Page 85 of Homewrecker

My stomach dropped.

“Don’t.”

“No. We did.”

“Klair.”

“We watched Mama cry over women she pretended didn’t matter.”

“I said don’t.”

“And now you’re one of them.”

I pulled into an empty parking lot because I couldn’t see the road clearly anymore through my tears. Fuck her. Fuck the conversation. Fuck Caleb. Fuck Ravenna. Fuck everybody.

I put the car in park. “That was low.”

“It was true.”

“You don’t think I fucking know that?”

“Then why are you doing it?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

I pressed my fingers against my forehead. “I spent my whole life saying I would never be Mama.”

Klair didn’t say anything.

“And somehow I became the woman doing it to her.”

Every time I allowed myself to think too deeply about what I was doing, I saw Mama. Sitting at the kitchen table. Pretending she didn’t care. Saying Daddy knew where home was. Looking at women like they were the problem because admitting her husband was would require her to do something about it.

I had hated those women. I asked how somebody could knowingly accept pieces of a man. And there I was holding pieces and calling them enough because they felt whole when he was beside me.

“I thought I’d be different,” I whispered.

Klair’s voice softened. “You still can be.”

I closed my eyes. I knew exactly what I should do. That’s the ugly thing about bad decisions. Sometimes you aren’t confused. Sometimes you know exactly where the exit is and don’t take it.

“I love him, Klair.”

She sighed. “I know.”

“He moved out.”

“Blair—”

“I’m not trying to convince you.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

I shut up because she was getting on my fucking nerves with all that accuracy.

“He loves me.”

“You mentioned that.”