After lunch, I met with a potential client and spent the rest of the day pouring over my matters I brought with me from my last firm. Once I told a few of my corporate clients about my new job, they asked to remain clients of mine despite me switching to a new law office. Most of their work didn’t require in-person meetings, and so I could work on their cases from any office I wanted.

While I highlighted a few sheets with a neon yellow highlighter, my phone rang and pulled me out of my concentration.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Mrs. Montgomery?”

“It’s Ms., but yes, this is she.”

“This is the principal over at Pinewood Elementary. The after school program ended a half hour ago, but no one has come to pick up Charlie. When can we expect you to arrive?”

Oh, fuck.

“Sorry, there must have been a miscommunication with our babysitter. I’ll be there right away.”

My heart plunged and guilt sucker-punched me in the gut. All the excitement of starting a new job distracted me from the most important job: being a mother. I locked my computer, grabbed my coat and flew down the stairs where the cleaning crew was vacuuming and wiping down the surfaces in our lobby. I thrust open the building doors and sprinted to my car, my coat still unzipped.

The school was a ghost town when I pulled in toward the cafeteria in the back of the brick building. Only three other cars remained in the lot. I jogged the few yards from my car to the back doors, my heels clacking the entire time.

I reached for the handle to open the door, only to find it was securely locked. An audible groan erupted from my throat, and I pounded on the doors. Charlie strutted toward the door with his winter jacket tied around his petite waste and his Iron Man backpack bouncing along with him.

"Hey, kiddo!"

"Mom, it's a push door, not a pull," he said, his voice muffled.

I gawked at him incredulously, then tried to push the door. This time, it opened with ease.

"Oh, yeah, I knew that. I was just testing you," I jested.

"Sure," he said and rolled his eyes.

Again, with the damn eye rolling!

"Ready to go home?"

The principal emerged from behind Charlie with his arms crossed against his chest and pursed lips.

"Sorry again,” I said to the principal.

He nodded, but his gaze never wavered. Shame washed over me. Today, I was a stellar lawyer, but a shitty mom. I’d have to make it up to Charlie somehow.

My son galloped to the car and jumped into the back seat once I unlocked it with my fob. I started the engine and turned the heat on full blast. "What do you think you want for dinner?"

"Pizza."

"How about something a little healthier?"

"White pizza." He turned on his iPad, which I kept in the pouch attached to the back of the passenger seat, and tuned out our conversation. I had to hand it to him, though. He was clever.

"Good one. What about a tasty chicken Caesar salad?"

"Nah," he answered.

"Fine, you win." I wasn't in the mood to cook, anyway, and a pizza sounded delicious. My mouth watered.

The problem? I still had no idea which places had quality food around here.

"Siri? Call the closest pizza shop."

"Calling Josie's Pizza, Wings and More," Siri said stoically.

I ordered a small white pizza and a large order of garlic bread. It had to be better than scraping up a last minute meal with the little ingredients I had at home.

A half hour later, Charlie and I sat at the table devouring our dinner. It would have been sooner, but I had to wrestle the iPad from his hands. Consequently, I grounded him for the rest of the night from the damn thing. Kids these days!

I rubbed my belly while Charlie burped obnoxiously loud. "Excuse me," he tittered.

I narrowed my eyes and tried to stifle my laugh. Sometimes I had the hardest time reprimanding my son when he acted out, especially when bodily functions were involved. I may be a lawyer, but I have a sense of humor too.

"How was school?" I questioned as I cleared the table.

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yeah, Mom. It was just like a regular day."

"Did you make any friends?"

"A few," he said.

"Good!”

“Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“Did you forget about me again?”

My heart thudded with sadness. “I’m sorry, buddy. I lost track of time.”

“You work too much,” Charlie said.

I sighed. “Hey, why don't you go wash your hands?"

Charlie growled.

"Go!" I pointed toward the bathroom door down the hall.

"I just washed my hands before dinner!"

