Page 106 of Under Southern Stars
“This car is insane,” Madison comments, running her hand over the leather dashboard. “It’s like, way nicer than Mr. Cushman’s BMW, and he’s always bragging about it.”
I say nothing, focusing on getting us safely down the long driveway that leads away from the McKenzie Estate. The windshield wipers activate when I mean to signal a turn, and I fumble with the controls, feeling incompetent on top of everything else.
“Other side, Mom,” Madison says helpfully. “Everything’s backward here.”
“Perfect metaphor,” I mutter as I finally find the correct lever.
Madison glances up from her phone. “You okay? You seem…upset.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, not wanting to burden her with my emotional turmoil. “Just adjusting to driving on the wrong side of the road.”
She watches me for a moment longer, then returns to her phone. “This Wanaka Tree is super famous on Instagram. It grows right out of the lake. People come from all over the world to take pictures of it.”
“That’s what Lily said,” I reply, grateful for the neutral topic.
The landscape unfolds as we drive, vineyards giving way to rolling hills that climb toward mountains. Under other circumstances, I would have been captivated by the beauty. Now it feels like another layer of deception—the perfect backdrop for the fairy tale I’d been living.
“Mom, slow down,” Madison says suddenly. “You’re drifting right.”
I jerk the wheel, correcting our position. “Sorry. Still getting used to this.”
“So…” Madison begins carefully. “Are we going to talk about Jack’s family being, like, super rich?”
I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “I didn’t know you’d noticed.”
She gives me her patented teenage are-you-serious look. “Mom. They have a mansion with staff and a wine empire. Kind of hard to miss.”
“Yes, well. It was certainly a surprise.”
“Did you really not know?” she asks, her voice softer now. “He never said anything?”
“No,” I say, the single syllable heavy with hurt. “He never mentioned any of it.”
Madison is quiet for a moment, processing. “That’s weird. I mean, it’s kind of a big thing to leave out.”
“Yes, it is.” I focus on the road, not trusting myself to say more without my voice betraying my emotions.
“But,” Madison continues thoughtfully, “he’s still the same Jack, right? The one who taught me to make pasta and brought you coffee and stuff?”
The question cuts straight to the heart of my confusion. “I don’t know, Madison. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
A car approaches from the opposite direction, and I instinctively drift right before jerking back to the left lane, heart pounding.
“Wrong side,” Madison reminds me, her hand bracing against the dashboard. “Remember where you are.”
But that is exactly the problem, isn’t it? I hadn’t known where I was—in Jack’s life, in his world, in his heart. I’d thought I was falling for a man who understood what it meant to live paycheck to paycheck, who valued the same simple things I did. Instead, I’d fallen for a billionaire playing at being ordinary.
Playing paramedic, Helen had said. As if saving lives was a diversion, not a vocation.
“Do you think that’s why he became a paramedic?” Madison asks, as if reading my thoughts. “Because he’s rich and wanted to try something different?”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I admit. “I just know that he wasn’t honest with me.”
“Like Dad wasn’t honest?” Her voice is smaller now.
The comparison hits me hard. “Your father’s situation was different. He…changed over time. Jack kept this from me from the beginning.”
“But Dad was fake about, like, everything. Jack just didn’t tell you about his family being rich.” Madison pauses, considering. “Which is still messed up, but not as bad as Dad pretending to be a good person when he really wasn’t.”
