Picking up the Tupperware containers, I move them to the end of the table before squatting down to reach into a box underneath to grab the pack of napkins.
“Oh, my fucking God,” Lola groans around a mouthful of chocolate mint cake. “It’s like heaven has visited my mouth.”
Lara Sparks and Melanie Trundle turn to glare at her as I rise and rip open the packet. I bite my lip, trying to stop the laugh from escaping. Lola notices and bugs her eyes out at them. “What?” she snaps. “There’s no kids out here yet.” She busies herself with separating some paper plates. “Give me a fucking break,” she mutters under her breath.
“I wonder if Fiona will come,” I hear Lara whisper, not very quietly, to Melanie a few minutes later.
“Ha! I doubt it. I mean, could you even imagine showing your face after that? God, I’d just die,” Melanie declares rather dramatically.
A disbelieving laugh finally escapes my mouth, and Melanie turns to glare over at me. “Something funny, Dahlia?” she snaps.
My shoulders lift. “Oh, no. Just that I remember you didn’t seem to like it very much when everyone was talking about your husband’s affair with your nanny.” I tap my chin. “What was she? French? Seventeen?”
Lola gasps theatrically. “Yes, I remember that.” She turns to Melanie. “Quite the scandal, wasn’t it?”
Melanie looks like she’s about to throw the bottle of juice she’s holding in a death grip at our heads.
Lara clears her throat. “Yes, that was ah, interesting.” She changes the subject back to Fiona. “How’s she doing, though? She’d be heartbroken,” she says with forced gentleness.
I shrug again. “She’s doing as well as can be expected.”
But to be honest, I don’t actually know. I sent her a text yesterday, which she didn’t return. I’ll have to call her if she doesn’t show today. But when I glance up a moment later, there she is, strutting over to us in her … sweatpants, tank, and cardigan. Oh, shit. She normally wouldn’t be caught dead in sweatpants, not even in her own house. I share a worried look with Lola quickly before Fiona arrives at the table and says, “Well, I’m here. Where do you want me?”
Melanie clears her throat delicately. “Did you bring anything?”
Fiona lifts her sunglasses to her head to give her the full power of her green-eyed glare. “Does it look like I did? Christ, you bitches are lucky I even showed up.” She walks around the table to join Lola and me while Melanie and Lara stand there gaping at her.
“You okay?” I whisper then wince. “Stupid question, sorry.”
She shakes her head; her brown hair pulled back into a messy bun that bobs around with the movement. “I’m fine.” She grabs a cupcake and shoves half of it in her mouth then picks up a piece of caramel cake. “Holy fuck. I feel like I haven’t eaten in years,” She moans around the chocolate filling her mouth.
“Didn’t you say you were gluten intolerant?” Lola asks her.
Fiona throws her head back with a loud laugh, her teeth covered in cake. “Yes, what bullshit. Just another way to say no to carbs.” She rolls her eyes and snatches the juice from a still gaping Melanie before pouring herself a large cup full and draining it in three gulps.
“God, that shit would taste amazing with some vodka.” She goes to grab what looks like a flask out of her purse that’s still hanging over her shoulder. Lola grabs her arm and tugs her over to a box of custard tarts. “Could you help me put these out? Your eye for decorating has always been so much better than mine.”
Fiona huffs. “Oh, fine.” Then gets to work unpacking them and spreading them out over some trays just as the recess bell rings and the kids start racing out into the quad.
“Here they come,” Lola mutters, snapping some gloves on and mentally preparing herself. Laughing, I do the same. We spend the next fifteen minutes selling almost everything to the children and teachers alike.
“Hi, Mommy,” Greta sings, coming around the table to wrap her arms around my waist.
I take my gloves off to quickly fix her ponytail that’s come loose.
“How’s your day been? Have you seen your brother?” I ask.
“He’s right here.” Sophie giggles and I glance over to find Charlie busily sampling some of the treats still left on the table.
“Charlie!” I hiss. “We need to pay for them.”
He glances up at me, chocolate coating his lips. “But you made some of them,” he mumbles around the food then licks his fingers before going for another slice. Lola laughs as I swat his hand away and grab a slice with a napkin, passing it over to him. He gives me a chocolate-tooth-coated grin before running off to join his friends. I reach down underneath the table to grab a ten dollar bill from my purse and toss it in the ice-cream bucket.
“Where are Rupert and Henry?” Lola asks Fiona who’s just returned from the bathroom, looking a little happier.
She waves her hand around. “Who knows. Their father dropped them off this morning.”
My brows tug in. “Isn’t he still staying at the hotel, though?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, he kept them there overnight. Says he doesn’t trust me with them anymore.” She shrugs. “Whatever that means.”
