TOO LATE TO WANT ME

Chapter 1

Skylar's POV

This was the tenth time I called him. He still wasn't picking up.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone screen until his name blurred. There was not a single word from him.

He had not been home for two days. Anytime I brought it up, he always said the same thing. That he was busy with work and I was bothering him too much, because what could a stay-at-home wife really understand about work stress?

As if I had voluntarily decided to stop working. I quit designing dresses so he could be happy.

After I had walked my butt off for his clothing brand to rise from scratch, he suddenly told me to stop coming to work. It would be too shameful to flaunt an obese wife in public. He'd rather employ a personal assistant.

I didn't object to his decision. After all, he wasn't lying.

I wasn't very proud of my looks either. Anytime I looked at myself in the mirror, all I could see was folds and folds of fat, and I had stretch marks everywhere. White lines running across my stomach, my hips, my thighs, like cracks in old ceramic. That was what childbirth had done to me. Two children, and I had a body that felt like it belonged to someone else.

My mother-in-law, on the other hand, did a good job of making me more miserable than I already was.

"Skylar!" Her voice came from downstairs.

"Yes, Mom, I'm coming." I set my phone on the bed and walked out.

She was already at the foot of the stairs when I reached the landing, her arms folded across her chest, her wheelchair parked at an angle like she'd rolled forward just to make a point.

"Rory's friends are coming today. What time is it? 5:30. And you haven't even set the table. You've done nothing. You're just lazy around here."

"I'll get it ready," I sighed.

She rode her wheelchair slowly out of the kitchen without another word, as if even the sight of me was tiring.

Rory and Ethan sat at the dining table by 6 o'clock. Rory's friends were there too. Four girls I barely knew, all giggling and laughing about something I didn't find funny. I arranged the plates on the table quietly, then served the macaroni and sauce.

Ethan hadn't eaten two spoonfuls before he spat it into his serviette.

"What's this, Mom?" He looked up at me, his face twisted like I'd put something rotten in front of him. "This doesn't taste good. I don't like it."

"What's wrong with it, Ethan?" I took another bite. Nothing tasted wrong with it at all.

"He's right." Rory grimaced. "I've never eaten something this bad. It's nothing compared to Karen's mom's cooking."

"She's really cool," one of the girls added, and they all nodded.

My chest tightened as Rory continued chattering. Her voice was bright, her hands moving, performing for her friends like I wasn't standing three feet away.

Even my fourteen-year-old daughter and ten-year-old son were saying bad things about me to my face.

My ears burned. "Stop it, both of you," I said, my voice coming out louder than I intended.

"Don't scream at my grandchildren." My mother-in-law's voice cut across the table. She hadn't even looked up from her plate. "You were never a good cook. You should have done a better job with this."

I stood up. If I stayed another minute, I would break down, and I didn't want to break down in front of them . Not in front of Rory's friends, not in front of my own children looking at me like I was the embarrassment at the table.

My mother-in-law glared at me.

"I have to use the bathroom," I said, walking away.

I was barely five steps away when I heard Ethan say, "Watch it! How do you manage to hold that much weight without breaking?" And they all laughed. Their loose, uncontrolled laughter bounced off the walls and followed me down the hallway.

I locked the bathroom door and sat on the closed toilet lid. I didn't cry. I just sat there with my hands in my lap, listening to the muffled sounds of laughter from the dining room until they faded into nothing.

By the time I came back, Rory's friends were preparing to leave.

"Hold on, let me grab a few things." Rory almost skipped past me toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?" I blocked her.

"I'm going to a sleepover at Karen's."

"Why didn't you tell me about it?"

"Oh please, leave her alone." My mother-in-law's voice drifted in from the sitting room. "Her dad said she could go. Let her have fun."

Her dad. Who hadn't picked up my calls in two days.

"Come here, darling." Rory went over and my mother-in-law planted a kiss on her forehead, smoothing a hand down her hair with a tenderness she had never once aimed in my direction. Next thing, Rory was out the door with her friends, laughter trailing behind her like a ribbon.

Ethan went to his room as well without a word to me.

The house went quiet. A different kind of quiet. Not peaceful, but hollow.

"I'm tired. Take me upstairs."

I was short of words, but I wheeled her up anyway. The chair was heavier than usual, or maybe my arms were just tired. At the top of the stairs, I stopped to adjust my grip on the handles.

That was when the thought came.

What if I just pushed her off? One small release of my hands. After all, she deserved that much. I was the one who took her to every doctor's appointment. Diabetes check-ups, physiotherapy, the specialist across town she complained about the entire drive there and back. I made sure she took every single one of her meds. I tracked them in a notebook. And not once had she said thank you.

Snap out of it, I told myself, gripping the handles tighter.

Why was I thinking such things? Maybe this horrible evening was getting to my head. Maybe I was more exhausted than I knew.

After I tucked her in and switched off her lamp, I went to my own bedroom and closed the door behind me.

My mother-in-law had just told Rory that her dad approved the sleepover. Jason had apparently found time to call his mother and give his daughter permission to spend the night awa, but he hadn't found a single second to reply to any of my messages.

What exactly had I done wrong?

I swallowed hard and picked up my phone. There were notifications I had missed while I was in the bathroom.

I tapped the first one and my mouth fell open.

My hands trembled slightly as I stared at the screen. Was I seeing this clearly, or was stress still playing tricks on my head? I zoomed in on the image, hoping I was wrong. Hoping it was a misunderstanding.

There it was. Jason, in a hotel lounge, with his secretary. His lips were closed around her left nipple.