Starter Wife (The Jilted Wives Club Book 1) by Bethany Lopez (readera ebook reader TXT) 📗

“That’s great, Mom,” she said as she poured a generous amount of syrup all over her toast. “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” I said, spinning happily as I plated up the next batch, which I’d cover and save in the microwave for later.

My son, Silas, always slept in late on Saturdays. While Stella was a morning person, Silas was a night owl. It seemed like the older he got, the less I saw him during daylight hours. Especially on the weekends.

“Any big plans today?” I asked Stella, looking longingly at her French toast as I spooned fat-free yogurt into my mouth.

I’d been dieting since Marcus left and was down twenty-five pounds. When I’d found out the woman, well, girl, he’d left me for was twenty-two and had a waistline the same size as our sixteen-year-old daughter’s, I’d felt the need for some self-care.

Being a starter wife, which the Urban Dictionary defined as the woman a man marries while in training for his trade, who is there for him, has his children, runs his home and contributes in every way while his career is being established, and then when he has made it career-wise, he ditches her for a younger version who coos over and worships him, was not for the faint of heart.

“Cara and I are meeting at the library in an hour, and I have work tonight.”

“Oh, shoot, I was hoping we could have a family movie night. What time do you get off?” I asked.

Stella stood up and rounded the island to rinse off her plate and put it in the dishwasher.

“Not ‘til like eleven, sorry,” she said with a half shrug.

“That’s okay, maybe Silas will be up for it,” I said, my tone hopeful. Now that my kids were teenagers, getting to spend time with them was not as easy as it used to be. When they were younger they’d seemed to always be vying for my time and attention, now it was the other way around. And splitting my time with their father didn’t make things any easier.

“I think Si said something about going to Geo’s tonight,” Stella informed me.

“Oh, okay. Well, maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Stella said as she walked out of the kitchen, before calling back, “Thanks for breakfast.”

“You’re welcome,” I muttered and began cleaning the kitchen.

I’d had to get used to being alone a lot since Marcus had left, which was weird, since it seemed like I hadn’t had a minute to myself in twenty-five years. It took some getting used to and I found I didn’t like it much. Which was why getting a job was so important to me. Not just for the money, which I could definitely use, but to get myself out of the house and around people again.

Meeting Margo and Summer was a bonus I hadn’t expected.

With my new friends on my mind, I picked up my phone and opened up the group text Summer had started the day before.

Mexican sounds great, had been my reply to her question about our next Thursday night dinner.

Now I wrote, I got the job!

I was about to put my phone back on the counter when it started ringing in my hand.

I turned it over to see my ex-husband’s name on the read out and groaned. Why does he feel the need to call me? I mean seriously, he could talk to the children directly and leave me out of it. And if it’s something he needed to say, why couldn’t he just text?

I shook it off, cleared my throat, and accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Whitney, I need to talk to you about next weekend,” Marcus said, without so much as a Hi back.

“What about it?”

Next weekend is his weekend with the kids.

“I’m taking Bridget to Vegas for the weekend, so I won’t be able to have the kids. You don’t have anything going on, right? So they can stay home?”

I knew I should be offended at his assumption I had no plans, but since he was right, I let it slide.

“The kids are old enough to be home without supervision, so technically they could still come to your place,” I said, not because I cared whether they were at my house or his, mostly because he annoyed me, and I wanted to annoy him back.

“Bridget doesn’t want them at the house when we aren’t here.”

“Wow,” I replied. “Nothing like making them feel like guests in your home.”

“Jesus, Whit, why do you have to turn this into a big deal? You wouldn’t want them to be home alone all weekend if you were going to be out of town.”

I sighed and said, “You’re right. Sorry. But you don’t have to ask me if the kids can stay with me. This is their home, they are welcome here at all times.”

“I know that, I was simply trying to do the right thing and give you a head’s up now.”

I gritted my teeth and managed to say, “I appreciate it.”

“Talk to you later,” Marcus said with a sigh and hung up.

I looked at the phone and shook my head. It was hard to believe he was the same man I’d spent the better part of my life with. Now he seemed like a stranger. And if I was honest, I still hadn’t forgiven him for blowing up our lives.

Just the thought of him made me want to punch something. Hard. Instead, I pushed off the counter and headed toward my bedroom.

Was it any wonder why the thought of ever getting married again made me sick to my stomach?

I suddenly had the urge to reorganize my closet.

Six

Luca

“Mama, you look gorgeous as always,” I said as I leaned in to kiss both of her cheeks. She smelled of lavender and tomato sauce, which were two smells that shouldn’t go together, but were somehow perfect on my mother.

“Thanks, sweetheart, so do you,” she replied, beaming up at me in a way that made me feel guilty for missing so many Sunday dinners.

I took the bottle of wine I’d brought, her favorite, into the kitchen