“Do you have your shoes on?” I yelled from the front door. I had one hand on the door handle and the other on my hip as I listened to Sam tearing his room apart in search of his favorite Velcro sneakers.

Naturally, they were Spiderman sneakers.

“I can’t find them!” he called back.

“Have you checked the back door?”

“No,” he said weakly, knowing in that moment where his mistake lay. When he first started looking, I told him they were likely at the back door because he had worn them to go out and use the swing set after dinner last night. He trudged out of his room in his socked feet and went to the back door in the kitchen. I heard the Velcro tear open as he put them on.

Then he came back down the hall to the front door with his backpack and shoes finally on. We were running about ten minutes behind, and I was feeling flustered.

It had been a long time since I was alone to get Sam ready for school—since Zach moved in with us, in fact. He’d been there every morning, helping me get things in order. We’d take turns packing his lunch, his school bag, and getting him dressed appropriately for his day. Kindergarten was a lot less stress than first grade, and doing it on my own was more than overwhelming.

I opened the front door and hurried him out to the old truck. I lifted him up as it was missing side steps and got in the driver’s seat. It started up with a roar, and I reversed out of the driveway to get to school.

“Are we going to be late?” Sam asked, peering over the dashboard. He was just tall enough to see out the windshield now.

“No,” I said. “But we are cutting it close. Maybe from now on, we make sure everything is good to go the night before? We can pack your bag and get your shoes out by the front door so you don’t have to run around like a chicken with your head cut off.”

Sam nodded and began chewing his bottom lip. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. We’ll make it in time.”

I wasn’t lying. We pulled up to the school with about eight minutes to spare, which was pretty good timing on my part. I parked the truck in the parking lot, and Sam looked up at me.

“Can I come in with you, kiddo? I want to get a look at your classroom.”

“Sure,” Sam said.

“You won’t be embarrassed by your mom coming into school with you?”

Sam shook his head. “Some of the other kids’ moms brought them to class yesterday.”

“Okay.” I smiled. I unbuckled and walked around the hood of the truck. I lifted Sam out and took his hand as we crossed the parking lot.

A cluster of other parents, all mothers I noticed, were gathered below the stairs. They all had their heads bowed together, and they were not trying to disguise the fact that they were looking scornfully from my truck in the parking lot to me.

I was wearing my favorite black skinny jeans and white sneakers. My hair was in a messy bun because I was heading to inventory again after this, and my T-shirt was a distressed gray wash. The V-neck was rather wide, so the straps of my lace bralette were showing.

We walked by them, and I felt their eyes on me as we kept walking. Gossiping mothers were the absolute worst.

We went through the door, and Sam led me down the hall to his classroom, which I was delighted to find was quite fantastic.

Their desks were in neat rows of five, and each of them had a cubby underneath to store their pencils, crayons, and books. Sam walked me to his desk where his name was printed out by his hand on a piece of blue construction paper and taped to the front. He had decorated it with pictures of motorcycles, which looked uncannily like Zach’s bike, and Spiderman webs.

The rest of the room was filled with all kinds of things. One wall was dedicated to the kids’ personal items, like their jackets, outside shoes, and lunch boxes. Their names were neatly printed on labels and stuck to the wall above their designated hooks. The front wall was half chalkboard and half whiteboard. The teacher’s desk was off to the right side near the windows, which let in cheery sunlight and were framed with rainbow curtains.

“This is really nice, Sam,” I said.

“I like it,” he said as he shrugged out of his jacket and went to hang it on his hook.

Other kids were taking their seats, so I ruffled his hair when he came back to his desk. “I’m going to head out before your teacher comes in. You have a great day, okay, kiddo? I can’t wait to hear all about it tonight. Oh.” I paused, glancing around. “Is Johanna here yet?” I couldn’t help myself. A mother’s curiosity.

He peered around and then pointed to a redheaded girl who had just walked in. She was hanging up a bright pink coat and kicking off her yellow rain boots which were entirely unnecessary because it was a dry, sunny day. She wore purple leggings covered in hearts and a blue shirt with a sparkly flower in the middle. She was eccentric and adorable.

I found myself smiling as I patted his head once more and said goodbye. I paused in the doorway to look back at him, but he was looking at Johanna.

Adorable.

