In Love Again Read Free Page A

villainous.”
    Claire looked up at Bronte, there in Sarah’s office, taking in her barely contained energy, her vitality. “Well, it looks as if his solicitor or the courts have frozen all of our assets.”
    “Are you fucking kidding me?” Bronte was in the midst of pouring herself a glass of champagne. She finished pouring, then paused and placed one hand on her hip, turning to face Claire. “How is that even possible? Your legal system is a shit show.”
    “Oh, it’s possible all right.” Claire looked up at the ceiling, pretending she was interested in the plasterwork rather than staving off tears.
    “Don’t you dare cry about him!” Bronte barked. “He’s such a douchebag.”
    “Bronte!” Sarah cried.
    “What? It’s the truth.” Bronte shrugged at Sarah then turned to Claire with more concern. “I know you know he is. Don’t you?”
    “Yes. Of course.” Claire sighed, because even now she had to force herself to face facts rather than the idea of what she had always believed her life was supposed to be. “But—”
    “But nothing,” Bronte interrupted, thinking she was being supportive.
    “But Bron, seriously, he’s the father of my only child. All those years that I thought he was…decent.”
    Bronte pressed on. “That’s what makes him even more reprehensible. Think about it. All those years . All those years of you doing your good works and helping your father and mother and tending to Freddy’s whims. And what’s the thanks he gives you?”
    “I know,” Claire said, willing herself not to weep, to be practical. “But if it was all a lie to him, then it was all a lie. My life—” She choked and took another sip of her champagne.
    Bronte sat in the chair closest to Claire’s and pulled her free hand into hers. “Your life has not been a lie. He’s the bastard for making you think so. You have a beautiful home. You have a beautiful daughter.”
    Claire smirked.
    “Well, Lydia is salvageable,” Bronte hedged. “She’s a bit of a handful, but she has spunk. And she is half you, so she knows the difference between right and wrong. Maybe Abby will set her straight.”
    “At least I don’t have to worry about her for a while.” Claire’s youngest sister, Abigail Heyworth, had started a foundation to educate young women in sub-Saharan Africa, and Lydia had been recruited into service after she announced she was dropping out of university following one lackluster year. Lydia was traveling around different African villages with her Aunt Abby for the summer.
    “Exactly. Focus on yourself,” Sarah chimed in. “Get a job.”
    An abrupt silence descended over the bright office. Night had fallen outside the dark wall of windows, and the interior sparkled with the tiny halogen ceiling lights against the chrome-accented furniture. All three women sat frozen.
    “What?” Sarah finally cried. “Like it’s a four-letter word or something? Repeat after me. J. O. B. Job.”
    Bronte smiled and swirled her champagne glass slowly.
    Sarah must have noticed that she hadn’t taken a sip. “Why aren’t you drinking your champagne, Bron?”
    “No reason.” But she still didn’t take a sip.
    Claire clasped her hands. “Oh! Are you going to have another baby?”
    Sarah sputtered. “Wait? What!”
    Bronte smiled and looked a bit sheepish. “Two babies, actually.”
    “What? Twins? Oh, that’s the most wonderful news!” Claire leapt up and hugged her hard. “Why didn’t you tell us straight away? It’s so much more exciting than my dismal divorce. You are quite terrible for keeping it from us.”
    “It’s all pretty new. We haven’t told a soul.”
    Sarah hugged her next and suddenly started crying.
    “Oh my god, Sarah!” Bronte grabbed her by the shoulders. “I’m not dying. I’m pregnant. Why are you crying?”
    “We’re not all as emotionally cut-and-dried as you are, Bron, all right?” Sarah grabbed a tissue off her desk and started dabbing at her eyes.
    “Oh, sweetie.