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Anita, Mary-Jane, and Rosie met every Friday at the same time, in the same corner booth—a steady, comforting tradition that had begun shortly after Ian divorced MJ, and that had, in recent months, grown to include his soon-to-be third ex-wife, Rosie. They called themselves, somewhat unimaginatively, the Ex-Wives Club.
“The food must be good if your exes keep coming back!”
Ian was a much better host than husband.
French people were like cats, Anita had always thought. Elegant, composed, and a little bit terrifying.
Some bosses might have given her a pay raise. Ian made her his girlfriend.
“Was he always such an asshole?” Rosie wondered out loud. “Yes,” MJ said. “Just not to us. It was why we fell in love with him. It made us feel special.”
Handsome, wealthy men didn’t go for women their own age, did they?
Needless to say, if you’re looking to find fault in someone, you tend to find it.
every wife threatens to kill her husband. On a daily basis! Ex-wives do it on an hourly basis!”
“I’m telling you, chicks are all crazy.”
“We’ll donate the money,” Roger told Hilary. “To a charitable organization.” “Which one?” she’d cried. “She didn’t have cancer, Roger. There is no fund for girls who are walking down the street after a party!”
