I kind of felt that I was on thin ice after Brendan took the Instagram pictures down so I was on my very best behavior after the wedding. The next day, Jasmine and I FaceTimed before Brendan and I took off back to the city. She asked if I’d apologized to him and when I told her that I hadn’t, she said I should. I was like, oh so it must’ve been really bad because I didn’t even think Jasmine was paying attention and she never gives me relationship advice.

Brendan didn’t seem mad and had even spent the morning reviewing accomodations with me for yet another vacation we would be taking in a few months. But still, Jasmine was probably right so I went back to the bedroom where Brendan was laying shirtless on the bed, playing games on his phone.

I laid next to him and said, “I know last night was like, so much fun, but I feel like I should apologize for making you mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he said.

“Right, but you were.”

“Okay, yeah I was,” Brendan said. “That was really abrupt and your timing sucked. Thanks for the apology.”

I was thinking, “Okay, remind me to never do that again.” I didn’t ask for all that and maybe my timing was slightly off, but I wouldn’t say it “sucked.” But as much as I wanted to argue back, I knew better than to pick a fight that was already seemingly over.

And since I wasn’t trying to rock the boat, I decided not to immediately call Brendan after finding out about Brady and Caroline moving in together. I called my mom instead. I hadn’t had a significant conversation with that lady in months, but I knew she’d be on my side and talk shit with me.

“Hi hon!” she answered. “I’m getting ready for brunch with the girls. What’s up?”

Brunch? My mom really thinks she’s a millennial.

“Brady is moving in with his new girlfriend next weekend and he just now told me,” I said.

“Oh, is he? Is she pregnant?” My mom asked.

“I doubt it,” I said and just the thought of it made me burst into tears and I had to pull over. She hounded me with questions I had no way of knowing the answer to like: “Why is he just now telling you?” and “How long have they been planning to move in together?” and “What does his mother think about this?” and “Is Cara’s house nice?” And then finally she said what I’ve been telling her for years.

“Well, he is an asshole.”

It’s like, ya think? I’d been waiting for her obsession to wear off and for her to see how terrible he actually is. By the time we hung up I felt slightly better about the Brady situation — he is an asshole and he has been since I can remember and I’m baffled that we spent so long in a relationship. But I didn’t feel good about my mom going to brunch and likely overdoing it on mimosas (been there) and making an ass of herself.

The following week, I let Winnie know that she’d be staying in the city with me through the weekend and then I asked if her dad told her that they were moving. She nodded in that hesitant kind of way she does when she isn’t sure what the correct answer is. Usually Winnie has a lot to say, but she didn’t say anything.

“And did he tell you that Caroline will be living there with you?” I asked.

Winnie nodded again.

“Are you okay with that?”

She shrugged.

“Do you like Caroline?”

“No,” Winnie said simply. “She doesn’t share any of her things and sharing is caring.”

“You have your own stuff. And you know your daddy really likes her, don’t you?” I said.

“No, he doesn’t. He only likes me.”

I could not in good faith argue with that. That weekend we hopped in the car with Brendan to go to his parent’s house for a dinner party. On the way over there I said, “Winnie, did you tell Brendan that you’re moving?”

“No,” she said from her seat in the back.

“Where to?” Brendan asked before I could even finish my bit.

“To Caroline’s house with your dad?” I went on.

“Yeah!” Winnie said.

“Whoa! That’s really cool,” Brendan said. I couldn’t tell if he was just saying that for Winnie’s benefit or if he really thought it was “cool.” I wanted to gauge his reaction to see if he thought it was weird because hello? My goal is to move Winnie and myself into his home eventually as well.

So we got to the parent’s house for dinner where a few of Margo’s friends and their husbands/kids already were plus Brendan’s uncle and cousins and their kids. Winnie has met a few of the kids before and she’s particularly close with Brendan’s cousin, Daphne’s 6-year-old son, Levi. (What would your cousin’s kid be in relation to you? A second cousin? Please let me know — I don’t have any extended family). And when I say close, I mean Winnie bosses him around and he follows her around the house carrying all her toys she brought with her. Mama taught her well.

