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“Amazing.” I put my computer on the wooden crate in front of me and then stretch. “There was this sense of peace when I got here.”
“Isn’t it the best?” She sighs as if she’s here sitting with me.
“It is,” I agree with her. “I even saw some horses off in the distance this morning.”
“That makes me so happy to hear. I spoke to Pops today, and he said you will be lying low this week.”
“That is the plan, I think.”
“Well, I was speaking with my cousins Chelsea and Amelia, and they were talking about a Christmas fair they are going to at the school on Friday, and I know how much you love Christmas.”
“Oh, that sounds like so much fun.”
“Is it okay if I tell them that you are down?” she asks, and I take a deep inhale.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” I bite the bullet; it has to happen sometime. “But can you do it on Friday morning?”
She laughs. “Consider it done.”
* * *
I know the minute she tells her cousin because my phone rings. “I cannot believe you have been here by yourself.” That’s the first thing Amelia says to me when I answer the phone Friday morning at ten. The two of us got to know each other briefly when she and Matty got married.
I laugh. “I’m sorry, it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
“Anyway, since you’re in town, how would you like to come to the Christmas fair?”
“I would love it,” I reply. “Why don’t you send me the address, and I can meet you there?”
“That works but plan on joining us for dinner afterward.”
“Added to my empty calendar.” We both laugh. “I will see you tonight. I’ll be the one who looks like she’s lost.”
“I will be the one who looks like she’s going out of her mind,” she retorts before hanging up on me. Right after, she sends me the address, and I confirm receipt.
At lunch, I step outside in the back like I’ve been doing the whole week, sitting on the top step, looking out into the distance. If you close your eyes and listen, you can hear the galloping of horses. I look forward to it, even at night after dinner, when I sit outside. The sound is peaceful. There really are no horns honking, no police sirens. There is nothing but the sound of the forest, which I didn’t know made me feel like I was home before.
When I pull up to the school, the parking lot is literally bursting at the seams, and one person is wearing a green-and-yellow vest trying to direct traffic. The side of the school looks like where most of the action is. Kids are yelling and screaming in the distance, and the schoolyard is filled with booths and white tents that are off to the side.
I make my way over to where most people are meeting before I take out my phone and text Amelia.
Me: Just got here.
I look around to see if I’m going to recognize any familiar faces when I spot him in the distance. I move my head to the side to make sure I’m actually seeing what I’m seeing and not a figment of my imagination like it’s been all week long. He’s walking down wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a black jacket as he looks down at the boy in front of him, who is his clone. My throat feels like it’s closing in when he puts his head back and laughs at something the woman beside him says, wrapping her hand around his bicep and leaning into him, making him laugh even more. “This is not happening,” I say to myself as I turn on the spot and think about getting the fuck out of here.
9
ZARA
I turn around to get the fuck out of here when I hear squealing that would stop traffic in New York. I know some of the heads turn our way, and when I look, I see that he also looks over. Our eyes lock for a second, just long enough for his mouth to hang open, before I turn around to Amelia. “You’re here,” she says, taking me in her arms.
“I’m here.” I try not to make it seem like I’m literally dying inside, and I want to throw up all over the place. I became the person I hated the most in this world, the other fucking woman. The woman who slept with a man who has not only a wife but a child. I blink away the tears threatening to come out. “This is amazing.” I turn and see his son has pulled him away from the crowd to go to one of the tents.
“Come and see the tent we have set up for first grade.” She pulls me to the side, where a tent is set up with a rocking chair and a fake chimney with socks hanging from it. “It’s waiting for Santa,” she announces, sitting in the chair. “They can take pictures.”
“Oh, clever,” I reply, trying to stay hidden as much as I can. “Are all the tents a different theme?” I ask, looking around to see if I can spot him.
“Yes.” She gets up. “Then in the back”—she points at the other parking lot—“are the food trucks serving hot cocoa and hot cider.”
