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“I wondered how long it would last since her stepsister had just broken up with him. It seemed pretty brazen to go after him then, but I guess Nadia knows what she wants. You gotta give props to a girl who doesn’t let anything get in the way of that.”
My daughter not only has a boyfriend I don’t know about, but also essentially snatched him from Dakota?
I quickly pull myself together and manage a little chortle. “Girl drama. It never ends at home.”
Trixie rubs cream into my nails. “With two fourteen-year-old girls? I can imagine.”
What is going on in my house? Do I actually know anything happening under my own roof?
ChapterTwenty-Two
Ihaven’t been able to focus on anything all afternoon after talking with Trixie, who apparently knows more about my own child than I do. By the time my nails, now brighter than the neon sign in the salon’s window, dried and I was finally able to leave, it felt like stepping outside into an alternate reality.
Nothing is what I thought it was two weeks ago. Someone who looks just like me is out to get me, my daughter tells her dad’s girlfriend more about her life than she tells me, and she and Dakota are living some rivalry over a boy.
At least I kept my head high the entire time and didn’t give her the slightest inkling that I had no clue what she was talking about with my daughter’s supposed boyfriend.
Unless she was making all that up to see what I’d say. If she thinks it’s okay to make fun of people like that, she’s probably rolling on the floor at my expense. She can have it, her and Bryant both. They deserve each other, if that’s the case.
But if what she said was true, then I really don’t know what’s been going on in my own house. Could all Nadia’s recent study groups actually be time spent with some boy? Luke or Liam? Annoyance runs through me, but then I remember how I kept my middle-school relationships secret from my parents. Not that it was hard. They were always on the phone with whatever mental institution my brother was in at the time. He moved around a lot, proving to be too much even for the professionals. A judge approved him to stay at an adult facility by the time he was fifteen because Michael had burned bridges at all the juvenile ones in the county.
At least my kids are safe and happy. That’s all I can ask for, especially after the littles disappeared yesterday. No harm came to them despite being abducted and then subsequently spending time with my father.
I didn’t have any issues getting the kids from preschool. Nobody else tried picking them up, and the password worked as expected. The kids were thrilled to have cupcakes at the Cake Shack while I watched the video of the woman who looks exactly like me. Not that I can do anything with it yet, as people will say it’s just another video of me in my purple tank top. But the employee emailed it to me, so I have it in case it ever comes in handy.
Peter’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. It takes me a moment to realize I’m in the backyard watching Owen and Sophie.
“You’re back already?” I ask.
“I only went in to do paperwork.”
I can’t remember if he told me that or not.
“Do you have anything planned for dinner?”
Dinner. Right. People have to eat. My stomach has been churning acid all day, so I haven’t eaten anything. Unless I had something for breakfast. I can’t even remember. “No. Do you have any ideas?”
He glances up to the sky. “I could grill those steaks. Who knows how much longer the weather will stay nice for outdoor cooking?”
“That sounds good. Want some help?”
“You can throw together a salad or roast some veggies if you feel like it.” He heads inside.
I tell the kids I’ll be back out in a few minutes.
They don’t respond, as they’re too busy chasing each other around the climber. At least they’re home and safe. I hate to think what might’ve happened if my doppelgänger had left them somewhere even more dangerous than my parents’ house, or done something to hurt them. Or worse.
I shove those thoughts aside and join Peter in the kitchen. He’s rubbing something into the meat. I glance around the fridge, trying to decide what side dish to make. We have leftover mashed potatoes I could warm up and some asparagus and broccoli that will go bad soon if I don’t make them. I turn on the oven and prepare the veggies with lemon pepper and butter—it’s so good that way all four kids will eat it.
“Why are you so quiet?” Peter gives me an inquisitive look.
“I’m trying to make sense of everything.”
“But you were feeling so much better earlier.”
I freeze mid-chop. This is the first I’ve seen or spoken with Peter all day. “Was I?”
“Yeah. You were so chatty and hopeful over lunch. It’s jarring to see you so tense again.”
