Page 2 of Don't Trust Her

I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around them and tell them how much I love them.

Jennifer glances my way one more time.

That’s it. I’ve had enough.

I bolt down the hall to my son’s pre-kindergarten classroom, press my nose against the window, peer through the glass. The room is bustling, full of kids who are reading, drawing, playing. One little girl works on a puzzle at a table. A boy sits in the corner, building a tower with blocks.

Owen isn’t in there. I double-check. Triple-check.

My baby isn’t in his class.

Acid churns in my stomach. I wish I hadn’t had that shrimp sandwich for lunch. More than that, I wish I reallyhadpicked up my kids twenty minutes ago.

I need to check Sophie’s classroom, not that she’s likely to be there. If Owen’s gone, then she must be, too.

My heart pounds so loudly, I can’t hear anything else.

Whoever took them will pay. I’ll see to that personally.

Jennifer and Emily cut off my path. I’m determined to get past them. The classroom for the three-year-olds is on the other side of the reception desk. Must get there.

“Please calm down.” Jennifer holds up a hand.

“I need to see Sophie’s class.”

“She isn’t there. You picked her up.”

“No, I did not.” I narrow my eyes. “Move out of my way.”

Jennifer doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that, I’m sorry. Would you like to come into my office so we can try to figure out what happened?”

I know exactly what happened. These people let a stranger walk out of here with my children, and now we’re wasting valuable time.

We should be looking for them!

ChapterTwo

One week earlier.

“Angelina…” Peter’s voice sounds far away, like he’s floating somewhere. He shakes my shoulder and presses a kiss next to my ear. “Your alarm’s going off.”

I bolt upright, gasping for air, untangling the covers. Finally, I hear my alarm. The quiet, soothing sound of crickets usually eases me from whatever sleep state I’m in when it goes off. Not today. Last night, I was up with Sophie for an hour and a half after she had a nightmare. I’ve never seen the girl so inconsolable.

Maybe I can catch a nap while the littles are at preschool. That’s one of the benefits of being married to an anesthesiologist. I don’t have to work a grueling nine-to-five like I used to. Growing up, I hated the idea of being a stay-at-home mom. It seemed oppressive and sexist to me. Now I love the luxury, especially after nights like last night. Because I can nap later, I don’t have any reason to hold a grudge against Peter for not getting up.

Bryant, my jerk ex, didn’t work and refused to get up with Nadia in the middle of the night when she was little. After being married to a complete narcissist, I can now appreciate Peter all the more.

By the time I get out of the shower, our bed is made and the smell of bacon wafts up from downstairs. Even though we’ve been married seven years, I still can’t believe how great he is.

I knock on the two closed bedroom doors before going downstairs. “Hurry up so you can eat breakfast before the bus gets here!”

My daughter and stepdaughter are both fourteen, and neither have any desire to get up in the mornings. Because of that, Peter and I decided to allow them the privilege of coffee—but only if they drink it with breakfast. They love it, and it makes my life so much easier now.

Bryant complains Nadia is too young for coffee, but considering he only picks her up a few days a month and is always several months behind on child support, he doesn’t get a say in our morning routine. And it isn’t like our daughter is addicted. She puts so much milk and sugar in her mug, she’s actually drinking coffee-flavored milk.

The littles are already at the table eating, still in their pajamas. I give them both a big hug and press my lips to their rosy cheeks.

I greet Peter with a lingering kiss as he sets a plate of bacon on the table. “Anything I can help with?”

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