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About Italy—about her not going?
“We’re here. We made it,” he said, breathless as they pulled into the school parking lot.
They exited the vehicle as the school bell rang and children poured out of the building.
It didn’t take long before Aria tore out of the building with Phoebe, Sebastian, and Oscar.
She spied their friends on the far side of the building.
Why had they chosen to wait over there? Every other day of the school year, they’d waited for the kids in this spot.
Before she could whip out her phone and send a WTF text, the kids stopped running at the halfway mark and clustered together. Phoebe unzipped Aria’s backpack and handed the little girl something. Then the foursome huddled for a few seconds more.
This was not the usual routine by a long shot.
Her mouth grew dry. Her hands trembled. She stuffed them into the pockets of her dress.
The clawing voice in her head returned.
They’re leaving you because you were never good enough—even the douche nozzle Vance knew that.
She focused on Aria, praying that would quiet her overactive brain. The little girl waved goodbye to her friends. Oscar, Phoebe, and Sebastian set off in the other direction toward their families, and Aria headed their way with a swishy swagger to her step.
“Did I miss something?” she asked, working to keep her voice even.
“Aria’s probably just saying goodbye,” Landon answered. His posture stiffened. He dug his hands into his pockets and glanced away. “She won’t see her friends for a couple of weeks.”
Great, he’d decided to pull the aloof pop star card.
Why was the man acting like he had something to hide?
It had to be Italy. They must be leaving today.
“It’s Thursday,” she said, her voice rising an octave. “There’s school tomorrow. The fall break doesn’t start until after school tomorrow.”
“Not for Aria,” he answered, staring at a point in the distance.
The little girl ran up to them and eyed Landon. “Did you tell her, Uncle Landy?” the child demanded.
Landon’s features relaxed. “No, ma’am, I did not.”
Aria tossed a furtive look toward Landon and waved him in. “She doesn’t know what we’re doing?”
“She does not,” he confirmed.
“Because I saw you whisper stuff to her.”
“I didn’t whisper about this.”
Whateverthiswas, it didn’t sound good.
She glanced toward where her friends had gathered, but they were gone.
Aria turned her steely gaze her way. “Aunt Harper, you don’t look so good. Did you eat too many lollipops again?”
“I’m fine. I’m terrific, fantastic,” she blathered, taking a knee to be at the girl’s level.
“If you’re not about to puke like Phoebe does every time she eats too many hot dogs, close your eyes and put out your hand,” Aria instructed.