Dinner was catered and served buffet style, which would have been fine, but the older children who were able to served themselves first and they dug their hands in the pans and licked their fingers and I definitely saw a couple of them picking wedgies earlier in the night. So I was disgusted by the whole thing. I respect Margo and her choices so much, but who has a buffet dinner with children? Brendan made eye contact with me and smirked — because he knows my deep rooted trauma of finding a long, stringy hair in the bulk bin at Whole Foods pre-Covid. So I didn’t eat anything except a couple of grapes from Winnie’s plate. And drank a ton of wine.

Danielle showed up as the night was winding down. Brendan’s sister? She always pops up here and there and brings her dark energy with her. We’re friendly, but not friends and don’t go out of our way to talk to each other.

So I was a little surprised when she sidled up next to me with her glass of wine.

“So I wanted to tell you,” she said. “I started watching the Real Housewives the other day. I know you’re really into it.”

“Oh, fun! Cool. Which city?” I said back.

“New York.”

“The best. What did you think?”

I was thinking: “Wow, if she can get into Housewives and Bravo and we have that to talk about, we could perhaps become friends!”

Danielle said, “I only made it through like two episodes. Is it really just about a bunch of elitists fighting over stupid things? I don’t get it.”

“Yes,” I said. That’s literally the point. Mindless escapism with occasional wealth porn (Hi @ Dr. Nicole Martin).

“Seems really vapid,” she added.

“Yeah, it’s not for everyone,” I said.

So I guess we wouldn’t be bonding over our love of Housewives. Not exactly shocked that she isn’t a Bravo girl though. Those who get it, get it and those who don’t, don’t. Tell me, do any of y’all watch reality TV? I feel like I reference it a lot in my posts, are my references landing?

Brady offered to pick Winnie up in the city the following Saturday after his big move. This was after I requested his new address so I’d know where to take her. I’m like, “Uh, no. I’m bringing her to you as I’d like to see where my child will be living.” Of course he would try to gatekeep the address as if I wouldn’t have to have it eventually. So annoying.

Winnie and I jumped in the car and headed to the new address. Sure enough, it was just about 15 minutes deeper into the Connecticut ‘burbs. Not crazy out of the way, but we definitely needed to take another look at our visitation and drop off schedule.

And you know the worst part? The further I got from our old house and the closer I got to Caroline’s house, the more beautiful the houses and neighborhoods got. The old neighborhood we lived in was very much for commuters who couldn’t afford the space they needed in the city and it showed. It’s like these neighborhoods were for true CT people who were content living in the suburbs and their sprawling, manicured lawns and big Cape Cod style houses reflected that.

So when we pulled up to this gorgeous, white and brick house with shutters and a big red door, I was relieved that it wasn’t a shit hole, but mad that Caroline owned that big ass house. She’s fucking 28 with no children and a small dog, why did she need with all this house?

“Here,” I texted Brady and then Caroline came bounding out of the house.

“You found it! Come in!” she practically screamed.

You know what else is funny? It became immediately apparent that Winnie was familiar with the house and had been there before. Which is fine, I just felt out of the loop. Winnie usually always tells me everything, but hadn’t mentioned any field trips to Caroline’s home. So whatever.

Anyway, the house inside was nice I guess, in that Amazon influencer kind of way. Well, it was nice besides Caroline’s yapping ass dog who also greeted us at the door. Brady came out of the woodworks and greeted Winnie and pretended I didn’t exist.

“So yeah! This is it!” Caroline said.

“Cute. May I have a tour?” I asked.

She hesitated and looked at Brady and he said, “Sure.”

Uh, k. Why did she need his permission when it was her house allegedly? So the four of us walked through the living room and dining room (cute, but far too beige), the kitchen (cheap), and a couple of bathrooms circa 1998. Then we went upstairs to the bedrooms and I was horrified at the state of Winnie’s bedroom. The walls were painted an offensive Tiffany blue color that matched none of her furniture and decor (not that any of the decor had been installed). Every other room was painted eggshell white, why was Winnie’s room left this heinous hue? And the overhead lighting was super unforgiving and ugly and ruined the entire vibe.

“We’ll need to do some work in here,” I said sweetly.

“Yeah, we wanted to hang up all of her things, but haven’t gotten a chance,” Caroline said.

“And maybe a fresh coat of paint,” I suggested.

She frowned. “Aww, I thought it was pretty.”

“It looks like a sorority girl’s room from 2009.” But you’d know nothing about that since you’re basically still a child yourself.

We continued the tour and I counted four bedrooms total and an office which is about the same size as Brady’s (and my’s) old house. It was normal for him/us, but now all I could think about was them expanding their little family.

