Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 153(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)
I looked toward the open window again and could only imagine what they were doing in there. I’d seen him dance with her, seen him kiss her before they disappeared. The pain was unbearable, like hot coals in the pit of my stomach.
I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw the lights behind me and realized there were two cops coming up behind me. When they parked and got out, I almost shit myself. If I get another citation, it would be bad for me not only in this town but anywhere I go to get a job in the country.
How did they know I was here? I’ve been doing this for months, and no one ever did or said anything, so why now? I rolled down the window when the knock came. “Good evening, officer. What can I do for you?”
“We received a complaint about a strange car in the neighborhood. License and registration.”
“I was just about to leave, officer. I was just doing some work on my phone.” My heart was beating so loud that I heard it. He took my information and, thankfully, only let me off with a warning and sent me on my way.
Does this mean that I can’t hang out there any longer? Will my car be reported every time I show up from now on? But how was I supposed to get close to Justin now? I wasn’t allowed at my old job and he was never at his apartment. This is the only place where I stood a chance of getting to him. Now, it seemed like I was going to lose this as well. It's not fair. None of this is fair.
CHAPTER 15
Did I forget to mention that I made a call to the local precinct before leaving the bathroom earlier tonight? I asked for a particular officer who was familiar with the case because I didn’t want her behind bars again. I asked only that she be let off with a warning this time.
He’s under the impression that I’m a compassionate, kind woman. While I know damn good and well, that I’m helping her dig a grave deep enough to keep her ass buried.
That’s on account of the fact that there were days I felt like I was being buried alive. When the weight of the affair and the ensuing divorce laid heavily on my shoulders and heart and, I didn’t know if I was going to make it to the next day. My kids needing me was the only thing I had back then, and it was what basically pulled me through the rough times.
But I don’t want to be one of those women who lives only for her kids. I’m still relatively young with a lot of life left to live after all. Now, here’s the thing. I thought that after all this, I would hate my ex, but surprisingly, it didn’t happen.
I’m not sure what I expected, maybe that I’d hate his guts overnight, but for some stupid reason I could never forget the good times, the times when he was there for me. I don’t blame just Daisy Dukes for the failure of my marriage, neither do I blame only him, I accept that I played a part in the demise of our union. That does not mean that I had any part in their decision to be pond-sucking scum and cheat, but I’m no hypocrite.
What my darling husband doesn’t seem to realize or didn’t at the time of the affair is that neither of us is the same people we were when we first met. Our priorities changed, at least mine did, once we had kids and the things I was free to do in the past were no longer viable.
He on the other hand, seemed to think that since I carry the label of mom, that meant all parental responsibilities rested on my shoulders. When he was on with the kids, he was on; he just wasn’t on often enough.
He was tired from work, and I was tired from being at home with the kids all day with no real help. Who the fuck had time to pander to his ego after spending all day cleaning up spills and trying to keep the place in order?
His mom raised him on her own, so he thought I should do the same.
The fact that she only had him seems to have gone completely over his idiot head. Even his mom told him I needed more help, but I never wanted to use her as my babysitter because the woman had a damn life and had raised her kid already. His freaky ass likes getting me pregnant but clocks out when the real work begins.
It took the divorce for me to finally get some real help because, apparently, married women don’t need as much help because they have husbands. Did no one tell these people that most husbands aren’t worth shit when it comes to the hard parts of raising kids?