Kristina was let go. Since I haven’t been on Mike’s good side lately I couldn’t save her. We knew something was up when Paige scheduled a “Performance Conversation” for a Friday afternoon, but I figured she was just getting some feedback. But then at the last minute, Paige added our HR manager to the invite and I knew something big was happening. I had a separate meeting at the time same as Kristina’s but watched from my office door anxiously, waiting for her to go past. Kristina’s blonde hair and pastel colored striped sweater flew by my door and I immediately ended my call.

“Kristina!” I hissed, chasing her all the way to her cubicle.

She began pushing stacks of papers in the recycling bin. “Paige is such a bitch. She said I don’t have the skills required to my job. And I’m not qualified to do anything else so…I’m leaving.”

The nerve of Paige – as if she’s qualified for anything. And I could not believe Mike was having Paige do his dirty work. So after I helped Kristina pack up and walked her out, I texted Mike. He was obviously already gone for the day.

“You could have given me a heads up about Kristina. I was still working with her like you asked. Paige was super rude to her, by the way. Basically told her she has no talent. I think that’s a bit unnecessary,” I said.

Mike replied, “I know Kristina is your friend, but this is just business. It’s nothing personal and we wish her the best.”

I rolled my eyes at his politically correct answer. I wasn’t going to say anything back, but then Mike texted again.

“I’m sorry for not warning you. I didn’t expect this to happen today, but I still should have told you it was coming.”

And when I didn’t respond, he said, “We can talk more on Monday.”

So without Kristina, I’ve been leaning on Sam a lot to keep me company. She doesn’t trust me enough to talk shit though (even though it’s all I do) and Brendan, bless his heart, is so wrapped up in his soon to be ex-wife that it’s exhausting. I just want to slap some sense into him – she’s playing with you! Move on! Her latest stunt was sending him a picture of her and a bunch of other people and she was draped all over this nauseatingly preppy guy who was wearing boat shoes and had a gross combover hairstyle. He looked like one of the Trump kids.

“Sorry, wrong text,” she said and that shook Brendan up for days. I had to avoid him because I just couldn’t handle it.

Luckily though, I’ve been busy with things at home. Brady has been obsessed with me lately. I gave him a little snippet of my lunch with his mother (I couldn’t tell him everything – I was embarrassed) and he’s been trying to make up for it since. He usually comes home before 8PM with takeout and advice he’s gotten from the moms at work.

“Let’s ask Dr. Sabrina about this at our next appointment,” he’d say. Our appointment.

Normally after dinner, we sit on the couch watching complete trash on TV (my favorite) while Brady massages my tummy or feet and stares at me. He tries to talk to me (“One of the moms asked if we have taken any parenting classes. Do you think that is something we should explore?” “I ordered some nightlights. We forgot to add that to the registry. These ones are cool because…”), but I’m way too into my shows and end up ignoring him.

One night, he came home and I was sitting at the bar area after FaceTiming Kendra. Brady sat the takeout bag down and then rushed over to me like he was on a mission to kiss me. Obviously I have not been interested in doing anything sexually with Brady for the past four months (I just cannot get in the mood with Brady, but fantasize about Brendan and sometimes Hunter almost every night. Plus I don’t feel sexy now that my breasts have ballooned to the size of my head) and I kind of felt bad for him. When he kisses me, I literally run away. So I figured I’d better give something before he went looking for it elsewhere.

“I missed you all day,” he mumbled as I reached for his belt. He rubbed my shoulders as I undid his belt and zipper, his perfect penis springing out. I actually hadn’t even seen it in so long. I wrapped my hand around Brady’s dick and he moaned at me just touching it.

I don’t know what I planned to do (I certainly wasn’t going to let him see my fat ass naked), but I stroked his penis maybe four times and he came. It came oozing out like candle wax.

“Um, sorry,” Brady said backing away. Poor guy. He was obviously embarrassed for coming so quickly. I just feel bad for depriving him for so long. But I secretly hoped that would hold him over for a while because I am just not interested right now. Hopefully that passes eventually.

