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“Galaxy Warriors 2,” Clay replies, and I wince.
“Me too!”
“Well, then we should get going. I think it’s going to start soon.”
“Come on, Jack,” I call again. My hands are too full to reach in there and pull him out, or I would.
As Jack hops out of the pod, I start walking, hoping he’ll follow.
“Mama, wait,” he calls, but I don’t look back at him. Instead, I feel Jack gallop next to me. “He’s going to see our movie too. Can he sit with us?”
“They’re assigned seats,” I reply.
Clay laughs from behind me. “I’ll see you in there, Jack. I have to wait for my girlfriend anyway.”
My feet stop, and I look. It’s completely instinctual, as if my body reacts before my brain has a chance to process this information. But I can’t help myself as I turn my head to look at where Clay’s standing now.
I think a part of me wishes I was wrong when I thought I saw him in the driver’s chair. Because Clay doesn’t have a girlfriend. Hecan’t.Only six months ago, he was mine.
But as my gaze lifts and finds him standing there, and our eyes meet, everything happens at once.
I realize, with disappointment, that it is him, with his slicked-back brown hair and chiseled cheekbones. I’d know his face anywhere.
Then I feel the pain of knowing he has truly moved on.
And then he sees me.
It takes him more than a split second to recognize me, which I can understand. Instead of the leather and lingerie he is used to seeing me in, I’m wearing ripped jeans, black boots, and a worn T-shirt.
His face falls as recognition dawns. Then his eyes dart down to Jack and back to my face.
I watch his mouth form the shape of my name. “Eden?”
“You know my mom?” Jack says, wrapping an arm around my leg.
“Umm…” Clay and I stammer at the same time.
A beautiful young brunette bounces up to Clay’s side. “Ready?” she asks him before following his gaze to me and Jack.
I’m too busy staring at her to react. This is his girlfriend. The girl he’s moved on with.
She has a short bob haircut that stops just above her chin and blunt straight bangs framing an almond-shaped face with large blue eyes and full, pink lips.
I swallow down the suffocating disappointment and jealousy as I glance down at Jack. “We’re going to be late.”
“Where are your seats at?” Jack asks, his attention still clinging to the couple.
Clay glances down at his phone. “RowQ. Seats nine and ten,” he says, looking nervous and mildly uncomfortable.
“What row are we in, Mama?” Jack asks.
I wish I could pull him away. Go to a different movie in a different theater. Honestly, at this point, I’m considering a different city in a different state.
But I can’t drag Jack away. And I can’t ignore him or brush off his questions. It’s not his fault he doesn’t know who these people are or how much it pains me to stand here and look at them.
I glance down at my son. “Row P. Seats five and six.”
“Aw, man,” Jack whines. I smile down at him. I’ve always found it endearing how my little social butterfly can somehow make friends with complete strangers in the frame of five minutes. But I do find it somewhat unsettling how quickly he’s latching on to a man who’s shown him the bare amount of attention.
