“I need my job now more than ever. I want Curtis out of my life, and I want to be able to support myself independently. I don’t want to be beholden to him any more than I have to be.” I have already resigned myself to the fact I won’t be able to apply for part-time hours again after Christmas. Even if I get a generous settlement in the divorce—part of which will be compensation for the years I stayed home with the kids so he could advance at work—and Curtis will have to pay child support, it most likely won’t be enough to maintain the standard of living I’m accustomed to unless I keep working.
Also, I enjoy the confidence I glean from my work and the sense of personal satisfaction I get from working outside the home. I know I’m a good mom. I love my kids, and taking care of them comes naturally, and it’s something that gives me enormous enjoyment. Watching my children grow and develop into the amazing humans they are is one of life’s greatest rewards. They are my greatest achievement, and nothing Curtis can do will ever take that from me.
But it’s more than that. For me, having outside interests keeps me stimulated and happy and allows me to channel it into my home life. My kids are at school, and I would quickly grow frustrated if I was at home all day with no job to keep me busy. I am not knocking it, and I enjoyed the time I spent with the kids when they were little and I wasn’t working, but it’s different now. I discussed options with my attorney, and while I could get more alimony if I wasn’t working and was solely financially dependent on Curtis, I don’t want to lose my independence.
Glancing at my watch, I notice the time and rise to my feet. “I need to head back.” The asshole is taking Ridge on an overnight camping trip with his Little League team, and they will be leaving shortly. I want to say goodbye to my son before they go. “Thank you for telling me,” I say, as we walk toward the park exit at a more leisurely place.
“I’m sorry I hesitated. I should have told you immediately.”
“No apologies are necessary.”
“I can only imagine what you are going through, Kendall, and my heart breaks for you, but I know what I’d do if I was in your shoes.” I arch a brow, urging her to continue, as we walk through the park gates. “I’d find myself a hot young lover. Why should Curtis be the only one to have fun?”
I’m still mulling over Shirley’s words as I walk toward Vander’s place a few hours later. Curtis and Ridge have gone camping overnight. Stella is having a sleepover at a friend’s house, and West has gone to dinner and the movies with Hazel. Viola asked me if I wanted to come over to her place, but Vander had already texted me asking me to come for dinner, and I didn’t turn him down.
I agreed to his friendship suggestion last weekend even if I’m not one hundred percent confident we can pull it off. The butterflies cartwheeling inside my chest attest to that. I’m excited to spend the evening with him, and that’s all kinds of wrong. Which brings me back to Shirley’s parting statement. A fling with a sexy younger guy could be just the thing I need to give me a confidence boost and get through these next couple of years. Hearing about Curtis’s pretty girlfriend has thrown me for a loop even if I’m glad I know what I’m dealing with now. A young girl is not going to want to play stepmom to three kids. Especially when two of them are closer in age to her than the man she’s screwing. I can’t bear the thought of anyone else occupying a mothering role in my kids’ lives, so maybe it’s a blessing she’s young.
Perhaps I should throw caution to the wind and take a young lover. I’ve been told on many occasions that I look young for my age, and I had no shortage of admirers when I was in school even though everyone knew I was going steady with Curtis. I know I look good for my age, and if I put myself out there, I’m sure I would find someone to have some fun with. But the prospect is daunting. Online dating is the norm these days, and I wouldn’t have a clue where to start. The thought of it gives me goose bumps.
Vander would seem like the obvious choice except he’s West’s best friend and he’s got his own problems to worry about. And we have decided to be friends.
I look up, startled to find I’m already at the gates to the carriage house Vander calls home. I was so lost in my head I didn’t even notice the walk here. I send him a quick text, letting him know I’m outside, and the gate opens a few seconds later.
“Hey.” Vander stands just inside the gate, waiting for me with a large smile on his face. “I was half expecting you to chicken out.”
“Me too,” I truthfully admit, handing over the bag with the dessert I made.
“I’m glad you didn’t.” His hand moves to my lower back as we walk toward the open doorway. The gate eases closed behind us. “After you.” Vander steps back, letting me enter the house first.
I notice the changes instantly. “You’ve been busy. The place looks great.” I spin around, taking it all in, as I remove my coat.
I hear the smile in his voice as he shuts and locks the door. “I’m glad you like it. I wanted to make it homier so you’d feel comfortable when you’re here.”
My heart does a twisty jump in my chest. “Are you saying you did this for me?”
He nods, depositing the bag with the lemon cake and whipped cream on the small kitchen counter. “I had a contractor here this week, and he built the feature wall, installed the electric fireplace, and fitted a tub in the bathroom, but I sanded and varnished the floors and painted the wall myself. Tomorrow, I’m going to paint the kitchen cupboards. I went to that furniture store on Main Street and bought everything else you see.”
The old leather couches have been replaced with a larger sleeker contemporary gray leather sectional, positioned in front of the new fireplace. Painted a rich navy blue, the feature wall has been built around the electric fireplace currently flickering with vibrant purple-blue flames. The feature wall contrasts beautifully with the original rustic stone walls, helping to give the space a modern yet traditional feel. A colorful patterned rug adorns the hardwood floor in front of the fire. Inviting plump cushions in shades of blue, white, and gray adorn the sectional. The new distressed coffee table is perched on top of the rug, matching the new end tables on either side of the couch. Stunning colored-glass lamps with large white shades reside on both.
But it’s the massive canvas hanging on the rear wall, over the couch, that really makes the room. “My God, Vander, this is incredible.” After dropping my coat and purse on the couch, I walk toward his painting with an awestruck look on my face. “It’s both intricate and simple,” I rasp as my gaze wanders over the myriad of colorful lines. They swirl across the canvas in different directions and shapes, and at first look, it would appear to be haphazard in design. Until you look closer and see how uniquely brilliant it is. “You’re not just talented. You’re intelligent with your gift,” I whisper as my finger traces over the shape of a face embedded into the lines. Within the larger face are more faces, all cleverly incorporated into the painting. I spin around with tears in my eyes. “I am lost for words. This steals my breath, Vander. And I know this is only a fraction of what you can do.”
His face glows at my praise, and I silently scream at his parents for not seeing how truly amazing he is. “Do you really like it?”