"Well, wash 'em again or no ice cream." Those three words were more powerful than any others I could muster with my kid. He had a sweet tooth, and sometimes, I used that to my advantage. Someone once told me the key to having your kids listen was to find out what they loved the most then threaten to take it away. I chuckled every time his eyes grew when I threatened to cancel dessert.

While Charlie busied himself in the bathroom, I retrieved the mail and sorted through the piles of junk and bills. One letter caught my eye with its Victorian script, and my heart plunged at rapid speed. I knew it was coming, but that didn't mean I was any more prepared. I ripped open the envelope, and consequently, a papercut seared across my finger. A few tears dripped down my cheeks while blood simultaneously dropped down my finger. I called out an expletive, which sent Charlie running from the bathroom back into the kitchen.

"Mama! Are you okay?"

Cursing under my breath this time, I answered, "Yes. Sorry, sweetie. Papercut."

Charlie shrugged and walked away. Apparently, a papercut meant nothing to him. I sucked the blood from the wound and put a bandage on it right away. Once it was all cleaned up, I dreaded going back to the piece of mail which prompted the papercut in the first place.

It was an invitation—and not just any invitation; it was an invite to my ex-husband's wedding. I cringed and swallowed the bile which had risen in my throat. In a million years, I never thought I'd have to choose chicken or steak at Cal's wedding. I had to go, though, right? I couldn't let him think I wasn't strong enough to watch him exchange vows with his new bride. Oh, Angela. The tall, brunette with an ostentatious rack and a voluptuous body. She graduated from college a few years ago. Her youth was the cherry on top.

They met at a bar where she worked through her senior year at the state college outside of town. At first, I thought she was just a fling, but once I found out Cal had introduced her to Charlie without my consent, well, let's just say things got a little heated. I told Cal he had no right to make parenting decisions without me. He told me I had no say in who he dated or introduced to Charlie. We screamed at each other for almost an hour at his house, my old address, before Angela intervened and apologized. She admitted she was wrong to come into Charlie's life before having spoken to me first. I admired her courage to stand up to a fiery mama bear ready to draw blood, but I still wasn't happy with the situation. Now, I wasn't exactly elated to see her marry the man I thought I'd be buried next to one day.

Cal, or Calvin, and I met our junior year of college. He stood only a few inches taller than me and wore his dark brown hair very short. Cliché, I know. He majored in business; I majored in criminal justice. We were the power couple, the dangerous duo, the dream team. All our friends envied our relationship. I thought I met the man I'd spend the rest of my life with. We married soon after I turned 23, and a couple years later, I was pregnant. But just when our lives were supposed to be bursting with joy, everything came crashing down.

As an associate at a large firm, I often worked eighty hours a week. If I wanted to advance my career, that meant doing everything in my power to impress the partners. Often, that meant forgoing sleep, and if they asked me to jump, I replied, “How high?”

At first, Cal didn’t mind, but as time wore on, he grew frustrated with my schedule. I only slowed down when I gave birth to Charlie, but even then, I worked from home. If I wanted to make it as a lawyer, I had to put in the time. Cal didn’t understand, because at his job, he worked forty hours a week, max.

Then, once I made partner, my responsibilities only expanded. Cal turned impatient and annoyed with me, which resulted in petty fights when I was home. He told me he felt like a single father. I told him he was being ridiculous. Guilt slammed into me every time I checked the clock during a late night at the office and knew my boys were at home without. I wanted to be home with them, cuddled on the couch with a bowl of ice cream in my lap. But I knew in my heart, becoming a successful attorney would help my family in the long run. I wanted to provide for them. I wanted to save money for us all to go on lavish vacations to Disney and to the beach. I wanted to shower my son with love and presents. I wanted all the finer things in life and I wanted my family to have them, too.

It hurt me on the deepest of levels when Cal questioned my love for him and our son. There’s no one in the entire world I loved more. I just also happened to love my job. Why couldn’t I love both? It felt as though I was being pulled in two separate directions, tearing me apart in the process.

Giving birth to Charlie was the happiest day of my life. It’d been a tough delivery and I spent many hours in the hospital, but when I held him in my arms for the very first time, my entire world changed. I never knew I could love something so small with such an undeniable intensity. This little boy moved mountains inside my heart. I wanted to give him everything I never had, but that required dedication on my part. I also wanted to set an example that hard work pays off.

