Nuh-uh.
“Oh, you’re a bold one, huh—” Right on cue, an angry hiccup escapes me before I can stop it, and at this point, I couldn’t care less how weak it makes me look.
“Listen…” Syd’s eyes flutter-roll with visible annoyance. “Bruh, it was just one. Relax.”
Relax? Bruh? Yeah, okay, sis.
“Wow!” Every inch of me boils with rage. “Listen, I’m gon’ be good. But the next time you want to take my picture without asking, maybe ask yourself if you’re ready for—”HICCUP!
And then she actually laughs.
“What you need to do is calm down before you give yourself palpitations.” She tugs the pencil from her hair, letting her braids fall down her back. “What were you going to say? Am I ready for a lawsuit?” Then, almost as an afterthought, she mutters, “Should be thanking me for the free publicity.”
For all of five seconds I consider going full reality-show meltdown, demanding to see the manager with a debutante smile and a gloved slap. But in a divine moment of clarity, I hear Whit’s voice in my head.We are not letting these bougie, low-vibrational folks definenor destroy your happiness one more day.
Low vibrational, indeed.
Why would I voluntarily give theLuxe Ladiesfandom ammunition? They’re waiting for me to resurface on some blog so they can knock me back down.
“Cool.” I nod and smile.
She giggles. “Cooler.”
Lord, give me the strength.
I mentally brush it off. What did she even get out of this? One picture of me shopping for journals? Whoop-de-do. What are the blogs going to do with that?
As if she’s reading my mind, Syd pulls out her phone again and starts scrolling, that smug smile front and center. She flips the screen toward me, showing a picture—this one from last week, taken as I was entering the Sterling building for my appointment with Savanah.
I shrug, not following. “What’s this supposed to be?”
For a moment, I rack my brain, wondering why people are suddenly snapping photos of me again. Julian and I haven’t been together in a year. The divorce is final, so he can screw around with every woman in Ellswood to his heart’s delight. And I haven’t been on a single real date, so…
“Everyone’s saying you got a new man…” Syd trails off, her eyes flicking to my hands, and for a beat, I freeze.
And then it hits me.
The only person I’ve talked to about dating, aside from Savannah and the divas, is my loose-lipped mother.When was it, lastweek?I close my eyes against a long sigh, smiling to myself. If the blogs want to waste their time chasing down a nonexistent man, who am I to stop them?
“I’m telling you, I live rent-free in some of these folks’ heads,” I say, ready to let it go and give Mom an earful when I leave this place.
But then Syd looks me dead in the eye and says, “Can’t be too serious with that chalk line around your finger.” As if she knows I only recently took off my wedding ring, and how could I be serious about anyone new when the tan line proves I’ve been holding on to the old one? But she’s wrong. I wasn’t stuck on him—I was clinging to the old me.
Not like she deserves an explanation.
I’m stunned silent.
Then a shocked laugh escapes me, and I’m standing here, mouth open, utterly gobsmacked.
“You know what…” I unzip my purse, digging frantically around the bottom for my wallet, because this woman has outworn her welcome. “Let me hurry up and finish my purchase so I can move on with my day.”
I’m muttering under my breath as I pull out my credit card and quickly tap to pay, fully intending to let her keep the receipt, since it’ll be hell and high water before I set foot in this boutique again.
“Your ex is certainly moving on with his,” she says, casually, like it’s nothing.
With one simple sentence, she’s shaken the ground beneath my feet.
Another hiccup bubbles up. It takes every ounce of dignity and grace left in my body not to snatch that phone from her hands to see what she’s talking about. The only thing that stops me is knowing that’s what she wants. It’s what Nora and her whole fanbase want, and the unbothered woman I’m striving to be—the divorcétante—won’t give them the satisfaction.
