Her cheeks flushed.
“I only want what’s best for you, Simmy.”
Then she looked directly at me.
“My son deserves a more attractive woman.”
Something inside me went completely still.
I looked at Simon.
But suddenly, I didn’t want anyone defending me.
I didn’t want to stand in the middle of somebody else’s anniversary celebration while an entire room debated whether my postpartum body was acceptable.
“I need the restroom.”
Simon reached toward me.
“Jen…”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
But I desperately needed five minutes alone.
Inside the restroom, I