Cal was fortunate enough to grow up in a wealthy household. He skated through school and his father helped him find a job after graduation. I wasn’t afford such luxuries. I wanted to balance out Cal’s luck with my passion for being the best.

I didn't want to believe my perfect marriage was destructible, but the chinks in our armor weakened with every passing day. We weren't supposed to be like other couples. We were supposed to be better than them.

On the night of our eighth wedding anniversary, I ended up working late and crashing on the couch in my office. I had completely forgotten our dinner plans and worked well into the night on a case coming up for trial in the next few weeks. Even though I’d been the one to ask my mother- and father-in-law to watch Charlie for the night, our plans completely slipped my mind. Cal never forgave me for that night.

“You love your job more than you love me,” he said the next day when I came home.

“That’s not true, Cal.”

“Do you even care about your family? You’re never home!”

“Of course I care!”

“Prove it, Amelia.” He challenged.

Cal’s demeanor devolved into a distant, icy wall toward me after I missed our anniversary dinner. We only spoke to discuss Charlie, and even then, his voice was clipped and short. I tried to cut my hours short at work from time to time, but even then, Cal wanted me home even more.

Every weekend for the next few months, I made an effort to plan a family outing. One Saturday, we went to the zoo, another I bought tickets for the local science museum. However, if I checked my phone or responded to an email while we were out, Cal shot me contemptuous looks. It felt like it was never enough for him.

I wished more than anything he understood the demands of working in a law firm. I wished he knew every night I spent at the office, I wished I could be with them, too. I begged him to realize that every day I came home early, I lost the opportunity to succeed.

I couldn't keep up the facade any longer, though and neither could he. Cal began sleeping in our guest bedroom, if he came home at all. Our nanny sensed the disarray in our home, despite my attempts to conceal our imminent demise.

One evening, Cal came home and rushed into the shower after throwing his clothes in the washer. Suspicion rippled through me as I tiptoed to the laundry room, opened the washer and pulled out Cal’s sopping button-up shirt. On the collar, bright red lipstick was smeared across the material.

Most wives would have been overcome with devastation. Me, however, I was relieved. This was my “out.” Sure, it hurt to know he was sleeping with another woman, but now I wouldn’t have to endure his endless rants about my work hours and lack of dedication to our marriage.

I cornered him before bed and asked if he was having an affair. His reaction? He sighed, and a look of apathy enveloped his face. At one time, we were hopelessly in love. But our love spoiled over time, and the end seemed inevitable.

He admitted to having an affair with Angela, the bartender. We divorced several months later and BAM, I became a single mother in the blink of an eye. I never thought it would happen to me. I never imagined I'd struggle to find babysitters or have to bring my child to work with me on days a sitter wasn't available. I shouldered the brunt of parenthood while Cal took Charlie on the weekends and went public with his new relationship. My world collapsed around me, but I couldn't wallow in self-pity. I had a child to raise and a career to grow. Who knew it would take a divorce for me to cut down my hours at work? I still put in almost 60 hours a week, but I worked far less than what I used to.

Last year, the scars of divorce still fresh, I heard it through the grapevine that Cal proposed to Angela. I knew he'd shacked up with her, but marriage? We’d only been divorced around two years. It was when I ran into them one night at a cozy Italian restaurant, I realized the rumors were true. I saw the way he watched Angela, and my heart shattered. He looked at her the way he once looked at me: deeply and utterly in love. Not to mention, the ring on her finger glittered in the dim light of the restaurant. I couldn't prevent the pang of jealousy from crashing into me when I realized the diamond was far larger than the one Cal bought me so many years ago.

Even though it was for the best, and our marriage wouldn’t have lasted, a piece of my heart died the night I realized Cal moved on. Would I ever be granted my own chance to move on? Would I ever find someone who accepted both my love and dedication to my job?

Now, with the invitation in hand, I had to decide whether or not to attend my ex-husband's wedding.

Fuck me.