shook her head. “You haven’t met her husband? She hasn’t mentioned him to you?”

I blinked at her. The idea that Gloria had actually gotten married was another shock. “No. She didn’t invite me to the wedding, either.” I hadn’t invited her to mine, but it was at the courthouse, and I’d sent her a Christmas card every year for fifteen years. She couldn’t be bothered to tell me she was getting married and having a baby?

Catherine pressed her lips together before giving me another strained smile. “I shouldn’t have said anything, but they’re very happy, however unconventional their relationship is.” Her eyes were cautious, guarded, but also sad. She had bad news for me.

Well, that was why we were there. I’d hired her to prove my suspicions one way or another. But we had to cover polite gossip of our fellow foster siblings first, however tense my hands were as I gripped my tea. “Unconventional? Of course it’s unconventional. It’s Gloria. When has she ever done a conventional thing in her life? It’s like she’s allergic to the idea of doing something sensible for a change.” I shouldn’t have said that. It sounded judgmental and unkind, which my daughter pointed out to me all the time, because she could be the same way. I was trying to be more sensitive, but it wasn’t easy when some people… Deep breath. Also, the idea that Gloria, the flakiest commitment-phobe could find a man who loved her and was faithful to her, while I…

She studied me, waiting until I had myself under control before she pulled out the tablet and turned it on, sliding it across the table.

It was time to face reality, however much I wanted to throw up all my decaf green tea. I needed ice cream to cushion a blow like this.

I zoomed in on the first photograph of a tall, blond man with a muscular build, lean but still broad-shouldered and clearly fit, helping a dark-haired woman out of a car. Car? That was a ridiculously expensive sedan I would never get because it didn’t indicate the level of commitment to family and children one should show. It also screamed money and flaunting it. One should never flaunt one’s wealth. It was bad manners. Not as bad as going out with someone else’s husband, but what was?

I scrolled to the next photo, where they were arm-in-arm as they walked across the lobby of a very expensive hotel. In the next photo, they were sitting at a small table in an intimate corner, and he was kissing her hand. In the next, he was leaning against a wall above her, while her own lips were raised to his. A kiss.

I scrolled for a long time, every photo more intimate, more shocking, until the last one of the actual hotel room and them kissing in bed sans clothing.

I slid the device over to her across the table. “Well done. I’ll send your payment by tomorrow.” I stood up, stomach tied into a million knots, but at the same time, at least the suspense was over. My suspicions were confirmed instead of hanging over me like a specter. Now I felt like a ghost, leaving my body and everything I’d loved far behind.

My husband of sixteen years was officially having an affair.

“You don’t way to stay and talk about it?” Catherine asked, voice concerned as I got my things together.

“Oh, no. I have an appointment with my realtor, and then of course there’s the lawyer. And I’ll have to stop at the bank and move some funds into a private account. And then there’s the packing.”

She stared at me. “Realtor? You’re selling your house?”

“Of course. We bought it when I was pregnant with Sage. That’s long enough to own a house.”

“Yes, but don’t you think you should talk to him about it first?”

I stared at her while my stomach’s knots tied into knots and my heart twisted, hard, pain sharp like I was having a heart attack. My husband was cheating on me, had been cheating on me for at least a year. What was there to talk about?

“His lawyer will let my lawyer know what he has to say.”

“I’m not sure it’s legal to sell your house without his consent.”

“Then he should be here to give his consent instead of at a ‘business meeting’ with his girlfriend. You’ve known me for a long time. I’m not one to waste time.”

“Right, but⁠—”

I left her, walking briskly across the salmon-and-green tile, my respectable kitten heels clicking like I knew where I was going. The thing was, the woman in the photos didn’t seem much younger than me. I’d married my husband when I was still in college, even though I hadn’t been interested in dating, even though I’d made it difficult for him to talk to me, much less get a date. Maybe he’d just liked the conquest. And then I got pregnant with Sage, and we got married. I’d known I should wait until after college to have a serious relationship, if ever. That’s what you get when you let your heart rule your head.

I texted Sage.

You’ll need to watch the twins when you get home.