The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 23

“Honey, I’d love some soup.”

Penelope turned to Zebulon, pouting playfully as she held out the ladle to him.

Zebulon knew his wife and his mother were at it again, but he couldn’t help but relish the moments when Penelope needed him, when she acted so endearingly.

“Of course.”

He took the ladle and her bowl, deliberately walking around the table, ignoring his mother’s thunderous expression as he served Penelope a generous helping of soup.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

Penelope took a sip and let out an exaggerated sigh of delight. “Wow, this is delicious! But mostly because you served it to me, darling. It’s filled with your love, and that’s what makes it taste so good.”

“When you’re done, I’ll get you more.”

“I want some scallops.”

Mrs. Sullivan had strategically placed the scallops right in front of Rebecca, forcing Zebulon to stand up and reach across the table. Seeing this, Rebecca’s face soured as she begrudgingly pushed the platter closer to them.

Penelope took one bite, decided she didn't like it, and dropped it into Zebulon's bowl. He promptly ate it with a look of blissful contentment.

“I want some beef.”

Penelope stopped reaching for food altogether. She simply stated her desires, and Zebulon would immediately place them in her bowl. If she’d wanted, he probably would have fed her by hand.

“Anything else?”

“I’m craving shrimp, but I don’t want to peel them.”

“I’ll do it for you.”

Zebulon placed several large shrimp on his own plate, peeled each one meticulously, and then transferred the succulent meat to Penelope’s bowl. As she ate, she praised his technique, marveling at how perfectly he’d shelled them.

Across the table, a vein was visibly throbbing on Mrs. Sullivan’s forehead. Rebecca stared down at her plate, her eyes likely red with jealousy.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Mrs. Sullivan said, her frown deepening.

“No, I just feel so bad for her!” Penelope continued, her voice filled with feigned sympathy. “You have no idea how much Rebecca loved Keith back then, how much she sacrificed for him.”

“Penelope, let’s not talk about the past,” Rebecca pleaded, a hint of panic in her voice.

“I have to! It’s not fair to you! Remember when you moved out of our dorm to be with Keith? You rented that tiny, run-down studio apartment in that seedy part of town. I came to visit you once. You two were so broke you had to share a single pillow and a twin-sized blanket. The room didn’t even have a balcony, so you had nowhere to hang your laundry. Your lingerie was hanging right next to his boxers…”

“Penelope!”

“And that was nothing! To support him, you took a job as a cocktail waitress at that dive bar. You were constantly being groped by drunks. I remember one time, some old creep cornered you and dragged you into the alley. He almost…”

“Shut up!” Rebecca shot up from her chair, bumping the table so hard that the glasses and plates rattled.

A full glass of whiskey in front of Mr. Sullivan toppled over, splashing its contents all over his trousers.