Brendan made reservations for dinner on the Upper East Side which was a treat since he’s typically a neighborhood, walk-right-in restaurant kinda guy. And at a place neither of us had been to so I was excited to try it. We ordered a bottle of wine and I sipped my glass while watching him order the half of the menu we decided on together. I was thinking: “That’s my fucking man and he’s so fucking cute and I love him so much, I’d die for him — I should probably stop pushing my limits.”

Once the server took our order and walked away, I said, “So I’m dying to tell you about Brady and Caroline and their house.”

Brendan listened while I painted the entire picture for him: the complete difference in vibes and acreage from the old house to the new, the 4+ bedroom house for a 28 year old, the lack of attention to Winnie’s room, Brady’s entire demeanor. And isn’t it so odd that Brady waited until he absolutely had to to tell me about them moving in together and honestly, the fact that they’re moving in together in the first place?

“I really don’t think it’s that weird,” Brendan said. “I mean, the fact that he didn’t tell you is. But like, would us moving in together be weird?”

“No,” I said dreamily.

He went into all this stuff about zip codes and municipalities and school districts and other information I did not ask for. And then he’s like, “Would you ever move back to Connecticut?”

I said, “Ew, no. I mean, the house was nice, but not that nice.”

“Okay, good because I don’t want to live there either,” Brendan said, smiling.

After dinner we went back to Brendan’s place because he wanted to go to his local workout class the next morning. So we got in bed, hooked up and then went to sleep.

Okay, I really shouldn’t be saying this or even thinking it, but just between us squirrel friends (another reality show reference):

I kind of miss having sex with Brady. I know. I can’t even look at him like that anymore and I’m grossed out even typing it. He was just really good at matching my energy and rhythm and making me orgasm. Like, he would go down on me for five minutes and I’d come. I guess he just really knew what he was doing. And Brendan, bless his heart, is enthusiastic, but is so gentle and sweet and touches me like he’s afraid to hurt me. It’s like, no actually I do want to hurt a little bit. Leave a bruise. And I’ve tried to guide him (I’ll literally grab his hand and show him how hard I like my ass slapped) but there’s only so much coaching a gal can do before it gets weird. So usually I let him do his cutesy thing for a while before I push him down and climb on top to get myself off.

Anywho. Talk to y’all later!

Have I mentioned how much I despise Florida as a concept? But I guess I can admit that it’s starting to grow on me a little bit. I know that Brendan used to go with his ex-wife quite often, but it still feels like an escape for us. I’m obviously still weirded out about him galavanting with me all around the places he used to go with his ex, but I think I’m starting to get over it. What else can I do?

We got to the airport before our trip and I couldn’t wait to complain to Brendan about my conversation with Mike. We grabbed drinks in the lounge (of course Brendan is an airport lounge kinda guy) and I unloaded on him. I was like, “I love how she couldn’t even handle her one job and now I’m suddenly good enough to be his VP after years of doing it for her. At this point I don’t even want to fucking do it anymore. I just want to go back to my old job and have all my free time back. I’m over it!”

“Really? I thought you’d be excited,” Brendan said.

Apparently Mike had spoken to Brendan about my potential promotion because he wanted to get his opinion before he asked me.

“No offense, but why?” I asked.

“He just wanted to know if I thought he should ask you and if I thought you’d do it,” Brendan explained.

“And you told him yes?” I clarified, fuming.

“Yeah, I told him that you deserve it and that he should offer it to you.”

“Wow, so you think I should take it?”

“I do, but it kind of sounds like you don’t want to?” he said.

Did my disgusted scowl and clenched fists give it away? Clearly we were not on the same page and he didn’t care if I had free time to hang out with him or not.

“I don’t know. I told him I’d think about it while on vacation so I guess we’ll all see what I decide,” I said.

“Okay,” Brendan said, like it didn’t matter to him either way.

Whatever! So anyway, the rest of the trip was fine. I really want to emphasize that it was just fine, nothing more and nothing less, because after a week of waking up early, giving 15% effort at going to a workout class, eating whatever high protein brunch the chef made, taking a walk or laying around the pool, drinking 2 glasses of wine at dinner while sitting side by side and making future plans, coming home for some sort of sexual activity for approximately one hour before falling asleep and doing the same again the next day, I’d had enough fun and was kind of ready to get home. Brendan, on the other hand, revealed that he’d been thinking about investing in property in Florida.