We went back to look at the house I liked in Connecticut again. I can’t wrap my head around moving out of the city and into a little suburb, but I figured I need to consider it. I walked room to room deciding where I’d put furniture (and what furniture we need to buy), what colors I’d want to paint, visualizing us living in the space. I was annoyed that I really liked it. We sat with the father of one of Brady’s friends who does mortgages for a living. He pulled up a calculator that showed us how much our monthly payments would be after the massive down payment Brady suggested.

“How much were you thinking of putting down?” the dad asked.

Brady replied, “20%.” And 20% of the cost of that house made me lightheaded. It’s literally twice what I make in a year.

But we haven’t pulled the trigger yet. When I think of moving to Connecticut, I feel like crying. It’s just so not me. But maybe it needs to be me now that we are having a baby.

One evening Brady was asking me if I wanted to put an offer in on the house as he usually did every other day.

“Mmmm. Maybe,” I said, instantly feeling anxious at the thought of moving and anxious at the thought of having no where to move to.

“You know, my parents offered their apartment to us. I realize it’s not ideal, but we are running out time here,” Brady said. “They won’t be around since they aren’t in the city as much and it will buy us some time.”

I made a face and then shook my head. I pictured their boring, but huge Park Ave apartment and then immediately imagined sharing a space with Brady’s mom. Brady’s mom all but called me a gold digger so I will not be accepting anything from her. I’d rather stay in this one bedroom apartment.

He shrugged. “Well, it’s an option.”

It is 100% not an option.

Brady was in Chicago over the weekend. I was not in any shape to tag along so I stayed in New York and my mom came to spend the weekend with me. I was excited to spend time with her so she could assure me that everything will be okay. As crazy as my mom is, she’s a therapist and can normally make me feel better. She arrived on Friday night and the three of us went to dinner before Brady left Saturday morning. My mom did her usual interrogation of Brady – is he still nervous? Does he feel ready? What does he need to feel ready? How does he feel about his mother’s actions? Are his parents planning to have a close relationship with the baby?

They split of a bottle of wine and Brady started talking more, letting my mom know that he was embarrassed about the way his mom treated me (without even knowing the extent of it) and has become numb to his parents’ words. He said he’s really only concerned about my and his own happiness, but that his mother wants to be supportive. Brady used to always be really vocal about not being close with his parents and purposely keeping his distance. And now he seems to think their actions are acceptable, we both just need to deal with it because they will be around anyway. Which is exactly why I will not want to take them up on their offer to stay in their apartment.

On Saturday, my mom and I went shopping a bit, looked at an apartment, picked up a ton of groceries and finally went to an Italian for dinner. Brady had been day drinking at a party and blowing up my phone all day.

I finally picked up and heard Brady saying, “Hold on, hold on, I gotta call Reese.”

By the way he was slurring, I could tell exactly how much he’d had to drink (around 14 beers and a couple of shots, probably both whiskey and tequila).

“I gotta call Reese,” I heard a girl say in a mocking voice in the background. It sounded loud – I could hear a lot of people talking and glasses clinking.

“Who the hell is that?” I demanded.

“Hold on.” There was shuffling and then Brady came back to the line. “I miss you. I wish you were here.”

“Where are you?” I needed to know.

“At the bar.” It sounded like he was sipping a drink. “Kendra’s here.”

“I don’t think bar is a good place for a woman who is six months pregnant. Who were you just talking to?”

“What?”

“What? Who were you just talking to? She said my name.”

“Uhh, I don’t know. It doesn’t even matter.”

“It does matter. Don’t call back until you figure out.” I hung up.

I really just didn’t feel like dealing with Drunk Brady and I knew that I’d find out who all was at the bar from Kendra anyway.

At dinner, my mom revealed that she’d reached out to Brady’s mom and we had plans to join them for church the next morning.

“After the conversation we had last night, I felt bad. Someone’s gotta talk some sense into them and I want to help,” she explained.

“I can’t believe you think you can help these people! His mother is a monster,” I said.

My mom grabbed my hand. “Honey, you can’t give up on people. They are your daughter’s family.”

“Do they deserve your help, Mom? They choose to be this way! It’s not like they don’t know any better.”

“Baby. I’ve always taught you empathy. We have no idea what they must be feeling and it’s our duty to find out. If she’s still horrible after this meeting, you have my permission to distance yourself.”

So the plan was set.

** Sorry to have been away for so long. Obviously I have been busy. I’ll pick up where this left off on Sunday.