Slightly South of Simple (Peachtree Bluff, #1)

by Kristy Woodson Harvey

I was a lot. I knew it. I had a sassy attitude and a bad temper, but I loved him. Loved him. And he always said that was what he loved most about me. I challenged him. I put him in his place. I made him work. And the way he looked at me, like I was the only woman in the world… Well, let’s just say I never imagined that he would do this to me. It made me want to crawl into a hole and die.

No. I didn’t hate James. Not really. Not even in that moment. James had broken my heart. Shattered my world. Shattered my child’s world. There was a difference.

Of course, all I wanted to do was talk to her. But I understood her point of view. When you call your mom, you fall apart. She couldn’t fall apart. My heart was breaking for her.

mothers don’t say “I told you so.” Well, at least the good ones. Instead, we bring our children home, soothe their wounds, and tell them how wonderful they are until they’re ready to go back into the world. And so that was what I would do.

Even back then, you could tell that she was the most beautiful one. As vain as I was, it didn’t bother me. She was my pet. I was proud that she was beautiful. I felt like somehow, when people stopped on the street to comment about how stunning she was, it was as though I had done something good.

I felt that familiar pain around my heart even thinking about that time in my life, that pulsating feeling like it was literally breaking in two. It was a feeling I had never known until Carter died, one I had believed to be something that sounded romantic, a figment of some gifted writer’s imagination. But once you’ve felt it, once you know what it’s like for your emotional pain to be so deep that it becomes physical, you never forget it.

By the time Emerson was eighteen, she was already in LA, out on her own, going to audition after audition. Plus, Caroline was settled enough that I knew she would take care of Emerson. In some ways, I felt like Caroline had had as big an impact on her life as I had. Caroline was certainly the one always pushing Emmy to follow her dreams. That was the dichotomy of my eldest daughter, the thing you wouldn’t expect. She’s so brash and headstrong that you would assume she was selfish. But she wants everyone to do well and be happy. It took me a while to realize it, but when she does those things—like sending me the cellulite cream—that seem like the bitchiest things in the world, she does them because she knows you will be happier if your arms are more toned. I admire her for that. She is truly pleased to see the people in her life find success.

She was so thin. I loved thin. Thin was good in my book. But she was too thin. That was the part that scared me the most about her job. The pressure to be perfect was too much. I was always afraid it would get to her. Looking at her now, I couldn’t help but think that it had. But this was a very sensitive topic with Emerson. You couldn’t just bring it up.

Those big blue eyes, just like Mom’s. When you saw her on-screen, she was stunning. In real life, she was almost so beautiful you had to look away. It was like a light so bright you’re afraid it will burn your eyes.

I couldn’t imagine it, starting over again. I hadn’t been on a date since James and I got married, hadn’t slept with a man who wasn’t my husband. I couldn’t envision having to become that comfortable with someone again, having to get to know him, fall in love. In some ways, I couldn’t fathom that it was possible. And so I guess I understood my mom a bit better. Opening your heart again, letting someone in after you knew what intense damage was possible… It was scary, to say the least.

being without him was like becoming an entirely different person, rewriting the last thirteen years of my life and my entire future. And it occurred to me how much I wished I could stay in the same story. Rewind a few years and replay an old sweet song that I had come to love so very much.

I may have avoided his hand, but there was no way to shirk his wrapping me in that same hug he had all those years ago. I’ve never given much thought to hugs. But Jack’s was one you never forgot. It was an earnest hug, a comforting one, like being wrapped in an afghan a beloved relative had knitted just for you. I inhaled deeply, remembering the smell of him, a mix of sunscreen, Old Spice, beer, and wood. I relaxed into him, as if by memory, and then scolded myself for it.

I would pretend that he was painting the sunset for me, sending it down from heaven to make me feel like all was not lost.

He wasn’t handsome then. Not like he is now. He was a scrawny sixteen-year-old kid, a line of sweat around his buzz cut. Nope. Not a thing handsome about that kid. But he had something. Swagger. That’s what they would call it now. Back then, we would have said confidence. But either way, I couldn’t possibly forget. He still had it. It was a quality you could see clearly, as though you could reach out and touch it. It was a quality you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

It was there, on that sandbar, over a plate of Mrs. Bennett’s brownies, that Jack’s hand brushed mine for the first time as we both reached for the biggest one on the top. “I remember, too,” Jack said now, interrupting my thoughts. “Those cutoff jean shorts. That yellow-and-white-striped bikini top. Those big hoop earrings. The way you tasted like bubble gum when I kissed you.”

“Well, I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.” I was. Kind of. But really, Jack was mine. He had always been mine. He would always be mine. And that was how I had seen it from that very first night on that sandbar.

