Page 18

Great.
I think our conversation is over, but another text comes through.
Gage:
For the record, I always follow through.
Me:
I’m beginning to see that.
I’mearly for school pick-up today and position myself near the playground where I’ll easily spot Sarah. My mind is half-stuck on a particularly tricky transition in the cue for the Bangkok chase sequence, my fingers absently tapping out the rhythm against my thigh.
That’s when I notice Shayla across the courtyard, her designer handbag dangling from her wrist as she gestures emphatically to another mother. She hasn’t seen me yet, which gives me a moment to observe her unnoticed.
Shayla and I became friends gradually over the past year. She’s glamorous in a way I’ve never aspired to be, and beautiful in the kind of way that makes the world pause. Long, sleek dark hair. Flawless, sun-kissed skin. Eyes so vividly green I sometimes forget what I was saying mid-sentence when talking with her. And her face? Don’t get me started. Perfect symmetry, full lips that look designed rather than inherited, not an ounce of lip filler or botox in sight. It’s as if on the day she was born, God decided to outdo herself.
Shayla is an influencer with millions of followers. She posts about beauty, fashion, and a curated version of motherhood, all filtered through a lens of effortless perfection. Her content walks the line between aspirational and unattainable. The kind ofposts that show her in a silk robe with a green smoothie, writing captions about balance while her makeup is professionally done and not a single toy is out of place in the background. She’s got a verified checkmark, brand deals with luxury labels, and enough celebrity followers that the gossip accounts regularly speculate about who she’s dating, even though she’s not technically single. Last I heard, she was engaged to Michael Trent, the movie producer who’s as famous for his taste in women as he is for his blockbuster hits.
We have nothing in common. But motherhood has a way of bringing women together, especially when your ex is the kind of man who leaves emotional landmines in his wake.
She’s painted a picture of Gage as controlling and emotionally distant. A workaholic who left her to shoulder the parenting alone while he built his empire. I’ve sometimes struggled to reconcile that with the Gage I’ve seen, but having firsthand experience with an ex who shows one face to the world and another to me, I haven’t questioned her version of events.
Today, however, she gives me reason to.
When she sees me, she smiles and waves me over.
“Amelia! How are you, darling?”
She always calls me “darling.” I always ignore the falseness of it.
“I’m good. You?”
The mother she’s been talking with, a woman I’ve only met once, laughs. “Oh, god, don’t ask her that unless you want to hear all the ways her ex is ruining her life.”
I frown, glancing between them. “Oh?”
Shayla waves a hand, dismissive. “It’s nothing new. You know all about Gage and his bullshit.”
Her friend, Clare, is far less inclined to move on. “This was a particularly asshole move, though, Shayla.”
“Yes,” Shayla agrees but offers nothing further.
Clare, clearly invested, fills the silence. “That man.” She shakes her head like the verdict is already settled. “Last month, he bailed on Shayla when she needed him to take Luna for the weekend so she could be with Michael in LA for his movie premier. And now? He’s refusing again. Shayla’s got an important work event and Gage won’t budge. He’s jealous and using Luna to manipulate Shayla.”
This time, I manage to stop my frown.
None of that matches what Shayla told me last month about that same weekend. Then, she’d told me how amazing her fiancé is and that he was desperate to spend more time with Luna. She talked up how special Michael is. She said they wanted to take Luna to LA for that weekend so they could have a fun family time after the premiere, but that Gage wouldn’t give up his scheduled time with his daughter. She said Gage is doing everything he can to stop Michael being a part of Luna’s life.
I glance at Shayla, catching the moment she schools her features into disinterest, smoothing her expression into a glossy blankness.
I feel the need to defend Gage. “He’s helping me plan the class Science Fair at the moment.”
Clare blinks. Shayla’s mouth parts slightly, but no sound comes out.
“What?” Clare huffs her disbelief. “He’s putting his name to it while you do all the work?”
I shake my head. “No. He’s showing up and suggesting some great ideas.” I meet Shayla’s gaze. “Maybe he’s paying attention to your requests for help.”