“Shit, he can’t just do that,” Lola says, turning to me. “Can he?”
Wow. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
I look over at the playground as everyone starts packing up. I notice Rupert and Henry with Charlie and Sophie over by the trees. The boys look okay, but wouldn’t they want to come over and get a treat? Or say hi to their mom? I shake my head, not knowing the finer details, so it’s pointless to try to understand the situation. I should know that better than anyone.
After handing the Tupperware containers back to everyone, I take the bag of trash over to the dumpster by the side of the school before going to say goodbye to the kids then Fiona and Lola.
“You ladies want to go out? It’s Friday. Let’s shake what our mamas gave us before they get old and saggy …” Fiona brushes some chocolate off her fingers. “Or fat.”
Lola sighs. “While that sounds like fun, I’m pooped. I’ve got some work I still need to catch up on this weekend and having a hangover will make that impossible.”
Fiona’s gaze falls on me. “What about you, Lia? Feel like a bit of fun?” She shakes her ass for good measure.
I smirk. “No can do, sorry. Leo’s going out to dinner with a client tonight, and I have no idea when he’ll be home. It’s too late notice for the sitter.”
She pouts. “You guys suck. Oh well, I’ll just have to grab a bottle of wine on the way home … or three.” She laughs loudly.
We force a laugh, too. “Yeah, just be careful. Call me if you need anything, ‘kay?” I remind her.
She nods. “I’ll be fine. Seriously, I feel free for the first time in years.”
We say goodbye, and I make the short drive home. I’m just pulling into the garage when my phone rings from my bag. I lean over and dig it out, my stomach flipping at the sight of Jared’s name on the screen.
I hit answer and climb out of the car. “Hello?” I say while shutting the door then almost tripping at the sound of his husky voice as I walk inside.
“Hey, Blondie.”
I’m tempted to ask where he’s been, why he didn’t show up on Tuesday, and why he hasn’t gotten back to me until now, but I stop myself because even with the questions begging to be unleashed, he’s not mine to worry about like that.
“How’ve you been? Didn’t see you on Tuesday.” I dump my purse on the counter and walk into the living room, falling back on the couch.
“Yeah, had some shit I had to do, and I wasn’t sure if …” He pauses.
“What?” I ask, probably too quickly.
“Nothing. I just didn’t want to cause you any more trouble. But it seems like I just can’t help myself, not when it comes to you.”
I remain quiet, hardly breathing.
“I know you’re married. I saw it with my own two eyes. But I can’t … you’re kind of all I think about, Dahlia.”
The use of my real name is what jars me the most out of that admission.
“I’m sorry, trouble. I didn’t mean for that to happen, for any of this to happen. But you’ve shown me what it’s like to be wanted again, and as bad as this sounds, it’s a feeling I’ve come to crave. But that doesn’t mean …” I startle as the front door opens and slams closed. I panic, hanging up the phone and turning around just as Leo walks by and I hear him lock himself in his office.
“Fuck,” I whisper, holding a hand to my chest, trying to get my heart rate to slow. What the hell is he doing home?
My gut tightens. Frustration and confusion have me rising from the couch. This is all becoming too much.
I walk down the hall and go to swing open the doors to his office, but he’s locked them. What the …?
“Leo.” I bang my fist on the wood. “What are you doing home?”
He doesn’t answer me, but I hear him curse and something smash on the other side, causing me to jump backward.
I wait a minute then two until I hesitantly knock again. “Is everything okay?” I ask through the door.
“Go away, Dahlia,” he growls.
“No, not until you tell me what’s going on,” I demand. “Are you okay?”
He laughs sardonically but doesn’t answer.
And still, I wait.
“Jesus, just leave me the fuck alone.” His tone quietens.
Tears prick at my eyes as I back away from the doors, not knowing what to do. I scrub my palms over my face and take a deep breath before grabbing my phone and walking upstairs to lay on our bed.
My phone chirps with a text, probably Jared. I contemplate ignoring it, then grab it and look anyway.
Jared: What happened? Call me back.
Me: Leo’s home. I’ll see you on Tuesday.
I drop my phone onto the nightstand and stare off at the wall for a while. He doesn’t write back, and I tell myself to be glad for it. I feel myself creeping closer to the edge of something. Maybe it’s the tentative hold I’ve been keeping on my sanity or on my heart. I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s dried the tears from my eyes and left me feeling strangely vacant inside. As if my reasons for giving a shit are slowly drying out like the autumn leaves scattering in the wind outside the bedroom window. Just one step, one wrong move, and the remains of my heart might crack and splinter into irreparable fragments.