The second bell went to start class as I was heading out the front door. I descended the front steps and looked up to see that same cluster of mothers muttering under their breath. Their eyes, like before, kept darting over to me, and then they would giggle outrageously.

Most of them were dressed in cardigans, pretty sandals that showed off their fresh pedicures, and wrinkle-free straight-leg colored jeans. I rolled my eyes, deciding they weren’t worth my breath.

But then as I passed them, one of them muttered, “That poor boy doesn’t stand a chance. What a walking disaster.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and snapped my head to the side to shoot daggers at them with my stare. The one who had spoken, a pretty middle-aged blonde, made eye contact with me. She blinked in surprise and turned back to the group like a herd animal seeking shelter in its companions.

Not today, lady. Not today.

My temper was short from everything happening with Zach. I was stressed with all my new responsibilities at work. I hadn’t been sleeping because of it all. And now these women thought they were better than me.

Fuck that shit.

I marched over, chin held high, back straight, and stopped when I was only two feet away. I folded my arms under my breasts, slapped on my “I mean fucking business” Coast Guard face, and cleared my throat. “Is there something you wanted to say to my face, Stepford Wife?”

There were six of them, and they all looked up at me with perfectly lined eyes and pretty pink lips. Some looked absolutely horrified that they were being called out, while the one who had spoken looked like she was living her best life. She faced me and crossed her arms, too. Her long red fingernails rested against her upper arms, and a giant diamond ring glittered on her left hand. “We were just sympathizing with you, dear.”

“Sympathizing?” I scoffed. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t know what sympathy was if it walked up and bit you on your ass.”

The blonde blinked, horrified by my language, and pressed a hand to her chest. “I beg your—”

“No,” I barked. “Hell no. You were the one acting like a stuck-up bitch. You don’t get to pretend to be offended now that someone is calling you on your ‘stuck in high school’ drama. I get that you want attention. It’s written all over you. But you’re what, forty? Haven’t you learned by now that there are better ways to get the attention you want than being a bitch?”

One of them laughed. She looked horrified that the sound had come out of her and slapped a hand over her mouth. She locked eyes with me, and I pointed at her.

“You shouldn’t socialize with women like this,” I told her. “They’re bringing you down. And their kids are probably bringing your kids down.” I looked back at the blonde, who was turning a bright shade of red. “Listen, we don’t have to like each other just because our children go to the same school. But this behavior will not happen again. We are supposed to be setting an example. Are we on the same page?”

After a moment of hesitation, the woman nodded.

“Good,” I said. “Have a good rest of your day.”

I turned on my heel and marched out to my truck. My chest was full, my body was thrumming with adrenaline, and I was aware of the fact that I hadn’t felt this good in weeks.

I got in my truck, slammed the door, and cranked my rock music as I pulled out of the parking lot. They could think whatever they wanted. There was no harm in that. But they would treat me with respect from now on.

Part of me looked forward to seeing their reactions when they saw Zach. His all-around sexiness would probably wipe the catty grins off their faces.

This train of thought only reminded me of how much I missed him and how often he was spending time away from me and Sam lately.

The rock music lost its appeal, and I turned it down as I drove the rest of the way to work.

When I got there, Rosie hadn’t arrived yet, which was a bit strange because Ryan was supposed to be dropping her off on his way to work around twenty to nine. She usually beat me by five or ten minutes. But not today.

I got out of the truck and went up the steps to the front door.

It was unlocked.

I swallowed. Had someone broken into the place in the middle of the night? How much of my shit would be missing? Had we left any money in the registers? If so, how much? Did the closing crew lock the safe properly?

Was the thief still inside?

I pushed the door inward, and it creaked on its hinge.

And then the fear that had bloomed in my gut was snuffed out as my eyes fell upon the sight before me.

Rose petals. Thousands of rose petals. And candles burning on every surface. There were so many that for a second, I thought some of the lights were turned on. But they weren’t. At the end of an aisle of rose petals, in the middle of the dance floor at the back of the room, under the swirling lights of the disco ball, stood Zach.

He was dressed in a black suit.

“What the hell is going on?” I whispered.

But deep down, I already knew, and I already felt guilty for thinking he had lost interest in me and Sam. It would seem that my assumptions were all wrong.

Quite wrong.

The door swung closed behind me, and I began to walk down the aisle of petals.