I’ve missed my shot.

CHAPTER
3

I’D DONE SUCH a good job ignoring Christian that I’ve lost track of him. Disappointment clogs my throat, and I want to kick myself for ruining my night’s big plans. I scan the room, but a woman steps between me and a clear line of sight toward the last place I saw him.

“Eli’s your son, right? Eli Jordan?” She wears enviably thick fake eyelashes that show off her deep brown eyes. Her teeth sparkle inside the frame of her hot pink lipstick, and twin spots of bright pink blush highlight the bronze apples of her cheeks.

I have no idea who she is, but I smile as though I’ve been waiting to talk to her all night. “Yes, Eli’s my son.”

“He’s in Maya’s class. My daughter. I’m here with Shawn Lincoln, he’s my husband. I was a couple of years behind you guys. But you and I used to volunteer at the preschool together.” Her look is intense. Keen.

I remember Shawn from high school, barely, and I do not remember her at all. She clearly remembers me, but I don’t want to think about the reasons why. Or what she recalls. The years my son was in preschool are all … blurry.

“I’m Sheila,” Maya’s mother prompts.

I nod, looking past her to scan the room again. No Christian. Tension coils in my chest. I put on my best “mom” voice. “Sheila and Shawn. Of course. How’ve you been? It’s been so long, right? Can you believe the kids are juniors now?”

“I find it hard to believe none of us are still juniors,” Sheila says with a chagrined laugh as she waves a hand around at the rest of the room.

Why do we all love talking about the past so much? Why can’t we ever walk away from it, leave it alone? I’m as guilty of it as anyone here tonight, but I try to steer Sheila toward memories of high school and away from the years our kids were in preschool together. We laugh about old teachers and hairstyles and phone calls on landlines, and we avoid bringing up old nicknames and rumors and memories of shame.

I am bright. I am sparkling. I am poised. I am vibrant. I am a vision.

I am a mirage.

It was all for nothing. I don’t care about these people. Anything I could possibly want to know about them, I already do, because they post everything on Connex, and I scroll past the photos of their babies and their brunches and their boredom without leaving a comment. Lurking but never participating. I came here tonight for one stupid reason, and apparently, he’s left early.

I’ve allowed Christian Campbell to take up too much space in my mind for too many years. Isn’t the best revenge having a good and happy life that doesn’t include him at all? Too bad I’m not able to exact that revenge if I can’t even rub my good and happy life all over his face.