Single Lady Spy 01 - The End of Me

unbelievable. "She's an amazing chef." I muttered softly.
    He chuckled, "She is that. It's why I keep her around."
    I rolled my eyes and took another bite, “Yeah, has nothing to do with her tight ass, or perfect face, or fabulous body.”
    He glanced at me sideways, “I told you to watch your mouth. I understand you’re angry, but you can’t direct it at me. I didn’t do it.”
    He was right, being rude about Roxy was petty.
    But no matter how hard I pushed it all away, I couldn’t get past the money. "You know he made me feel like shit for not going back to work. He told me we were going to struggle until I did find a regular wife job, like bank teller. He made me feel like every week was another hard sacrifice for him. Like my house keeping, cooking, baking, and parenting was just a hobby. Sometimes, I drove them to twelve different sports and activities in a week, between them both. I was a chauffeur and slave to all three of them. He made me quit my yearly membership to hot yoga. I had to buy the punch cards and not go all the time."
    I dropped the spoon and covered my eyes, "I am an idiot. I fell for it all. I swore they were just friends. You know, at our wedding they were dancing and she was crying. I thought she was so happy for us. Then later, when I couldn’t find them, either of them, James said his brother was drunk off his ass and he needed him to help him to bed. He said Mel had left; she was being designated driver for people. He tried to make me feel bad for not saying goodbye to her. Arggg!" I shook my head, fighting the tears and losing the battle.
    When I looked at him, he looked horrified.
    I picked up my spoon and started eating again. "Well, I'm done being sorry he died. I'm done being the widow of the great fucking James Evans. I hate my name." I started to laugh like a madwoman, "I hate my name. I was Evie Anderson, before I got married. Evie Evans sounds stupid. My name is Evangeline Erica Evans. Three E's. I liked being an Anderson. I liked being in the military. I liked my life, just the way it was. I didn’t want a baby with an asshole either. He wasn’t the only one, who got something he didn’t plan for. But you know the difference? The difference is, that when it happened I was all in. I didn’t just show up, I was there for it all. My son will never know he wasn’t planned and wanted by both of us. Even if James is alive."
    I closed my eyes again and took deep breaths. I had spent half an hour on my makeup and he wasn’t ruining that too.
    I opened my glassy eyes and pointed my spoon at the poor, helpless drug and arms dealer in front of me, "I am going to kill that fat man and I am going to finish this shit. Then I am taking some of that money, and going on the vacation we haven't been able to afford the last ten years, because I wasn’t working." I cackled like I was crazed and started eating my soup again.
    I muttered crazily about the sacrifices he made to keep us in the custom of life we were used to. The sports and the activities that cut so deeply into our funding. Now I was on a jet with a bad man, eating the most delicious soup I had ever eaten, and lying to clean up his mess. His mess that got him fake killed, so I could be a single parent.
    I pointed my crazy spoon again, “You freeze that account, Servario. You make it so he can’t get a dime. That is going to my kids.”
    I would be a rich, single parent who would never have to worry about money again, or stress about the fact, she didn’t have enough to pay all the bills. A single parent with no husband to cheat and shame her to everyone in the world. A single mother who got to have all the say. No more arguing about our differing parenting.
    I sipped my wine and processed it. I nodded, “This is actually quite good. We will kill the fat man and I will move on.”
    "You're a very scary little thing," he said, as Roxy came back and took our soup bowls.
    "We are going to start taxiing now," she spoke softly and filled our glasses.
    "Thank you," I said again. She gave me a quizzical look.
    I glanced at him, "You never thank her, that’s really rude. And I'm not scary. I'm a regular woman."
    He raised his eyebrows, "I think not. And I thank her with a very large paycheck. Trust me, she is compensated."
    I drank back the wine and watched him, "You don’t look the way I imagined you would," I said softly.
    He gave me a funny look, "What do you remember about me?"
    I shook my head to stop from panicking, it