Chapter One
Becca Stillwell sighed as she gripped the handle of her grocery cart. Her gaze shifted right and left. This was her life: shuffling through a fluorescent lit aisle of bread, agonizing over regular wheat or one hundred percent wheat. What was the difference again, anyway? she thought. Hadn’t her mom gone on and on about it having to say something specific in the ingredients? She scanned the small writing on the back of the package in her hands again. It all looked the same to her. “Screw it,” she muttered under her breath and threw the loaf that was twenty-five cents cheaper into her cart.
It was late Thursday morning; Becca always did the family’s shopping before heading in to work her four-hour shift at Novel Idea, the small used bookstore located on Main Street in the center of town. At least, she’d always done it since moving back to her childhood home in Snowy Ridge, Wisconsin three months ago. Her mother often reminded her that it was the least she could do since they were paying for a roof over her head. Secretly, she was sure her mother loved saying that. Like, she had some great big thing to hold over Becca’s head. All different ways of reminding her that she was a failure and she failed at marriage. Not that her mom would ever consider that the dissolution of her marriage could fall squarely on the shoulders of Becca’s loser of an ex-husband. No, no, her mom thought there was nothing so bad that a marriage should end in a divorce. Married couples must work out whatever problems they have. They don’t divorce. But Becca did.
It wasn’t that Becca minded doing the shopping; okay, she minded a bit. It was just that every single time she walked into the tiny grocery store, the only one in her small home town with a population of one thousand, she ran into people she knew from growing up. It was unavoidable. Half of the cashiers had been working at Dillon’s Market for over twenty-five years. They remembered Becca when she was a snotty fifteen-year-old bagging groceries after school and on weekends. They’d never said anything mean to Becca’s face. The Snowy Ridge people were the politest you’d ever meet. To your face, anyway. Behind your back, they were as gossipy as they come; and, she was sure the old employees talked about her around the ancient Formica table in the breakroom. She could practically feel their self-riotous, smug glares burrowing into the back of her head as she moved throughout the store.
Becca tossed a container of all-natural peanut butter into her cart and rounded the corner into the cereal aisle. What was that cereal her mom wanted again? she thought to herself. She pulled her phone out of her pants pocket and opened the most recent text from her mom. It read:
Get the Fiber One Protein cereal, maple brown sugar flavor. Make sure it’s Fiber One and not one of those knock offs, Becca. No Fiber Now, Fiber Right, etc. brands like you got last week.
“Yes ma’am,” Becca said to herself and saluted her phone. She scanned the shelves until she spotted the right box on the top shelf. She was straining to reach it when a hand appeared in front of her and pulled the box down. Becca glanced over at her helper, ready to give her thanks, and her eyes grew wide. Damn it, she thought.
“Hey, there, Becca,” Brad Tyson said, a wide grin spread across his face. His hair was thinner since the last time she’d seen him and his complexion was ruddy. He looked softer all around too, like he’d given up working out. Brad held the box of cereal out to her.
Becca felt sick to her stomach. What was he doing in Dillon’s? In Snowy Ridge? He was the last person she’d expected to see. Brad was her ex-husband, Todd’s, best friend since kindergarten and the best man at their wedding. Becca hated him.
“Brad,” she managed to get out.
Becca still hadn’t accepted the cereal box so Brad tossed it into her grocery cart. “I’d heard you were back in town and here you are.”
Becca flinched at the thought of people talking about her to Brad. God, what did they tell him? she thought. And who?
He was looking down at her with such a smug look, that the desire to slap it off his face was overwhelming. He casually leaned an arm on her cart, moving in much too close to Becca.
It was taking all of her will power not to violently shake her cart and knock him off. “Um, yeah.” she said. She was positively cringing on the inside. She did not want to talk to Brad, let alone ever see his face again. That was one of the good things she’d thought had come with the divorce. No more dealing with Todd’s loser friends; especially the crowned king of the losers, Brad.
“I’m home for a week, visiting my parents. You’re living here now though, with your parents, right?” A giant grin crossed his face.
Becca could hear the mocking tone in his voice and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. What a self-righteous jerk, she thought. “I am,” she replied flatly, her guard up for whatever nonsense would come out of his mouth next.
“That’s got to be so wild. Being an adult and living back in your parents’ house, in your childhood bedroom with like, your stuffed animals and trophies and shit. Tell me, do they give you a curfew? ‘When the street lights are off, so are you,’” he said in what Becca could only guess was his impersonation of her mother. He chuckled at his own joke.
Becca narrowed her eyes at him. She could feel the heat of her anger creeping up her face and to her ears. “No, Brad, they don’t. I’m touched you’re so concerned with my well-being though.”
Brad nodded, seemingly proud of his own wit. “Have you talked to Todd lately?” He leaned both arms on her cart now, practically on the front basket near where she was holding on. He was bent over so he came eye-to-eye with her.
Becca stared briefly at his arm, far too close to the box of super plus tampons she had tossed in the basket earlier in the shopping trip, and then back at Brad. He was so gross and obviously had no sense of personal space or he’d back the hell off of her and her groceries. “No, Brad,” she said, emphasizing his name, “I didn’t. I divorced him so I wouldn’t have to do that anymore.” What was with this guy? He was reaching new levels of asshole-ry.
“Well, he’s doing great, fantastic really,” Brad added, finally straightening up and letting go of her cart.
