Page 139 of With a Cherry On Top

“Why wouldn’t Josie be there?”

“Well, after our fight, the other day?—”

“That hasnothingto do with Sadie!”

“I’m aware,” I say, somewhat defensively. Is she mad at me? “But I don’t know for a fact that she’ll be there.”

She moves fast, running into the corridor and disappearing behind the corner.

I blink. “What’s happening?”

She’s back after a second, pulling down the sides of an obscenely short pink dress. “Come on,” she says, waving me over. “Let’s go.”

“Wh-where?”

“To Sadie’s school.” Her voice is firm, no room for argument. “The show starts at eleven, right? We can still make it.”

We?Wecan still make it?

I stare at her, my pulse hammering.

“Jesus, Aaron. Come on,” she says before stepping closer, pushing me forward with both hands.

I stumble a little as I follow her. “What about lunch?”

“You’ll have to make something that doesn’t take eleven hours.”

I glance at the clock. Beatrice will be here in three hours, and I need at least two for the poached seabass. It’s just not possible.

“But your mom—the menu she approved?—”

“We’ll say there was no seabass at the supermarket!” she calls over her shoulder as she snatches her purse. “Or that I found out I’m allergic, or that you’re sick or—” She whirls back, eyes wild. “I don’t know, okay? We’ll figure it out. Let’s go.”

I hesitate for half a second—long enough for her to grab my wrist and yank me out the door—then the hallway blurs as I jog to keep up. She presses the elevator button and steps in, pulling me the rest of the way in before the doors fully open.

This’ll get me in trouble. Beatrice will be pissed, and the other moms at school will talk, whisper about Charlotte and me showing up together. They’ll assume things, ask questions.

But none of it matters right now.

None of it remotely dampens my enthusiasm as I grin back at her.

Because my daughter isnotperforming for Mother’s Day with no one to cheer her on.

“What arewe going to tell the parents? The teachers?” she asks as I thrust my car into the first parking spot available. I ended up texting Beatrice that I’d need a sick day, and though all she answered back was “Okay,” Iknowshe’s displeased.

In a flurry, we remove our seat belts and step out, and I meet Charlotte’s gaze over the hood. “What do you mean?”

“About me.Us. Being here together, you know?”

We break into a run toward the school entrance, and the sound of children singing drifts through the air. Fuck. It’s started already.

“Oh, who cares,” I mumble, not breaking my stride. I’m the villain either way, aren’t I? “Let everyone think whatever they want.”

“Is that how it is?” She throws me a wink. “I like this Aaron. But stop looking at me like that. Remember? Poker face?”

“Pretty sure thisismy poker face.”

“Then we’re screwed,” she quips, flashing a grin as she pulls open the door.

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