“I come here often enough and I think it’d be nice to have my own place to escape the city in the winter,” he explained.

“But it’s Florida,” I pointed out.

“Yeah. Perfect weather. I love it here,” Brendan said.

He hadn’t mentioned anything about wanting permanent ties to Florida in all the many conversations we’d been having about our future and I was beyond annoyed.

“So you wanna help me pick out a place?” he asked.

“Well, obviously.” If Brendan was insistent on making Florida a thing, then I would happily use his money on the perfect dream vacation home for us and Winnie. I created a Pinterest titled “Florida 🌴🌊🍹🏠” and came up with an interior and exterior color palette, general vibe and aesthetic, landscaping story and window treatment ideas to present at a later date.

We headed to Puerto Rico on a tiny plane on Friday afternoon which I hated, but got over once we arrived at the chic little resort that Miguel and Jasmine had chosen for their wedding festivities. There were welcome cocktails later that night down at one of the bars at the resort and we stayed out late drinking with the wedding party.

The ceremony was the following day and it was really beautiful and I sobbed (as I do). It was a traditional catholic ceremony, I guess, which I didn’t necessarily see for Miguel and Jasmine. The ceremony was extremely long and Jasmine looked stunning.

Then we took shuttles from the church back to the resort for the reception and the reception was…fine. Well, it started off fine. I wore a long, flowy dress by Zimmermann and we walked down the candlelit path to where the reception was being held. The ballroom overlooked the beach and I appreciated the sunset and lighting setup, the music situation (a classy DJ who wasn’t super cheesy), the open wine-beer-tequila bar (that’s all you need really), and the passed appetizers which I’m sure were amazing (I didn’t have any). To no one’s surprise, Miguel and Jasmine both come from insanely gorgeous families and I’m obsessed with all of them. Miguel’s mother, who bears a striking resemblance to Paula Abdul, followed me on Instagram and has been sending me videos and inspirational quotes since the wedding. Love her so much. And I danced for hours with someone’s toddler who had no business being at the reception in the first place, but he was so fucking cute and I wanted to drop him in my carry-on and take him home with me!

The trouble began toward the end of the night and a few of us were hanging out at the bar. All of the elders and children had gone to bed and Miguel mentioned going out dancing. It was Brendan and me, Miguel and Jasmine, Jasmine’s sister and her wife, and their sexy relative, Freddie, who I would’ve been deeply attracted to, but he had been vaping all night. Jasmine had changed out of her gown and into a beaded little swan number that I’d need details on later.

“This was like, so incred. Is it everything you hoped for?” I said to Jasmine.

“For sure, but I’m just happy for it to be over and now I’m a wifey,” she said. “So what about you guys? Do you see yourself married?”

“I mean, yeah I want to of course,” I said. Up until then the conversation had mostly been between Jasmine and me and I put my hand on Brendan’s shoulder. “But I don’t know if we’re both ready for that.”

“What does that mean?” Brendan asked.

“Well. I imagine that if you’ve already been married once you wouldn’t be rushing to do it again. I certainly wouldn’t,” I explained.

“That’s totally valid,” Jasmine said in that blank, spacey kinda way.

“And having more than one big wedding in your lifetime seems crazy to me and I want a big wedding.”

Brendan didn’t say anything, but was looking at me like I should probably shut up.

“And like,” I continued, teetering into dangerous territory. “I think you should be 100% over your first marriage before getting into another. Like, talking about it shouldn’t be weird and you shouldn’t have all of your pictures still posted everywhere, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jasmine said, sounding like Kourtney Kardashian.

“Now you’re gonna piss me off,” Brendan said.

“Okay, nevermind. We can talk about it later,” I said to Jasmine.

“You guysssss,” Miguel, who had unbuttoned his dress shirt down to his navel, said as he leaned over to us. “Tonight is gonna be fun, right?”

“Right,” Jasmine agreed.

Brendan took his beer and walked away from the bar, clearly annoyed with me. I stood there with a stupid look on my face as if I hadn’t brought this on myself.

“I think he’s mad. Maybe you should go check on him and see,” Jasmine suggested.

“No, he’s fine,” Miguel said. He grabbed me and pulled me in between him and Jasmine. “You want another drink? What about a shot?”

