Page 140 of With a Cherry On Top

We rush through the corridors until we reach the one that leads to the gym, where a small crowd of parents turns our way, heads swiveling. They’re familiar faces. Jenny’s mom—Linette. David’s mom, whatever her name is. The second their gazes land on Charlotte, their expressions flicker with barely concealed shock. They try to mask it, to their credit, but they fail miserably.

“Hello, everyone. Is the show...” I gesture vaguely toward the door.

“It’s starting in ten minutes,” Linette says, eyeing Charlotte’s short dress with unmistakable curiosity. “The other class ran late.”

“Oh, great. I thought we’d missed the beginning.”

Linette turns her attention to Charlotte. “So nice to meet you, uh...” She extends a hand.

Charlotte barely shakes it. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

“And you are...” Linette probes, eyes roaming down the short dress clinging to her curves.

Great, I’ll be the main topic of gossip for the next year.

“More thirsty than I’ve ever been.” Charlotte turns to me, completely unfazed. “I need a glass of water to keep down last night’s vodka. The run kinda shook the whole mix.”

Every mother within earshot stiffens, eyes snapping to us like we just set the gym on fire.

“Yeah. Yes.” I clear my throat. “We’ll . . . um . . . we’ll be back.”

I grab Charlotte’s wrist and steer her toward the hallway before the judgmental stares can melt my skin off. The moment we turn the corner she bursts out laughing, the sound full and unrestrained.

“Jesus Christ, Charlotte.” I press a hand to my forehead, trying to will my heartbeat back to normal. “You just love to get me in trouble, don’t you?”

“I love to getusin trouble.” She steps into my space, beaming. “And besides,yousaid ‘who cares,’ and I certainly don’t.”

I beam back.Us. “I like getting in trouble with you.”

I like everything with her.

Her eyes soften. “You know what’s really hot?” When I tilt my head, she pulls a lock of my hair back. It’s the most tender gesture. “Someone who never asks you to beless.”

“Less? Less of what?”

“I don’t know.” She looks down at her bright pink mini-dress. “The way I dress, my flirting, hell—everything about me. Some people would say, and in facthave said, that it’s too much.”

Too much? “I can’t get enough.”

It’s the same as last night, the same as every time—this invisible pull, this stupid, reckless gravity. It never lets up. Not even now, in the dim hallway of my daughter’s school, with parents just around the corner and whispers waiting to follow us.

I need to say something about last night. Anything—actually, I need to tell her everything. How I’m scared of losing my brother and my friends. How my job brings me happiness like nothing ever has before, and I’m terrified of not having a purpose again. How last time I blew up my whole life for a woman, I ended up with nothing. How I feel like if I do it again, I’m a heartless, selfish prick, and if I don’t, I’m a coward.

And how through it all, I need her even more than I want her.

But a sharp burst of applause echoes from the gym, snapping me back.

“We should go in,” she says, a comforting look in her eyes as she tugs at my hand.

We walk over, and the auditorium is packed with moms. The stage is lined with pastel-colored decorations—paper flowers taped to the curtain, cut-out hearts with each child’s name in glitter.

I scan the crowd for Josie, and I’m pretty sure I see Charlotte doing the same, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Whenever I think I’ve got no more space left for disappointment, she manages to carve it in.

I adjust my cuffs for the third time, but my knee won’t stop bouncing once we take a seat. Charlotte notices, because of course she does, and without a word, she reaches over and slides her fingers over mine, squeezing.

The lights dim, and a hush settles over the crowd.

One by one, the kids take the stage, each stepping into the spotlight for their turn. The first is a boy in suspenders and a bow tie, stomping his feet in a tap routine that’s more enthusiasm than rhythm. The audience claps along, and he grins, waving wildly at his mom as he skips offstage. Next, a little girl in a pink tutu does a series of careful twirls. Another girl comes out adjusting a tiara on her head, giving the audience a royal wave before attempting a wobbly cartwheel that sends her tiara flying across the stage.

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