“You didn’t shy away from a millionaire CEO.”

“CFO.”

“The guy’s family owns the damn company. Is there a difference?” She raised a brow and I had no argument. “You married that shit. Like, fuck yeah, Aiden King wants to marry my trailer-park ass.”

Laughter escaped me. That wasn’t exactly what had gone through my mind. I’d been too afraid to question it.

“Then,” she continued, “you’re like, my trailer-park ass deserves better and I’m not gonna take your money. The librarian is dumping the prince. Baller, lady. Baller.” She whispered, “I don’t know if the kids say that anymore.”

“Probably not.” I hadn’t talked much about my divorce, and this was the first chance Sophie and I had had to chat. She didn’t know the divorce was on pause. “We’ve decided to take some time.”

She stared at me. “You have the papers all drawn up.”

I avoided her gaze. “We’ve been talking. About stuff that we’ve never spoken about before.”

We reached an intersection and simultaneously turned right.

“Kate.” Her brows were pinched. “I don’t want to interfere. It’s just that my first husband and I tried to work it out. A few times. Each time I was so hopeful, but really, all I did was put my happiness on hold. I almost did it again, and I would’ve missed my chance with Jason if I had.” She gave my arm a squeeze. “I’d love you two working things out, but I also know you haven’t been the same since you’ve been with him.”

I stopped. “What do you mean?” Aiden had said something similar the other night. That I hid what I was really feeling around him.

She stopped and scanned the neighborhood, but her expression was hesitant. “I mean…you’re always dressed like you’re ready to go to work. You wear makeup on the regular. Your clothes are nice, and I mean, mine would be too if I had your lifestyle, but you don’t”—she twirled her hand around as if she was trying to conjure the right words—“let your hair down anymore. Even when Aiden’s not around.”

My brows pinched together. I hated that I knew exactly what she was talking about.

She leaned closer. “Has he ever held your hair while you puked?” My expression must’ve looked as horrified as I felt. “Exactly. You’d probably lock the bathroom door and die before you let him smell a body odor that wasn’t Chanel No. 5 or some fancy shit like that.”

“I’m not that bad,” I muttered.

“You know what Jason did for me when I was pregnant with Caleb? Prenatal vitamins made me nauseous. And how I found out was driving to work after I took one with breakfast. Imagine getting off the interstate as you’re vomiting into your shirt.”

“Oh my gosh.”