How could I feel what I did with August in that room—how could I think about him so often—and love Caleb? I mean reallybe in lovewith Caleb? I refused to believe my heart is that fickle.
I’m not sure Caleb loves me either. I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on me, but I can’t make myself care, much less ask. Even though my new OBGYN found a birth control that works with my body, I didn’t tell Caleb. If he’s out there cheating on me, he’ll wear condoms. Further evidence that I cannot be in love with him.
A snippet of gossip penetrated my social media boycott the other day. Apparently, August has been seen with tennis star Pippa Kim on more than one occasion, and everyone’s speculating that they’re dating. It’s unreasonable, but I resent that. It makes me . . .angryis the wrong word. I don’t have a right to anger, but I don’t like it. Whatever this feeling is, it burns in the bottom of my belly all day like a smoldering coal.
I should be jealous of the numbers I find scrawled on slips of paper in the pockets of Caleb’s pants, but I’m not.
My phone rings, interrupting the plans that have cycled through my head constantly lately.
I glance at the screen. Lo is the only person I really talk to anymore, besides my mother from time to time.
“Hey, Lo,” I say, propping Sarai on my hip and crossing the heated floors barefoot. I certainly won’t have heated floors and a mansion with a parking garage full of cars if I leave Caleb, but I’d have my life back and some semblance of control over my existence.
“Hey, Bo. What the hell isup?” Lo’s voice is half-amused, half-irritated. “You forget your girl or what?”
“Course not.” I place Sarai in her high chair and pull ingredients out to prepare her lunch in the food processor. “Just busy being a mom, I guess.”
“I get that, and you know how much I love my princess, but I’m feeling a little neglected.”
“I’m pretty sure of the two of us, you have the more demanding life. Every time I call, you’re in some fashion show or at a shoot.”
“True that,” Lo says with an unabashedly satisfied chuckle. “This lifeisfly.”
I roll my eyes, a smile tweaking my lips.
“You need to figure your shit out, too,” Lo says sharply. “You can’t stay in this rut forever.”
I was excited about bouncing my plans off her like we always have, but her comment stifles my enthusiasm.
“Rut?” I ask. “You call having a baby and devoting myself to her a rut?”
“Don’t go getting all sensitive,” she says teasingly, though I’m not in the mood to be teased. “You never leave that big ol’ house. You haven’t made any friends there. You aren’t getting your career back on track.”
“I will,” I say with more confidence than I feel.
“Don’t let Caleb run all over you,” Lo plows on. “There is only one thing I take lying down, and that’s the good dick. Even then I’ll probably end up on top.”
Her audacious chuckle from the other end has me chuckling, too. God, I miss her. I miss this.
“I’ve met Caleb,” Lo says. “I doubt very seriously you’re getting the good dick.”
“Oh my God. You did not just say that.”
“Oh, yes I did, honey. I getsthe good dickno matter what is going on. That’s a priority. And I’m not talking about that rich-man dick.”
“Ex . . .cuseme?” Laughter defies my good intentions and barges out of my mouth.
“I’m just saying I haven’t met a rich man who can really fuck, ya know?”
“Um, no, I don’t know.”
“Well, Caleb is the only man you’ve ever slept with, so you’ve only had rich dick. You don’t have anything to compare it to. Gimme some of that broke dick. That unemployed, still-living-with-his-mama, sleeping-on-her-couch dick.”
I’m laughing uncontrollably now, and it only spurs her on more.
“That phone-just-got-turned-off dick,” Lo continues, warming to her subject. “Gimme a man who grew up on food stamps and never knew where the next meal was coming from. The rich ones fuck like they’re entitled to your pussy. Fuck me like I’m survival. Like your life depends on my shit. That’s some grateful dick, right there.”
“And yet I’ve never known you to date anyone like what you’re describing,” I remind her.
