Page 34 of Always Been Yours

“Honestly, I don’t know.”

He looks slightly confused by my answer, probably assuming it was Vivi who invited me, but I really don’t know if he knows Lexi or any of the other Davies.

I wasn’t even sure if I was planning on going to Spotlight tonight until I asked Knox. Somehow it feels like I have back-up. And that doesn’t even make sense considering he’s friends with Genevieve and I hardly know him.

Regardless, I decided to call Blake and ask her to watch the girls tonight. I knew that she’d say yes. Millie’s been sad that she goes to the public school rather than the charter school. She said she was willing to give up all her friends to go to school with her cousins. We have compromised with weekly sleepovers. Sometimes more than one.

I’m on my way back home after dropping them off. My plan is to take a quick shower and change before heading out. I’ve only been to a karaoke bar once. And that was years ago.

My college teammates and I went to New Orleans together for a fall break trip during our junior year of college. One of the last stops of the night was the Cat’s Meow where five intoxicated D1 athletes performed “BedRock”together. The crowd was nice enough to cover Nicki Minaj’s part for us.

I swore that once was enough for my lifetime, but I guess tonight proves just how much I’m willing to do to get back into the good graces of Amada Beach.

I could say it’s for Asher and Calypso but there doesn’t seem to be much animosity there. Hudson’s always preferred to stay out of other people’s business. I don’t anticipate him having much to say either.

I know that tonight is about working my way off Vivi’s blacklist.

My phone pulls me out of my thoughts, ringing through Bluetooth.

Arielle calling…flashes across the dashboard.

I can’t stop the soul-aching groan that spills out of me.

There truly isn’t any bad blood between us. Once we both accepted that we wanted a divorce and agreed on where the girls should go, the divorce was easy enough. We both were given a trust fund when we graduated from college and bought a house with a small portion of those. The financial separations took the longest to work out. Cutting emotional ties was the easiest. Which is really depressing considering we had a life together.

The girls and I are adjusting though. Even before we moved out here, the three of us had routines. We had a life together even if it was only us three. Even if I felt like I was carrying the entire world on my back and didn’t have anyone to turn to.

That’s what I miss the most from my marriage—having someone to talk about these parental struggles and someone who understands.

I’m beginning to wonder if what Arielle misses the most is the company that comes with marriage. The knowledge that someone’s there, waiting for you, present for you.

Since we moved home, Arielle has been calling more. And texting more. She’s always tried to stay as present in the girls’ lives aspossible but that’s shifted back to me. The calls and texts will start with the girls but quickly move to questions about me, my life. And I don’t really care to have those conversations with her anymore.

I need the separation.

But my guilt always gets the best of me.

So, I answer.

“Hello?” I don’t know why I always answer my calls like that when I know who it is. That’s what caller ID is for. It’s always bothered her no matter how much I tried to break the habit.

“Hi,” she replies in a tense voice.Yup, annoyed by my greeting.She clears her throat then uses a lighter voice, “How was your day?”

Maybe it shouldn’t but it feels really freaking awkward.

“It was good. I just dropped Stella and Daisy off with Blake for the night.” I always try to bring the conversation back to our daughters.

“That’s nice. I’m sure they’ll have fun…” she trails off, probably wondering how to keep the conversation going.

I take pity on her. “How was your day?”

“It was pretty good,” she perks up. “We’re in Phoenix for the next two weeks. I called some of the girls to plan dinner.”The girlswould be the three mom-friends Arielle made through the PTA.

I let her tell me about her shows and the plans she made and a lot of other things I only partially hear while I drive home.

When I pull into the garage, I finally cut her off. “Hey, Arielle? I’m sorry to end the call so abruptly,” I start cautiously, even though I’m not, “but I just got home and I’m kind of running low on time right now.”

I can feel the shock before I hear it in her voice. “Oh… What are you doing tonight?” She doesn’t really have a right to ask that, and she knows it. She immediately backtracks, “No, no. I’msorry—inappropriate. It’s just a habit.”

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