The Next Wife, Kaira Rouda [fiction books to read TXT] 📗

grew up with nothing, so I guess I was just drawn into the closet like a moth to a flame. I’ve never seen so many beautiful things.” I held her stare until she broke the gaze.

“How poor were you?” Ashlyn asked, bounding down the elegant stairway two steps at a time.

“Very. Poorest in my school. And all the kids knew it.” I fight back the memories. The dresses with holes in the sleeves, the shame of pants too short for my long legs. The calloused hands touching my body, the hand over my mouth as I tried to scream. The knowledge that no one cared, no matter what he did. My momma’s cold, dark, disbelieving eyes. No one ever believed me. No one ever became my friend. “It sucked. But I got out.”

“How did you get out?” Ashlyn stood at the bottom of the stairs looking up at me.

“Well, first I moved to a new state and never looked back. Next I met Ron, the dentist I dated while I was waiting tables at Bob Evans. We were married. Everything was so wonderful. But then he left me.”

Ashlyn’s face contorts in shock. “He left you? How horrible! You’ve had such a hard life.”

“Yes,” I said pretending to wipe a tear from under my eye. I did have a horrible childhood, but the part about Ron leaving me wasn’t true. It made a better story, though. Ron had been good for about a minute. He had a fabulous apartment, a stocked refrigerator, and two cars. He checked all the boxes I needed for that moment. I needed him in Cincinnati. I needed the braces I’d never had and a soft bed with someone who loved me. But he was a means to an end—stability after the storm of my childhood. Once I got the corporate job working for Mr. Howe, I didn’t need Ron anymore. When I left Ron, I never looked back.

“I can’t believe you were married.” Ashlyn’s mouth gaped open. “You’re just a few years older than me!”

“I know. It’s been hard,” I said. And then, seemingly overcome by emotion, I plunked down on the second to last step and let Ashlyn comfort me.

“Wow, well, at least you’re here now. There are plenty of great guys out there, and I know you’ll find one of them soon,” she said. So sweet. She didn’t know I wasn’t looking further than her home.

And that’s when we became BFFs. She really liked me, and I liked her. I could almost feel the love between us, the sense of family forming. Maybe I’d finally found a friend? Maybe more. Operation Ashlyn was a success. The rest of the weekend was fun and games, ordering in and staying up late. Pj parties and boys sneaking over. It was all a high school dream. Like it was supposed to be when you’re a teenager, like it was supposed to be when you had a rich family. I was at once jealous and having fun.

And then, like a cherry on top, John came home early from the high school reunion in California, leaving Kate all alone across the country.

Of course, I needed to stay on and babysit. He had to work, so it was the least I could do. And Ashlyn insisted. It was thanks to her that we ended up together. I knew John flew home early to be with me. And I was right. The infatuation was so intense, I was surprised Ashlyn missed it. I didn’t. But teenage girls only care about one thing—themselves.

It’s too bad Ashlyn and I aren’t as close as we once were. Jennifer slipped into that big sister relationship, and Kate, well, she’s worked hard to get back into her daughter’s good graces.

I have to watch all three of them at work every day. Well, I used to. It’s disgusting. But I’ll win Ashlyn back, just like I will John. We’re family now, and that’s the strongest bond. At least that’s what my uncle George said last week when we got together in downtown Columbus, and I tend to believe him. I have to believe him. He’s the only family I’ve got.

But grown women have a lot to worry about. That’s why I’m here in Telluride focusing on my marriage.

I need to be in the moment and watch the scenery gliding by outside the windows of the gondola. It is electric here. Kool-Aid colors: bright blue, vibrant yellow, neon green. Telluride’s best-kept secret is summer, that’s what all the locals tell us. It might be true. There’s something about the wide, deep blue sky, darkening each moment in the glow of the dying sun. The green grasses covering the meadows drenched in shadows. The towering pines. People who vacation here are the lucky few. Do they even notice the full moon peeking over the mountain? Do they notice nature at all, or simply believe they are masters of all they see? These people only notice the brand of designer attire the couples across the gondola wear. Is the fur real? Is her diamond bigger than mine? It’s pathetic, really, but so fun to observe. I know because I’m watching them. I want everything they have, and more. Why play the game if you don’t want to win?

I decide tonight the moon is an omen of some sorts. I don’t believe in such things, typically. As a rule, I only believe in myself. Beside me, John gathers up the shopping bags. We’re about to reach the bottom: our gondola stop.

Dangling here, in this glass box high above a pricey and pristine wilderness, you’d think everyone should be happy. I look at the other passengers on the gondola. Across from us is a young mom and dad with three small kids, the parents working so hard to keep everyone seated for the ride. The mom looks exhausted. These first wives do struggle. They have to give birth to the baby, or babies, and then devote themselves to the kids for the rest