“Yeah, let’s all do shots!” Jasmine said.

“No, I don’t want a shot,” I said.

“But it’s our wedding. Once in a lifetime,” Miguel said. At that point he had his arm around my waist, much like he does with the 23-year-old happy-hour-whores that he loves so much.

So I took the shot and then said, “Okay, I’m going to find my man.”

Miguel pretended to grab onto me so I couldn’t leave, but I broke away and continued on. Unclear what his motivations were on his wedding night, but I’m not his type so I don’t know why he was trying anything with me. The party had significantly died down so I easily found Brendan standing near an exit with one of he and Miguel’s friends.

“Hiiiiii,” I greeted him.

“Hi,” Brendan said.

“Are we fighting?” I asked.

The friend took the hint and walked away.

“No,” Brendan said.

“Okay, but you’re mad at me?”

“No, but you all of a sudden have an issue with me being married before. What do you want me to do about that?” he said.

“I don’t have an issue with you being married. I feel like having a starter wife was good training for you.”

Brendan did not find my joke funny.

“My issue is that you get really weird when your ex-wife is brought up in any capacity and you refuse to talk about it, yet you still have all of your pictures plastered all over Instagram talking about how much you love each other,” I explained calmly.

“Okay, we can talk about it then. What exactly do you want to know?” Brendan said.

What I really wanted to know was: if he loved Reagan as much as it seemed and the marriage still failed, how could he ever get married again? Like, how was I/us different? But that seemed like something really dense to get into at that moment so I said, “I can’t think of anything right now so I’ll come up with some stuff and write it down.”

“Okay,” he said.

“Maybe if I didn’t constantly have to see all your pictures together on Instagram, it wouldn’t bother me so much.”

“So you want me to delete them?”

OBVIOUSLY. Do you remember when Brendan said that I had to be very direct with him because he can’t read my mind? He was not kidding about that. God. “That would be ideal.”

“Okay, I’ll delete them,” Brendan said.

So…it finally happened. The next morning when I checked (you know I checked), all of Brendan’s offensive sappy pictures were gone from his Instagram. And to put it into perspective, without all of those pictures, he only had like 20 pictures left on his feed so you can see why it bothered me so much. And I know bringing it up at Miguel and Jasmine’s wedding wasn’t my best decision, but the pictures are gone now so I will count it as a win.

After talking to my dad about it, I decided to take the promotion. I didn’t have a real reason not to and since I was already doing the job anyway, it made sense to be compensated for it. But I was not happy about it. And of course Mike wasted no time forwarding me emails with no context to deal with and looping me into things I have no prior knowledge of or experience doing. So things have been going great.

The Saturday after I got home, I dropped Winnie off with Brady. And when I got there, half the house was in boxes and he let me know that he was moving into a new house the following weekend so Winnie could stay with me. I was aware that Brady sold his house months ago, but I hadn’t heard him talk about it again and hadn’t considered that he’d eventually be moving out.

“So where are you going?” I asked him.

“Only about 15 minutes away. Not far,” Brady said, purposely vague.

“Works for me,” I said. “Did you buy a new house? Do you have pictures?”

“No…I’m moving into Cara’s,” Brady said.

What? I just stared at him, wondering what the actual fuck was going on?

“Oh. So y’all are actually serious?” I finally said.

“I guess so. I mean, I don’t know. She’s owned her house for a few years and it’s closer to work,” he said.

“And Winnie is going to live there with you too?” I clarified.

“Yes. She has a room at the house.”

I kind of felt like I was going to faint or implode or combust. Why was I just now finding out about this? Brady can obviously do whatever the fuck he wants, but I was having a hard time accepting my child living with some lady we barely know. Caroline seems sweet enough, but she could be a child eater for all we know. And even Brady didn’t seem all that convinced.

“Well, I hope this is a good idea,” I said.

“Yep,” Brady said.

“And Winnie is okay with it?”

“Sure. I think she’s excited about it.”

In my mind, he was lying and that Winnie was unaware of the move. Winnie tells me everything and I know she would’ve mentioned something this big to me if she knew about it. I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised since I think Brady and I moved in together the first time after less than a year. But there’s a child involved now. I don’t know. Let me know if I am wrong for being bothered or if I am just bitter?

I have so much more to tell y’all, but I’m struggling so much to find time. I’ll try to post again soon!