002 Why Do I Feel Like the Other Woman?

(Serena)

Then James finally, finally sees me.

“Savannah, this is my wife, Serena.” He steps away from her and moves closer to me.

I hate how similar our name is. That sentence is like a tongue twister.

Savannah turns to look at me like she’s only now remembering I exist. 

“Oh my God,” she says, wide-eyed. “This is your wife?”

There’s a pause. Too long.

Is James embarrassed to admit who I am in front of her?

“Yes,” James says finally.

And she just… laughs. Soft and sweet, like it’s all one big rom-com misunderstanding. 

“Oh my! I didn’t mean anything by what I said! I panicked! Being single and pregnant, you learn to fake confidence. Protect yourself.” She pats her belly like a prop. 

Then Savannah melts into James arms again, blaming me. “I was in shock. You can’t imagine how terrifying it was. The way she came at me—”

“Enough,” James says, glancing between us.

I stare at her as James squeezes my shoulder. “Just a misunderstanding. You understand, don’t you, Serena?”

I want to scream.

“That’s the least of my worries, James. She stepped off the curb,” I say quietly, “either one of us could’ve been seriously hurt.”

James looks at me then — really looks at me — and I see it. 

Worry. Guilt. But is it for me or for her?

I try to swallow the bitter taste in my mouth. I feel like he’s putting me second over her. I shouldn’t have to feel like that. 

I always come second to his business, now to his ex.

That hurts so much.

She blinks at me, innocent as a soap opera villain. “I was just trying to get a taxi back to my hotel. I’m sorry if I’ve caused trouble.”

I just stare at her. Her hand is still on his arm.

She laughs again, brushing a lock of blonde hair off her flawless face. “How funny, I mean, what are the chances? But your poor little car, lucky it’s nothing special. You really should be more observant, Serena.”

Nothing special? That was the first car I bought with my own savings!

“Or maybe you should be more careful, Savannah. ” James tells her, he moves away from her and comes over to me. “Let’s all get out of here. I’ll drive.”

Right. 

Because my “nothing special” car is currently hugging a lamp post. 

Because of her. 

But he did back me, so that feels good. 

I’m not sure what her story is yet but she is not being honest that’s for sure.

A company SUV shows up and a driver gets out and leaves it running.

James heads for the driver’s seat.

Savannah immediately walks to the passenger side and climbs in the front seat.

“I really need the legroom,” she says with a smile. “These feet are the size of watermelons today. You understand, don’t you?”

I wait for James to say something, but he doesn’t say a word. 

I swallow my pride and my anger in one go. “Sure.”

The ride is… unbearable. I want to strangle her.

Savannah talks the entire way. 

About her swollen ankles, about how she can't wait to take a bath and light some candles. 

About how she grew up here and what amazing friends she and James were.

How she’s looking to settle down here again.

“He must have told you all about me.” Her words echo in my head.

No, no he never did.

He nods along with her stories, smiling occasionally, he seems totally oblivious to her loaded words.

She is clearly making a claim here. That she came first. My husband was hers first.

And he doesn’t see it.

And when we finally pull up to her hotel, she turns to James and touches his arm. “Thank you for being here,” she says, her voice suddenly soft. “You’re always rescuing me lately.”

Always rescuing her lately?

“I’ll get your door.” He climbs out. 

Savannah turns back to me before he opens her door. “You’ve got a good man here. Take care of him.” She steps out onto the pavement.

“I do,” I reply.

James now has my door open. “Yes, she really does look after me.” He gives me a wink and I hold his arm as I get out.

Savannah watches me. “I’m really sorry about the confusion earlier, Serena. I just didn’t want to seem like a helpless pregnant woman, so I said I had a husband. Panic and hormones. Total overreaction. I hope we can be friends.”

“Sure,” I say, forcing a tight smile. “No problem.”

And she heads into her hotel, finally.

I get in the front seat and he shuts my door and goes to the driver’s seat. 

I’m quiet the rest of the ride. 

I just can’t be bothered arguing with him now. I mean she apologized and I don’t want to overthink this.

I get the urge to tell him I’m pregnant, as if that will claim him as really mine somehow. 

But I stay quiet. The timing is just not right.

We are at the venue now and I want to make the most of my time with my husband. Work comes first far too much so I’m not ruining this night with petty jealousy. 

The Imperial Hotel is dripping in luxury. We reach the elevator, and he hits the top floor button.

“Where are we going?”

“I booked us the penthouse suite,” he says. “Surprise!”

When the elevator doors open, this place is like a palace. It’s filled with red rose buds and battery candles glowing. And there’s a team waiting to swing into action.

“James,” I whisper, stunned. “You didn’t have to do all this.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. “I want tonight to feel special.”

And just like that, the cracks start to seal over.

“I’m sorry about Savannah. I should have told you she was in town.”

“That would be nice.”

“Yeah. Look, she’s just fallen on a rough patch. She’s still an old family friend. We grew up together. We haven’t been in touch until now.”

I sigh. Well, he isn’t responsible for her actions. 

I need to shake this off. 

I want us to have a wonderful night. 

I want to be able to share my joy with him about our baby later tonight. 

“Let’s just enjoy the evening.”

***

My makeup is flawless. Hair perfect. 

My husband looks like sin in a tux. Tall. Handsome. And mine.

We walk the red carpet together, and for a moment, a single, shining moment, I really belong.

Then I stumble. 

Just a little, but it’s enough to make James reach out and steady me. “I got you.” He smiles back.

It’s okay. I’m okay.

Until I see her. Glaring at me like I’ve murdered everyone important to her.  

Margot Hale.

James’s mother.

I brace myself and smile as I approach. “Margot,” I say. “You look beautiful tonight.”

She gives me a cool smile. It barely touches her lips. “As do you, my dear. Although, I prefer a more subtle shade on you. Never mind.”

Of course.

James leans in and whispers in my ear, “don’t listen to her fashion advice. She still wears matching leopard print leisure suits.”

I give a small giggle and squeeze his hand.

Margot’s eyes sweep past me. And then she smiles, wide and warm.

“Now this,” she says loud enough for the nearby guests to hear, “this is how a woman should arrive. Flawless.”

I turn.

Are you kidding me right now?

Savannah is halfway along the red carpet, alone but effortless chic.

She’s glowing in silver and wearing her perfect baby bump like the latest must-have fashion accessory.