Everything inside me wanted to say yes. Everything inside me wanted not to be alone. I wanted to pretend that we were teenagers again. That the world was fresh and new. That we were standing on the edge of everything, that life was out there waiting for us to grab it. But we weren’t. And it wasn’t. And he knew it, too. That’s how he knew I meant it when I said, “No.”

When Carter introduced himself, I suddenly felt the night take a turn.

being wanted by Carter was something akin to being the prize diamond at a Sotheby’s auction. You were suddenly treasured, admired, sought after. You were important, unique. There were no games. There was never a day in my life with him that I didn’t know exactly where we stood, precisely how much I meant to him. That being said, I remembered what he told me that first night. And I most definitely made him work to win me over.

you cannot change a man, and I will not be a woman who tries to trick one into having a life he never wanted.”

as optimistic as he was, the man was a realist. And that was one of the things I loved the very most about him. Because I always, always knew what to expect. He knew how to grill a steak, fix a sink, kill a deer, and give you a kiss so sweet that you forgot your own name.

The worst part about your husband leaving you when you’re pregnant is that there is no alcohol of any kind involved. I mean, how are you supposed to heal when you can’t drink your troubles away? It’s really quite inhumane, if you ask me.

Can we talk? I laughed out loud. No. No, we could not talk. I liked giving him the silent treatment, because I knew the uncertainty of it all would drive him bananas. But I couldn’t help texting back: You have Edie to talk to now. You don’t need me. Don’t be like that. Was he serious? Wow.

I knew they weren’t reveling in my disgrace. Although I wondered if maybe they weren’t a tiny bit happy that I had finally gotten what was coming to me. Because I had, hadn’t I? I always thought in the back of my mind that it had all gone too well for me. The life I wanted had fallen into place a little too easily. It had to blow up sometime, didn’t it? It had blown up badly. And I didn’t have the courage to face it head-on.

“Do you ever wish you could do it all differently?” I asked. “I mean, do you ever wish that you could rewind and take so many things back and add so many others in their place? I keep replaying it.” I paused. “I mean, obviously, I wouldn’t take back meeting James, because then I wouldn’t have Vivi.” I looked down at my stomach. “And this little one. But I question every move I’ve ever made.” Everyone was silent. Emerson and Sloane didn’t say anything, but we all looked at Mom. And you didn’t have to know her as well as we did to realize that she was thinking about all the things she would change if she could.

It was like being a teenager again in a lot of ways. You weren’t even considering sex. Not even kissing, really. Just flirting a little, testing the waters, wondering when your hand would brush his again. When he would say that thing that made you feel special and beautiful all at once. And hoping it wouldn’t be too long.

That was the moment I realized that what you see in movies, what you read about in books, that isn’t the good part. Not at all. The butterflies make you feel giddy and alive, and that’s sweet. But it’s what happens after that really matters. It’s the time you realize that your love has grown exponentially since that first day, when you discover that being someone’s wife, being in it for the long haul, having someone there beside you day in and day out, is so much better than any roses on Valentine’s Day or any first-date jitters you could ever have.

between the exhaustion and the sweet smell of baby, it was impossible not to drift off. I couldn’t move on from the past, and I wasn’t ready to let go of the pain that James had caused me. But I couldn’t help but think, with him on the other side of the bed and Preston between us, that this was the way my life was supposed to turn out.

things gain their meaning when we ascribe meaning to them.

“Caroline is a force of nature,” I said. “She has the strongest personality. She is stubborn and headstrong and a hair obnoxious.” I paused. “But she loves like crazy. Once you’re in with her, you have everything. But when you’re out, you’re out.”

“I think Caroline is the easiest to figure out,” Jack said. “She seems very authentic, like you always know where you stand.” He squeezed the top of my arm. “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

“Sloane is the sweetest,” I said. I thought back to our conversation earlier about Adam. “But I think she might also be the most steadfast, which is surprising. She is persistent, but she’s quiet about it. She gets you to do what she wants, but quite often, you don’t realize what she has done until later. She’s incredibly creative, too, an amazing artist.” I looked out at the sunset, the one that always made me think of my late husband, and said, “Just like Carter.”

That was the difference in being a second-time mother. When Vivi was born, I almost wished part of it away. I was so tired. I was so overwhelmed and consumed with the care of this person that I didn’t savor it like I should have. This time, I knew exactly how quickly he would be riding bikes with his friends. The diaper changes were short. The sleepless nights were short. The breastfeeding was short. And so I was going to savor every day. Or maybe I was getting

I think that’s what hit me the hardest, realizing that her needing me, depending on anyone, was the beginning of the end.

