Page 44 of The Perfect Mistake

“Okay,” Isabel breathes by my side. “This is magical.”

The kids seem to think so, too. Willa gazes up at me with a look that is equal parts triumph and happiness. Look, Dad? I told you it would be awesome!

Something clenches painfully tight in my chest at seeing her expression. Yes, she had. Maybe I should have listened the first time.

I lose control of the kids almost instantly. So many of their friends are here, although more of Willa’s than Sam’s, and I watch as they dart off in the directions of their classmates. Sam ends up right next to the popcorn machine, and, somehow, I don’t think that was accidental, if I know my son.

Isabel lingers beside me. Her hair is long and loose over her shoulders, a flowing black curtain, and she’s in casual clothes. A denim jacket and a pair of pants. She looks young and comfortable. At ease. Calm.

Everything I feel the opposite of.

“Now, should I stay by your side or with your kids?” she asks. There’s a gentle teasing note in her voice. “Who needs chaperoning the most?”

I look at her and not at the other parents mingling around the lawn. I’ve already noticed some of the curious looks directed my way. These events are a common occurrence, but my attendance is not.

“Me,” I say. “Let’s grab one of the spots?”

She smiles. “Yeah. There’s a good one off to the side there.”

We put our stuff, including the bag with kids’ extra jackets, next to an empty picnic setup. The area doesn’t look like a site for a school-based fundraiser. It looks rather like an expensive restaurant with a modern approach to seating.

More people are watching me. I can feel their stares, and what’s worse, I notice Isabel picking up on it, too. Of course, she would. She notices everything, and there’s no reason this would be an exception. But she doesn’t say anything about it.

Sam comes bouncing back to us. He’s holding a giant bucket of popcorn, smelling like butter and salt and everything good in the world.

“Look what I got!” he says and smiles widely. The little gap next to his front tooth winks with its absence. His first baby tooth, gone. He’s growing up fast.

I ruffle his hair. “You got popcorn for all of us?”

He looks down at the bucket. I wasn’t planning on sharing is clear enough to read, and it makes me smile. “We can always get more if it runs out,” I tell him. “Did you see your sister?”

“No,” he says and flops down next to Isabel. He hesitates only a moment before he offers her the bucket. “Do you want some?”

She smiles at him. “Thank you very much, Sammy. I think I’ll have some.”

Sammy. That’s what Victoria called him when he was born. I did too, for a time. I don’t know why I stopped.

Isabel looks at me. Her eyes are large and dark, framed by impossibly long lashes. “Do you want to have a seat?”

I clear my throat. “Not yet. I’ll get Willa and grab us something to drink first.”

I find my daughter engrossed in a deep discussion with another girl her age. They both have their hair in similar ponytails and, every now and then, they’ll turn and look at something in the distance.

Ah. There are temporary tattoos at this school event. I’m not surprised. I already know she’ll come back with butterflies up her arm.

She lights up when she sees me. “Daddy, come. They’re doing face painting and tattoos. Can I go with Dora to get one?”

“Yes,” I say. “If you come back right after. The movie will start soon.”

She nods and grabs Dora’s hand. “Let’s go.”

I’m left next to a woman who must be Dora’s mother. Her hair is in a delicate updo, and I recognize the pattern on her shoulder bag that flaunts the expensive price tag. She looks like a classic St. Regis mom. My own mother had looked much like that, only in another decade.

“They’re so adorable at that age,” she says and smiles at me. “I’m Francis.”

“Alec,” I say. We shake hands.

She smiles like she already knew that. Maybe she did. “It’s nice to see that you’re here with Willa. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around at these things.”

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