Becca pulled the cart closer to herself, trying to keep a barrier between her and Brad.
“He’s dating a model now,” Brad continued. “Can you believe it? I’ve met her a couple of times. She’s super hot. And really into him. She’s in the running to become one of those, what do you call them? Those underwear angels? For that big chain store in all the malls?”
“Victoria’s Secret?” Becca offered.
Brad nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that one. She’s going to be a Victoria Secret angel.”
Becca gripped the handle of her grocery cart so hard that her knuckles turned white. Brad was a jack ass. He always had been. Even before she was married to Todd she never could stand his weasel of a best friend. His hair was greasy and he always reeked of cigarettes. Becca couldn’t stand to be around smoke so when Brad would visit them, she’d never let him smoke in the apartment. His personality totally sucked too, which was probably why he’d never married himself. Becca couldn’t imagine any woman willingly wanting to settle down and procreate with Brad Tyson. The children would surely be trolls. Brad was the type of guy who was destined to order a bride off of the Internet from a far-off country. So, she wasn’t sure why Brad’s words were getting to her now. He’d always been an asshole and liked getting a rise out of her. She didn’t even believe him. There was no way Todd was dating any model, let alone a Victoria Secret one. Brad was just trying to get at Becca; and it was working. But she wasn’t going to let him know that.
Becca cleared her throat and plastered a smile across her face. “She sounds just perfect for Todd. Maybe she can even hook him up with some free underwear.”
Brad gave Becca a confused look. “No, it’s not for dudes. It’s a woman’s fancy underwear kind of place. You know, that lacey, silky stuff?”
Becca raised her eyebrows. “I know.” She shrugged. “I guess you don’t know everything about your best friend, huh?”
Brad’s jaw dropped.
“Well, my ice cream is melting. See you around, Brad.” Becca turned her cart and walked as quickly as she could toward the cashiers at the front of the market. She had to get out of the tiny store as soon as possible. While she was glad to have gotten in a dig against Todd like that, her heart was racing and her head was throbbing. That asshole Brad had gotten her so worked up. Was Todd really dating someone seriously already? He was such a prick.
Becca unloaded all of the contents of her cart onto the conveyer belt and waited for Phyllis, the cashier, to ring her up.
“Hello, there, Becca. How’ve you been?” Phyllis asked. She slowly reached for the first of Becca’s items and leisurely dragged it across the scanner.
Becca drummed her fingers on the counter. Why was Phyllis the only cashier open, right then? She was a hundred years old back when Becca used to bag for her as a teenager and she moved even slower now. “Good, I’m good Phyllis. You? Want some help scanning?”
Phyllis chuckled and dragged another item across the scanner. “No, no. We’re not one of those big operation, self-scan places. We’re old fashioned.”
Yeah, no kidding, Becca thought to herself.
Phyllis squinted at the receipt and leaned closer to get a better look. “Huh,” she said. “Doesn’t look like the price on these napkins is coming up.” She turned and pulled an old corded phone from the eighties off of its holster. “I need a price check on register one,” she said over the loud speaker.
“It’s a dollar, ninety-five, Phyllis, I swear. I wouldn’t lie.” Becca gave Phyllis a pleading look.
Phyllis looked Becca up and down. “I trust you, dear. But we’ve got rules.” Phyllis leaned against the counter, settling in for what seemed like would be a long wait for a reply.
Becca slapped a hand on her forehead and looked around the front of the store. Brad would be checking out soon and she was not having another confrontation with him. “You know what? Forget the napkins. We’ll wipe our hands on our pants this week. Just set them aside.”
“You’re sure?” Phyllis eyed her suspiciously, like she was the first person in town to ever not wait out a price check.
Becca waved her on. “I’m sure; just hurry, please.” She could feel sweat starting to roll down her back.
Phyllis finished ringing up Becca’s order and Becca bagged the groceries herself. There wasn’t a bagger readily available and she wasn’t about to sit around watching Phyllis do it with her double carpal tunnel braces.
“Have a nice day,” Phyllis called as Becca rushed toward the exit.
Becca threw a hand in the air as she continued to walk quickly. Fat chance of that, she thought.
Becca tossed her groceries into the trunk of her car and climbed into the driver’s seat. She was so mad, she was shaking. She couldn’t believe she let that douchebag get to her. He was such a tool to her in the grocery store. But what else would she expect from him? Brad was an asshole, even at their wedding. She remembered, at the time, begging Todd not to include Brad in the wedding party. She was sure he’d do something inappropriate and ruin their day. But what could she do? Todd and he were best friends for as long as they could remember so Becca had no choice. They had to include him. She shook her head, remembering the lame best man toast he had given at the wedding. He never even mentioned anything about Becca, or their new marriage. Not even a “good luck to the happy couple!” Brad just stood up there and talked about himself and his best friend Todd for fifteen minutes and then sat back down. Becca remembered positively steaming through the toast while Todd, nodded and snickered along to Brad’s stupid stories about childhood hijinks. She knew she shouldn’t have expected much from Brad. They were all young. Todd and her were only twenty-one years old when they’d gotten married. But a simple, “Congrats on getting married!” or “Here’s to the couple on their happy day!” would have been better than what he did. She bet he’d planned to leave her out of his toast all along just to annoy her. Images of kicking Brad in the head, over and over again, while he lay on the ground, flashed through her mind as she started the engine and hit the gas to back out of her parking spot.