Mom and I had had our share of disagreements in the past, the largest, of course, that she wouldn’t let me come home when I needed her the very most. I never told her how I wished she would have been there more when my girls were young, taken a greater role in their lives. But she had raised her three children. She was finished. I think it was more of an internal struggle I had, a difference in how we parented, in that she continued on with her life and we fit in on the fringes where we could.

I knew that this would be exactly the same thing. I would lose myself again, the self that I had clawed and scraped to recreate after Carter had died, but I would find something else in caring for my mother. Just like when my girls were young, I knew I would never regret one moment I had spent with her, would always cherish that I had been the one to get to be there for her final time on earth, no matter how long that time was. I knew already from being a mother that sometimes the days would be long. Some days would be hard, would wring me out, would lend me that tiredness I felt from the roots of my hair to the soles of my feet. But the years? They would be inexplicably too short. And so, even on the toughest days, I would be grateful. I had the gift of time. I had the privilege of more days to work through our differences, to say the things that so desperately needed to be said.

“It’s going to be harder than hell. But doing the hard thing, even when it hurts, is what makes you strong.”

I might not ever be able to forgive James. And that would be OK. But if I didn’t give our family another shot, I knew I’d never be able to forgive myself.

“It’s not only that he cheated. He told me he didn’t love me anymore. I’m not sure I can get past that.” Caroline looked down at those impeccable shoes. “I’d have to live with him. I’d have to look at the man I pledged my heart and my life to and know that he slept with someone else and, far worse, that he believed he was in love with her and not with me. I’d have to know that I am the laughingstock of New York City, that every time I walk down the street, everyone is saying what a loser I am. Do you know how that feels?” “That’s awful,” Emerson said. “It’s so awful. Maybe you could move somewhere else?”

That was the moment I decided that I was really going to give it a shot. I was not going to make snide comments. I was going to attempt not to hate him so much—although, God, I sure did hate him—and I was going to give this thing a fair shake.

He was treading lightly, as he should have been, because I was incredibly leery of the man. There was no doubt in my mind that if we got back together, I would spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.

With his hand on mine, I felt that spark that I used to feel, that jolt of electricity that made me know that our being together was so right. And it made me realize how long it had been since I had kissed him, made love to him. It was another gamble. Because I might think of Edie Fitzgerald and how my life was shattered, how I had to leave town and come to my mother’s house so as not to be the laughingstock of Manhattan.

“I’m trying, James,” I said. “I swear I am. But this nearly killed me. You can’t imagine how vulnerable you feel when you’re six months pregnant and all alone. It is terrifying. I’m not going to forget that soon. You’re going to have to be patient.”

you didn’t tell me that you were having an affair and you were sorry. You told me you didn’t love me anymore and you were leaving me. How am I supposed to move on from that? How do I know you aren’t going to quit loving me again next week?”

I had spent so much time, understandably, I think, worrying about the outside world, thinking about what people were saying about me and how I looked, that my primary emotion these past few weeks had been humiliation. I hadn’t spent all that much time fully feeling how devastating it was for the person who was supposed to be your everything to cast you off like you were nothing.

“It wasn’t about you. It was about me. I felt like I’d made a mess of my life and I hadn’t amounted to anything or lived up to my expectations. It was like I was breaking out of my rut or something. I made things about us that were really about me.” He took a sip of wine. “This sounds insane, I know, but it was like I was living two separate lives, and I couldn’t process how this would affect you. It was like the whole thing was a delusion, and I was going to get to keep the life I had while still doing this horrible thing.” He shook his head. “You’re right. Whatever I try to say sounds idiotic. But I realized that feeling your heart race because someone famous was giving you all her attention is not love. Someone who has your back, who gets you through the hard times… that’s love.”

and I knew that this hurt so badly because I loved him so much. It felt impossible. I was pretty sure I could never trust him again. But I also knew that I wanted to be with him—although being with him would be forever, unalterably changed. There was no good answer here. It made me feel sick.

“When I figured out what I had really done,” James said, “when I realized that the entire world was going to know that I had destroyed my family, it was like I was running headfirst into a moving train and I couldn’t jump off the tracks to get away. I had to convince myself that I was in love with her, that love had made me do this horrib...

and I knew it was probably too soon. I knew it was something I might regret. But it might be exactly what I needed. Because as much as I loved James for his heart and his head, the physical had always been a big part of our relationship.

I was a hypocrite. I knew that feeling of not wanting to go out and make the effort. I knew firsthand that it was easier to sit at home and eat Lean Cuisines. But I also knew that when you did go, you almost always felt better when you got back.