I wasn’t thinking of vacations in Bali or designer handbags. I was thinking of the mountain of medical bills sitting in the drawer. I was thinking of a car that didn’t rattle when it hit forty miles per hour. I was thinking of a nursery that didn’t double as a storage room for my husband’s…
Julian crouched down. He didn’t kneel like a penitent; he crouched like a predator examining a wounded gazelle. His Italian suit was immaculate—charcoal grey, not a wrinkle, not a spec of dust. He smelled of aged single-malt whiskey and her perfume. Cheap gardenias and ambition. Elena. His Vice President, his mistress, the invasive species that had choked the life…
I looked down. Five-year-old Lily was clutching the side of the cart, her eyes wide and hopeful. In her small hand, she held a plush teddy bear with a satin blue ribbon. “For the baby, Mommy? So he won’t be lonely?” My heart fractured. I looked at the price tag on the bear—$12.99. Then I…
“Remember,” he continued, leaning in so close that I could smell the peppermint mouthwash masking the morning’s scotch. “Tonight is the Carter Gala. You are my trophy. You do not speak unless spoken to. You do not opine. And for the love of God, Elena, keep that wrap tight. Hide that belly. It ruins the…
“What is this?” Linda held up a small, crumpled slip of paper. “Three dollars and fifty cents for strawberries?” Sarah felt a flush of heat rise in her cheeks. “It was for your birthday cake, Linda. You said you wanted a Victoria sponge. Strawberries are the traditional filling.” “I said I wanted a sponge cake,”…
Madison: “Finally, a Thanksgiving without the black cloud. Maybe you’ll learn to be less awkward if you spend a year alone.” Tyler: “Mom’s right. Just ruins the vibe.” I set the phone face down on the cool marble of my desk. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of lemon oil and old books. Thirty-four…
I pushed past her, the cool air of her hallway hitting my flushed skin. Inside, the house smelled of lemon polish and roasting chicken. Our mom was in the kitchen, humming a tune from the seventies, setting out dinner plates with precise, rhythmic clinks. She was oblivious. She was in a world where daughters came…
Brenda was lounging on the sofa, scrolling through Instagram. She was the golden child—married to a car dealership owner, mother to two loud, spoiled sons who were currently destroying the upstairs playroom, and possessor of a cruelty that she disguised as “tough love.” “You’re thirty-four, Sophia,” Brenda said, not looking up. “You’re living in a…
“Step closer to the railing, Evelyn,” he whispered, his voice a low, melodic hum that vibrated in the marrow of my bones. “You need to feel the snow properly. It’s beautiful tonight.” I moved forward, my boots crunching on the thin layer of frost. The city below was a tapestry of amber and emerald lights,…
I tried to turn my face away, to avoid the heat radiating from him, but he surged forward. His fingers, calloused and rough, clamped around my wrist with the force of a vice. With a sudden, brutal jerk, he slammed my shoulder back against the metal door. The impact sent a jar of pickles rattling…