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Our job was to set up the milk-and-cookies booth at this festival. A small elderly lady directed us to our assigned place when we arrived, and we immediately got to work.

The school was abuzz; it was all mothers and their children setting up various booths. Right away, I could see that Joey bringing any of her dads would have stuck out like a sore thumb. Still, we made the best of it.

“Can I put the streamers up?” Joey asked as I started stacking the boxes of cookies.

I nodded. “Go ahead. Put them on the sides of the booth, but be careful. If you need help, ask me! I’ll get the cookies in the display case. Then we can get the ice to keep the cartons of milk cold. How does that sound?”

“Thank you!” she squealed before diving into the box of decorations we had bought.

Even though exhaustion tugged at me, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. These sorts of events werefun. Even though my own baby wouldn’t be doing them for a long time, I was honored Joey wanted me here.

I was determined to be the best surrogate mother possible for her.

We were putting the final touches on the store when a few mothers walked by. One of them seemed particularly interested in me. She had shoulder-length pin-straight blonde hair and was wearing a sweater that was pristine and clearly expensive.

“Are you here with Joey?” the woman asked. Even her voice was snobby.

“I am!” I smiled brightly.

Her smile never slipped as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I’m sorry. I was under the impression that Joey didn’t have a mother.”

Thankfully, Joey was out of earshot, but I still glanced her way to double-check. This woman had a lot of gall to be so blunt in front of children. Thankfully, Joey was a few feet away, working on milk cartons, as I stood on a chair, pinning up the final few streamers that were too tall for her.

I kept my smile pleasant, even though I was feeling anything but. “Unfortunately, that is the case. That’s why I’m here to help out.”

The mother made a simpering expression that could almost be misconstrued as pity. “I’m so sorry. Joey mustn’t have told you. This event is intended for themothersto help set up…” She trailed off like she was expecting me to apologize to her.

I was grinning so widely, my cheeks were starting to hurt, even though the anger was rising.

I was very familiar with this sort of mother—I had been subjected to several of them throughout my childhood. Someone who thought their status on the parent-teacher board made them more important than everyone else. They thought they were the best mothers in the world and were excited to show that at every opportunity, even if that meant tearing down a child.

“No, Joey told me. I assumed you weren’t the kind to exclude and bully a child because she had the misfortune of not having a mother.”

Her eyes widened, and she looked at her two friends, who were equally startled. Never in a million years would they have suspected me to call them out on their bullshit so spectacularly. People like her didn’t cope well with outright confrontation. They were far more passive-aggressive.

Righteous anger filled me, and I wanted to say a lot more than I did. Joey was such a sweet girl. She deserved to be treated better than she was. Women like this mother infuriated me, and if I wasn’t in a school full of children, I might have been more inclined toward violence.

Even though I’d known I would be a part of Joey’s life even before my pregnancy, it was different now. I would give birth to her half sibling, and there was no way I would be a mother to her little brother or sister and leave Joey out in the cold. That was a level of cruelty I couldn’t even fathom.

Deep inside my gut, a feeling grew that was protective, possessive…and, dare I say, maternal?

“We would never!” she spluttered.

I glanced over to where Joey was putting all the milk cartons into the ice bucket, blissfully unaware of the conversation I was having.

“Of course, you wouldn’t.” I beamed, keeping that sickly-sweet expression on my face. A tall man with a bushy mustache passed us, and recognition dawned on me. “Principal Jeffs! Hi.” I smiled sweetly at him as I got down off my chair, wiping my hands on my jeans.

He turned to look at us, greeting us warmly. “Hello there…Sorry, my dear, you seem so familiar, but I can’t place your name.”

“Bethany Wells. We met last year when your fourth-grade class came to the ice rink.”

Realization dawned on his face and he smiled. “Of course. It’s so nice to see you again. Are you here with one of the children?”

The entire time he spoke to me, the snooty mother looked at us in surprise. She was seemingly baffled by the fact that I had already met the principal.

“I’m here with Joey Noble,” I explained.

“Ah, how wonderful. Are you close with her family?”