Single in Suburbia Read Free Page A

bin, dripping faucet, and cracked fun-house mirror afforded no distractions. She spent the first five minutes pacing, the last five perched on top of a cracked toilet lid, and an extra three staring at her distorted reflection in the ancient mirror.
    When she couldn’t put it off any longer, she left the bathroom and walked slowly toward the stands unsure of what she’d do if Rob and Tiffany were still there. She felt some measure of relief when she confirmed that they had, in fact, left. But the way everyone made a point of NOT watching her as she took her seat spoke volumes. And even though all the eyes that had been glued to her earlier were now fixed on the field, Amanda knew the spectacle on the field was nowhere near as interesting to the assembled adults as the one she and Rob had just provided.
    Resolute, she, too, fixed her gaze on the field and sat in silence for the remaining forty-five minutes as Wyatt’s team got pounded into the dirt—an experience with which she could completely relate.
    When the game was over, the stands emptied quickly but whether it was due to the loss, the plunging temperatures, or the desire to avoid having to speak to her, Amanda didn’t know. Wyatt, too, stood apart from his teammates, completely focused on stowing his equipment in his bag while the other boys jostled and joked.
    The cold bit through her leather jacket and useless cashmere sweater, and she hugged herself for warmth and comfort. Hearing the crunch of shoe on dirt, she turned. Hap Mackenzie’s new wife stood beside her, her gray eyes assessing. “Are you OK?”
    “Yeah, I feel great.”
    The other woman sat down uninvited, ignoring the sarcasm. “He won’t stay with that one, you know.”
    Nonplussed, Amanda took a closer look at Brooke Mackenzie. She was somewhere in her late twenties with thick auburn hair and creamy unwrinkled skin. Last spring when the recently divorced Hap had married a girl nearly half his age, they’d all been scandalized. Amanda had never said more than a polite hello to her.
    “Too flashy,” the new Mrs. Mackenzie said. “She’s perfect for running around, but sooner or later he’s going to expect someone to cook and clean and take his shirts to the dry cleaner. That one’s not going to be able to pull it off.”
    “And that’s when I get him back?”
    The redhead studied her. “No, that’s when he picks a slightly more domesticated version of her and marries her .”
    “Gee, now I know why we’ve never talked before.”
    Brooke shrugged. “Sorry. I could tell you the statistics but they’re even more depressing.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Don’t mention it.” She smiled and it changed her whole face; the careful gray eyes lit with warmth and the Angelina Jolie lips twitched upward. “If it’ll make you feel better, it won’t take him long to start treating her exactly like he’s treating you. They only seem to have two settings.” She flicked an imaginary dial. “Wife or girlfriend.”
    Amanda smiled back. “Now there’s a real day brightener.”
    “Of course, the wife gets more of his time plus the accompanying perks and status. But, frankly, I think the girlfriend gets a whole lot more respect and consideration.”
    “You can say that again.”
    They both looked up to see Candace Sugarman standing several rows in front of them. The coach’s girlfriend was tall and blonde with a carefully preserved face and figure. She had an innate elegance that belonged on the pages of Town and Country , but Amanda couldn’t tell on which side of forty she fell. “I’ve been both and unless she’s got a great attorney, the wife always comes out the loser.”
    “Boy you two are just what a wounded woman needs. What are your nicknames: Sweetness and Light?” Amanda looked around. The coach was shepherding his son and Wyatt and Brooke Mackenzie’s stepson out of the dugout. Everyone else had gone.
    Not one of her so-called friends had stayed around to console her.
    Candace