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“Is my current relationship status that obvious?”
“You have the eyes.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you’re about to glow up,” Haisley says matter-of-factly. “Congrats on ditching the asshole and being free.”
Glow up. Ha! The phrase is almost laughable! I currently feel like a house mid-renovation, my walls stripped, everything barely functional and unfinished.
Soph lifts her glass. “To glow-ups.”
We clink glasses and the tension in my shoulders eases with every passing minute. Rose talks about her new book club and how she keeps accidentally choosing depressing novels. Soph recounts a disastrous karaoke night that ended with someone crying in the bathroom. Haisley tells us about the date that mansplained her job to her and still had the audacity to ask her out again.
“That’s called arrogance,” Soph says sarcastically.
“You mean delusion,” Haisley corrects. “I find pleasure in knocking men off pedestals they build for themselves.”
I laugh along, surprised by how natural it feels. Some time tonight, I slipped into a version of myself that existed before everything went sideways. Someone who laughs without checking herself and doesn’t mentally rehearse every response before speaking.
Soph’s gaze slides back to me. “Okay, girls. Let’s talk about Peyton.”
“Let’s not,” I tell her.
Rose looks apologetic. “You don’t have to answer if you’re uncomfortable. They can be a lot.”
I appreciate that. I really do. But the fact that none of these women know Nathan loosens my tongue. I’m also tired of protecting him because he never protected me.
“I’ve only ever been with my ex-husband,” I admit. “We met when I was finishing my senior year of college. Dated for over two years and got married. That was it. I never had a boyfriend before him and was a late bloomer.”
“And?” Haisley’s eyes widen with expectation.
“And,” I continue, staring into my glass, “the sex was…meh.”
The word barely scratches the surface of the truth. Sex with Nathan always felt like a performance rather than something shared with me. Everything was done around his pleasure while mine sat quietly in the corner like an afterthought neither of us acknowledged. I spent years staring at the ceiling afterward, wondering why everyone talked about sex like it was life-changing when, for me, the act mostly felt lonely. I kept shrinking my expectations smaller and smaller until I stopped having any at all. And the worst part? I truly believed that was all I deserved.
“You’re telling me you have only been with one guy and it was meh?” Soph asks.
“Very much so. Honestly, I didn’t know any different.”
Haisley props her chin on her hand, eager for more information. “Define meh.”
“It was like eating plain toast when everyone else is raving about chocolate croissants.”
“Oof. That’s brutal,” Soph says with a snort, covering her mouth.
Haisley leans in closer, curiosity dancing in her eyes. “So no fireworks? No seeing stars or angels singing? No life-changing orgasms?”
Shaking my head, a rueful smile tugs at my lips. “Nope. Just a lot of lying there, pretending whatever we had was enough. And I believed it.”
“Wow. You really went full minimalist with the experience, didn’t you?”
The joke lands easier than it would have a few months ago, making me chuckle. “Truly. I’m learning I deserve more than dry toast.”
“Did he ever go down on you at least?” Soph asks before finishing the rest of her cocktail.
I wrinkle my nose. “No.”
All three women freeze. The silence is thick. “No,” Haisley repeats.
