I follow them into the house and the aroma of lasagna wafts through the air, causing my stomach to turn. I press my hand against my stomach and hold my breath until the queasiness subsides. Linda is an excellent cook and insists on cooking for us, even though she doesn’t need to. For half a minute I thought she’d head back to LA with Liam, but she stayed. I’m glad. It’s nice to have someone in the house when it’s just me.
“Are you okay, Josie?” Bianca asks.
I nod. “I’m fine,” I tell her, offering no valid excuse as to why my stomach is flipping upside down right now.
“Your home is beautiful.”
“Thank you.” We sit down with Bianca sitting by Noah as he rattles off who knows what. She intently listens and asks questions at the appropriate time. When Linda comes out, I tell her that I’m not very hungry and she offers to make me soup instead, clearly not taking “no” for an answer.
We eat with sporadic conversation. It’s mostly Noah talking but I chime in every now and again. When his plate is clear, he asks to be excused, promising he’ll be right back. There’s an awkward silence filling the room and I know I’m the one who needs to break it.
“This really means a lot to Noah – that you’re here and that you come see him.”
Bianca smiles. She sits up straight and puts her hands in her lap, ever so proper. “He’s very funny and so smart. I’ve been enjoying my time with him.”
“Does Sterling know you’re here?” My tone is sharp and to the point. The last thing I want is that man beating down my door looking for his wife.
Her eyes fall to her lap and I know I’ve hit a nerve. “He does and doesn’t approve. But I need to do this for myself. For far too long I’ve done things his way, and I’ve missed out on so many years with my grandson, not to mention my own son. I’d like to go to Noah’s baseball game, if you think that’d be okay?”
I nod, letting her know that it’s fine. “He’d like that,” I say as I try to keep my voice from breaking.
“Do you love him?”
“Who?” I ask.
“Liam.”
My head moves up and down, telling her yes. “Of course I do. Why would you ask me something like that?” Now my voice cracks and tears threaten to fall. I love him but, in this moment, I’m not sure that I trust him.
“Because when you arrived home you were crying. I know what it’s like to be alone and to miss someone. Those weren’t the tears you were shedding. Your tears were angry.”
“How could you tell?”
“I’ve cried many tears, and the ones that made me look the worst were the angry ones.”
I’m taken aback by what she’s saying, and hate that she’s observant enough to know the difference in my tears. Right now, I’d like to ask her to leave, but Noah’s coming down the stairs and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He needs Bianca in his life and as much as part of me wants to stop their relationship, I won’t do that to him.
I leave them at the table and head into the kitchen with our plates. From a distance I can hear my phone ringing. I hope it’s not Liam because I’m not ready to talk to him. I rush to my phone, not recognizing the number.
Stupidly, I answer. “Hello?”
“Josie Westbury?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Roger Jones, Editor at Gossip. Can you confirm that Liam Page has filed for divorce?”
I set my phone down and rush into the bathroom, expelling the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Here I am again because of Liam. I try to hold it together because the last thing I want is for Bianca to ask questions.
When I sit back on my heels, she’s handing me a towel. I can’t keep the tears away any longer, nor can I keep up this stupid façade that I trust my husband.
“I’m sorry; you don’t need to see this.” I get up and head to the sink, rinsing my mouth and splashing water on my face. From behind me, the toilet flushes, causing another wave of tears. I don’t trust Bianca, and yet I’m vulnerable.
She sets my phone down on the counter and steps through the doorway. “One thing I learned from growing up in the world you’re living in is that you can’t trust everything you hear or see. Call him, Josie.” The door shuts, locking me in this small space with my demons.
“Thank you for being here today,” says the short brunette who is standing at the podium next to our table. Besides the band and Layla, four other guys are sitting at the table with us. I don’t have a clue as to who they are, but they must be important to Trixie since they’re here and willing to help her.
“If you didn’t sign in with your seat number, please let me know.” She holds up a clipboard, but there are no takers. “My name is Wendy and I’ll be your moderator today. To keep things orderly, please raise your hand and I’ll call out your seat numb