Marital Bitch Read Online Free

full attention, “and he is smitten with you. I can tell these things. You young girls want it all, what you don’t know is that nobody can have it all and still be happy.” Brad is grinning and the woman quickly turns to him and berates him about what being a proper suitor means. She tells him that if he has any decency that he will marry me tonight. I scoff, but Brad promises her that were I to agree, he would have married me long ago. Like I said, he’s charming. But he’s also full of shit.
    “How old are you?” she asks.
    “Thirty-five,” I say, hating the way it sounds. I just want to get out of here, but Brad’s on a roll. She looks horrified and begins to tell me that I’m getting up there in years. I’ve been drinking for hours now, nursing my drinks, but it’s getting to me. My mind is getting fuzzy.
    Her words sting me in a way I’m loathe to admit. I thought that if I worked hard, I could be an attorney and still have a husband and kids. I had a plan. It was a rough plan, but according to my now-defunct plan, I should have been married by now and I should have already had two children. I never thought I would be alone at thirty-five. Unfortunately, the only men I spend any amount of time with are family or the very married attorneys at my firm, or Brad. I have no prospects and I think I’m starting to give off that vibe of desperation.
    “My sister never married,” the old bitty says. Her voice is gentle and high-pitched, but her words reek of judgment. “She was a spinster at thirty-five.” I nervously laugh her off and avoid eye contact with everyone around me. Brad isn’t laughing anymore. He places his hand on my back. He knows I’m upset and in this very public place there is little he can do about it. He knows that being alone and unmarried at thirty-five has always been a fear of mine—which has now become a reality.
    “Men don’t look at you the same once you’re in your thirties,” she adds. Her words are spaced out and I can tell she’s regretting saying anything at all. I suck back the tears that threaten to spill and pick my head up. I’m training as a closer at the firm. I know how to hold my own, but Nate & Caldwell don’t train you to handle little old ladies with big mouths. I need more practice. “But you’ve known that for a while now, haven’t you?”
    “Let’s go back to the bar , pretty girl. I want another beer,” Brad says.
    “Sure ,” I put on my best smile and we excuse ourselves, taking our meager winnings with us. I start heading back to the bar, but Brad steers me outside. The hot air in Las Vegas is in stark contrast to the biting wind chill we experienced at six a.m., back in Boston. There is no wind here in the desert, just this miserable, dry heat. Only the heat and the dust, and the glow of the strip surround us.
    I thought I would feel better, less on edge, once we were alone. But I just feel vulnerable, and old, and so very alone. Women who are married, especially the ones who have been married for decades, have this way of forgetting their own struggles being single. Even Lindsay seems to forget how she used to bemoan the dating scene. They don’t understand being a thirty-five year old woman and being alone. How could they?
    “You okay, pretty girl?” Brad has his arm around my shoulder, comfortably tucking me into his side. I nod weakly. He sighs.
    “L ook, you aren’t any of those things that old woman said, okay?” I break out into a pathetic wash of tears at his words. He wraps both of his arms around me and holds me to him, tight. My tears soak his button-up. Petty arguments aside, he is always here for me. I collapse into him, sobbing.
    I wanted so much and I thought that if I just worked hard enough, it would come to me. I didn’t account for the 70-hour work weeks or the emotional demand that being a baby lawyer would take on me. At the en d of a work week, assuming I take a day off that week, I’m much too exhausted to even