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“Eager to get home. Sophie was so upset about my leaving tonight.”
“Oh, no. The poor thing. Is she okay?”
“I hope so. Peter promised her a tea party.”
“She’ll be fine. He’s great like that.”
“Thank you,” I say, relaxing immediately. It should be strange that my husband’s ex can set me at ease, but she’s always been so level-headed. Nothing at all like my narcissist ex.
Lyra leans closer. “Dakota mentioned you might be in the market for a personal stylist.”
My face flames. She actually told her mother that?
“I just wanted to let you know that if you come in to my location and ask for me, it’ll be on the house.”
It takes me a moment to find my voice. Not only does my husband’s ex think I’m a fashion disaster, she wants to give me charity and give me the help I apparently need so desperately. “That’s really generous of you.”
Does she not realize how humiliating this is? Especially having this conversation now, where other moms could easily overhear.
Lyra gives my shoulder a squeeze. “After everything you’ve done for Dakota? It’s the least I could do. I’ve heard so many horror stories about stepparents, but you’re a dream. We both adore you.”
I’m sure she’s exaggerating, but even so, they clearly think I’m a walking fashion disaster. “I—I’m really grateful for you two, as well.”
She beams. “If you come in on one of my days off, the other stylists know to give you first-class treatment.”
All the stylists know about me? This is even more embarrassing than I first thought.
Chelsea comes over and pulls Lyra away.
Thank God.
As she’s dragged off, Lyra waves. “Don’t be a stranger!”
I wave back, but she’s already deep in conversation. Then I glance down at my clothes. Slacks and a trendy blouse. A popular YouTuber was wearing this same one just last month. I’m perfectly fine, and it isn’t as if I want to look like I’m trying to compete with my daughters.
The room is starting to thin, so I grab my now-cold, empty tray then head out. More colorful leaves whip around the few remaining cars. I hurry to my Escalade.
Just before I reach it, a chill once again runs down my back.
I spin around, scan the parking lot.
Empty again.
Definitely time to ease up on the crime podcasts. Not every parking lot is filled with abductors.
That also doesn’t mean I’m wrong about something being off. But I probably am. I have to be. Why would someone be watching me?
I’m just a boring PTA mom with no fashion sense. Nothing to see here.
ChapterSix
Megan waves to me as she bustles through the doorway at the coffee shop. She rushes to my table then sets her purse on the chair opposite me. “Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe all the roadwork I ran into.”
I give my best friend a hug. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad to see you.”
“Uh-oh. Rough week?”
“You could say that.”
