8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Istared in the mirror at myself. My blue, polka dot dress hung to my knees and hugged my curves in a way that refused to hide my growing baby bump or larger breasts. I threw a cream-colored sweater overtop, so that I could hide my cleavage, something that was becoming increasingly necessary as I grew with the pregnancy.

“You need to do this,” I reminded myself. It was important for me to be able to meet Rich’s other children. Mel had been right about that. They were going to be my child’s siblings and I wanted my daughter to be able to have that moving forward. If, God forbid, anything ever happened to me, they were her only family that would be left. Those children and their father. I found myself wondering if Mel would be willing to take on the responsibility of my child if anything should happen to me.

It felt like a huge ask to make of someone who I was still getting to know, but Mel had shown what a wonderful person she was when she never once placed the blame on my shoulders for what her husband had put us both through. She never saw me as the homewrecker that most of my coworkers accused me of being. Like she had mentioned that day in my condo, we had the misfortune of knowing how it felt, to an extent. The biggest difference is that Mel wouldn’t be villainized in the same ways. She was seen, for the most part, as the victim while I was seen as the problem. I didn’t think there were support groups for women in my circumstance, but maybe there should be.

When I finally got myself in gear and on my way to Mel’s house, I wondered exactly what I would be walking into. I was going to her house. There were sure to be signs of their life together - other than the children they’d made. Pictures, the furniture they chose as a couple, and all those little things that make a house a home would be constant reminders of the life they’d made together before Rich dragged me into the middle of it. The only saving grace was that they hadn’t been living there long. It wasn’t like I’d be walking into the marital home they’d shared all along. I don’t know why that distinction mattered in my mind, but for some reason it did.

I knocked on the door when I got there and shifted the cupcakes I’d brought with me. I would have brought wine for the adults and cookies for the kids, but since the two adults were pregnant, I figured cupcakes would be perfect for everyone. I’d baked them myself, and tested enough of them to know that they were absolutely delicious.

“Aviva, welcome,” Mel called out to me as she opened the door and held her hand out in a welcoming gesture. “Come on in and we can go put that down in the kitchen,” she said while eyeing the cupcake holder in my hands. “Are those cupcakes?”

“Yes, I figured since we can’t drink, it would be perfect. Plus, the kids could join in as we binge on sweets.”

“You are so perfect. I’ve been craving cake.” She rubbed her belly, “I don’t even think the baby cares what flavor of cake I have, so long as I eat some.” We both giggled at that. I hadn’t really had any weird cravings yet, so I couldn’t relate to that, but cake did make me feel better while I was eating it and thankfully, I didn’t have to worry too much about gaining a few pounds from indulging.

“Mel, do you have another charger? My phone just died.”

We both turned to see a very handsome man approaching us while staring down at his apparently dead phone. When no one answered, he finally glanced up and took note of me standing there.

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were already here.” He held out his hand for me to shake. “I’m Braxton, but everyone calls me Brax.”

“Aviva, but you can call me Avi,” I stated as we shook hands. His grip was warm and comforting. He obviously knew who I was and why I was there. Oddly enough, it made me chuckle because Mel and I very clearly had the same taste in men, considering we shared her husband, and I could see why she might fall into her friend’s bed to try to get over her heartache.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

Mel’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “It’s okay, I was probably thinking the same thing.”

“Yeah?” I asked, not really believing her.

“We seem to have similar taste,” she said quietly as we followed her best friend back toward the kitchen. I ended up laughing and she joined me.

“We really were thinking the same thing.”

“I told you. We are going to be as close as sisters. I feel a deep kinship with you. Maybe it’s trauma bonding or whatever, but I think we should just roll with it, especially since we’ll be in each other’s lives from here on out for our kids’ sake.

“I still don’t know how you’re so amazing.”

“Did you think I’d lure you here to poison you?” She almost cackled as she addressed my biggest fears.

“Honestly? Had I not talked to you before, I would have wondered if that was what you wanted to do, but no I wasn’t worried about that. I’m just still blown away by the fact that you don’t hate me.”

“You don’t hate me, do you?”

“God, no. How could I? It wasn’t your fault that your husband did what he did.”

“It wasn’t your fault that he lied to you, either.” She agreed.

“Fair enough.”