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"A volunteer?" he continues.

"Sure," I tell him. "I'm glad Brett found someone to help him out. I know he was bummed he couldn't make it tonight."

I look next to me in search of Parker, noticing she's disappeared.

Shit.

"Yeah, he wanted to be here."

"Do you have a kid in this school, too, or did he just hire you to babysit?" This is a lot of personal questions for a bake sale.

"Uh yeah, I have a kid here—somewhere," I tell him. "She's old enough to do her own thing, so I offered to help out Parker." I'm not the best liar, but I can hang in there.

"Oh, nice. Which kid is yours?" This school is not that big.

"Uh," I need a common name. "Amy," I say, pressing my lips together and nodding.

"Amy, huh?"

"Yup, fifth grade—tough year," I say, putting my fist up.

The guy grits his teeth and smiles awkwardly before leaning in toward me. "This school only goes up to fourth grade," he whispers.

The color might have just drained from my face. "Oh, crap. What am I saying? I meant fourth grade. I'm already thinking ahead to next year. Amy is all excited for middle school."

The beard's lips press together as if he's lost in thought. "They don't start middle until seventh grade. We have an intermediate school."

When the hell did that start?

"That's what I meant," I tell him. I'm losing this battle.

"What's your name again?" he asks.

I'm giving him a look to let him know it's not his business, but I am in a school, and I realize rules and security are a little different these days. "I'm Journey Milan."

He narrows his eyes at me. "Journey Milan."

"Yup, that's me." I am almost positive there is no Amy Milan at this school, but I can be divorced. I am divorced. It's not too far from the truth.

"I knew a Journey once. It's not a name you hear all the time," he says.

I shrug, wondering who the hell this guy is, and why I'm scared that he might have known me at some point in my life. "Maybe it's more common than you think."

"Did you ever have red hair?"

I run my fingers through my hair in response. "No, I'm a brunette. So, I guess there is more than one person named Journey."

"Is Mi

lan your maiden name or married name?"

"Married name," I tell him.

The guy's hands are now pressed into the tabletop. "What's your maiden name, Journey?"

"Why does that matter?" I ask him.

"Why do you seem nervous?" he responds.

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