odessa browning had not expected to wind up a single mom.

mariah was a lovely child, however that did not excuse the slight incredulity that would hit her as she drained her second mug of morning coffee.

she had been married at some point; but harlan fauntleroy was irrelevant. he’d had an affair, divorced her, and then subsequently perished. morbid, but karma had merely dealt him an overzealous hand.

having mariah at eighteen had come with a myriad of complications, expenses for baby food, medical bills, and paired with her sister-in-law delphine’s admonishments about her irresponsibility, her dopamine levels were not ideal. it was taxing; delphine had two gorgeous children, april and kian, and yet was no help whatsoever.

so, twenty four, with what remained of her dwindling patience, she joined a quaint mother’s club. it was like a book club mixed with a disturbingly cheerful therapy session, where mothers would convene to discuss the latest baby fashions, puberty, and gush about their spawn. it was mentally taxing, but it gave mariah an opportunity to throw lego bricks at other children.

you were not a parent yourself (thankfully), but had attended the session of a friend of yours that was expecting twins. you had assumed it was for moral support, but you were actually a free crutch.

“no thank you, darla, i prefer wine.” odessa informed the woman who was offering her a slimming ginseng tea, praying that the smile on her flushed lips was not too factious. she was hosting the gathering this week in her childhood home (she’d ushered her brother and his family out).

the clip that had been tasked with keeping her chestnut tresses back had evidently given up, spilling over the shoulders of her dancing skeleton sweater. the lithe fingers clutching the stem of her wine glass were glittering with every ring in existence except her wedding one.

“what, i'm allowed to drink.” she shot, cocking a dark eyebrow at you when you made a face. “my home, my wine, my rules. and i’m not driving, so don’t scowl at me, dove."