SoccerMom Chic
I told Jake about the baby. He's hoping for a boy, because two girls is too much, according to him. His home is a hive of estrogen. His reprieve, at least, is his fancy-schmancy office on Wall Street with the other rich guys making themselves more millions and their billionaire clients more billions.
I'll never complain about the bank account - the life I have is cushy as the old shag carpet in my high school bedroom back at Dad's place in Forks. I won't complain, I swear ... except to say everything is joint and I've no money my own two hands have made. Whenever I've mentioned - not complained, mind you - this to Jake, he recommends I volunteer extra hours with the Parent/Teacher Association at the girls' über-snobbish private school. Yeah. Because that will make me some of my own money ... Please note my sarcasm.
Believe me, I don't mind spending Jake's money. I take holidays with my girlfriends in the Hamptons, hop over to Disneyland or Disney World with the girls, winter in the south of France, and plan an extravagant family vacation to the Bahamas annually. It's not the spending or the getting which bothers me; it's the fact that none of this is mine.
"It's ours," Jake tells me. Yeah, ours. But it sure as hell doesn't feel that way. Not when he's the one whose name is on the pay stub.
The girls keep my life busy, a preferable alternative to the idle, fat one I'd lead were they not as invested in extracurricular activities as they are.
Lexie is in soccer. She's as sporty and athletic as her daddy. She and Jake have a special bond I don't pretend to understand. They worship the ground the other walks on. He, even with his busy schedule, is at every single game our seven-year-old plays. He's her biggest fan.
Reny ... For as much as Lexie is Jake's mini-me, Reny is Eddie's daughter. Her musical inclination is superb. Each time I hear her sweet voice echoing from her music room and the tinkling of the piano keys as she plays, I can scarcely breathe around the lump of memories filling my throat with questions.
Maybe it would've worked out for Eddie and I if I hadn't been such a chickenshit. Maybe we were just too young.
There's another world in my mind, one I live in with him and Reny; it's filled with notes and trebles and bass and the most passionate kisses I can remember.
But they're only in my head.
I made my bed, and now I lie beside Jake in it.
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A/N: thank you, ladies, for the recs! You're rocking my world. ❤️
