Chapter 3 - The RulesThe anniversary dinner was held at an upscale restaurant outside the city, in a private dining room bigger than the apartment Simon and I first shared. Camille loved events like that. She especially loved rules — women in blue or black, men in tuxedos, no patterned ties, no casual jackets, professional photos at exactly 7:30, a formal family portrait before dessert. She'd emailed everyone a three-page schedule.
When we arrived, my father-in-law, Rowan, spotted us first. "There they are!" He crossed the room and hugged Simon, then turned to me. "You look lovely, Jennifer."
"Thank you."
Then Camille saw me. Her eyes dropped straight to my dress. "That is NOT what I ordered."
"No," I said calmly.
She looked me up and down. "I can see that."
Simon stepped closer beside me. I kept my voice polite. "The other dress didn't fit."
"It would have if you had listened to me."
Rowan looked between us. "Camille…"
"What? I'm not going to lie to her." She pinched the fabric near her own waist. "This dress doesn't flatter you either. It looks cheap."
Simon's voice cut across the room. "Mom. Enough."
Everything went quiet. Camille stared at him. "I'm trying to help your wife."
"No. You're insulting my wife."
Her cheeks flushed. "I only want what's best for you, Simmy." Then she looked straight at me. "My son deserves a more attractive woman."
Something in 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 party while a whole room debated whether my postpartum body was acceptable.
"I need the restroom."
"Jen—"
May you like
"I'm fine."
I wasn't. But I needed five minutes alone.
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