Page 36 of Better Daddy

She snorts. “Yeah, you are. But why are you avoiding?”

Hmm, let’s see. Because I liked the way my husband looked at me yesterday when he picked me up from work. And I like that he always comes inside to get me. That rather than just calling to tell me he’s in the garage, he parks and takes the elevator up, even knowing he’ll have to deal with not only the receptionist but Julius, who gives him constant shit, just so he can walk me down to the car. It’s…sweet.

Which is pathetic.

Such a simple gesture shouldn’t make me weak in the damn knees. But God, does it ever. Even now, just thinking about it makes my legs wobbly. So I drop to the scuffed beige floor and sit crisscross, ignoring the silk flower debris and glitter I know will stick to my pants when I find the energy to get up again.

“The anniversary was five years ago, by the way.”

Lo’s eyes soften. “You had a one-year-old. Sully had just made partner.”

I nod. Yes. While I spent my days changing diapers, Sully made partner. He chased all his dreams, while mine became more like distant thoughts. That’s about the time I realized I was no longer even a part of his dreams anymore. I was on the sidelines and he was out living his life.

At least that’s how it felt.

“There will always be something, Lo. Another big case, anothermilestone to work toward. That’s the problem. When our tenth anniversary hit, we didn’t even have a conversation about it. There was nooh, we’ll go eventually. Our plans turned into yet another discarded dream. Tossed aside, forgotten.” I sigh. “Kind of like me.”

Lo shakes her head. “Nope. We’re not doing this. Yes, Sully sucked. But that’s not why you’re hiding.” She brings the phone closer to her face, glaring. “You’re hiding because youwantto go on this date with him, and that scares you.”

I sniff and look away, surveying the shower curtain options again. She’s right, but no one likes a braggart.

The growly voice he used when Will insinuated that he wouldn’t be coming to the Christmas party almost did me in. The deep, commanding way he saidmy wife.

As I replay the moment, my pussy flutters to life like she’s hearing it again for the first time, and I clamp my slutty legs together.

“Actually, I don’t. It’s the opposite, really. Everyone at my firm knows we’re separated. Hell, half the legal community does, I’m sure. The last thing I want is to show up at the event with my ex and deal with all the staring.”

“Oh,” she huffs, “so you’d rather deal with being stared at while everyone you encounter wonders whose baby is in your belly?”

A shocked gasp escapes me. “Are you telling me I’m showing? Oh my god.” I tuck my chin and assess my stomach. Sure, I’ve got a little pooch, but I figured it looked more like I’d had a big lunch than anything. Although really, what’s worse? Rumors that I’ve gained weight because I can’t stop snacking or rumors that I’m pregnant with my ex’s child?

Honestly, I don’t know.

“You’re pregnant, Sloane. Eventually, the truth will come out. And you’ll be what, twelve weeks by the time the party rolls around?”

I groan. She’s right. “I don’t think I should go.”

“No, you are definitely going.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re determined to choose yourself for once, remember? You are no longer letting a man—anyman—control you. You’re in charge of creating your own happiness, and you get to choose what you go after.”

When she puts it like that?—

“You’ve wanted to return to litigation, not just desk work, for years,” she continues before I can respond to her. “And this Christmas party is a big deal. It’s where you can finally show your peers just how great you’re doing. You are a professional, and being pregnant doesn’t mean you aren’t just as competent as your colleagues. You can do it all. You can have it all. Because you are amazing.”

“I am amazing,” I whisper-hiss, bringing my phone closer.

“Though maybe you’d be more amazing if you weren’t sitting on the floor in HomeGoods.”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Pick yourself up,dust yourself off, and go to Neiman Marcus. Buy yourself a gorgeous dress—using your husband’s black card, of course—and enjoy what you’ve worked your ass off for. Stun the shit out of that man the night of the party. Remind him of just how incredible you are.”

“Or,” I say, my heart thumping, “I can buy the dress and walk into that party with my head held highwithoutSully.”

Her face falls. “What?”