But my stomach’s still in knots.
Because every time I see that house, I think of her—barefoot on the porch, mug of coffee in her hand, hair up, eyes sleepy and sharp all at once. I think of late-night arguments that turned into kisses. Of laughter echoing down hallways. Of fights we didn’t know how to fix and things I should’ve said and didn’t.
I just have to remember, I’m here to win her back. To do it right this time. To take responsibility—for the way I pushed her away, for the way I never really showed up until it was too late.
I’m not here temporarily.
This isn’t a visit.
This is a start-over. A second chance.
And if she doesn’t want that—if she’s moved on, if the door is really closed—then fine. I’ll respect that.
That’s a lie.
Not only will I not respect it, but I’ll do everything in my power to destroy it. We belong together and if that’s slipped her mind somehow, then it’s up to me to remind her.
My phone buzzes again just as I reach the edge of the parking lot. Probably another call, another mess someone else made that I must clean up.
But this thing with Elle? That’s my mess. And I’m done running from it.
seventeen
. . .
Elle
The thingabout killing someone with a lawn gnome is that it really throws off your morning routine. I rush to make the kids breakfast and prep lunches. I grab their lunch coolers and start throwing things in them while grabbing the boxed pancake mix. No homemade delectables today!
“Mom! Where were you? We’re going to be late!” Jaq cries. They hate being late.
“What do you mean where was I?” I fake surprise. “I was here, just around doing stuff.” If hell exists, I just shot to the front of the waiting line.
I’m elbow-deep in lies, deception, and pancake batter trying not to spiral, when my phone buzzes.
MAMA DRAMA GROUP CHAT - Sandy, Molly, Jen, Elle, Amy
Great. Nothing says “good morning” like the passive-aggressive mom mafia of West Cedar Lane. I glance at the screen as the messages start to roll in.
SANDY: OMG did y’all see what’s been circulating now??
Circulating now? What does that mean?
JEN: Do you just, like, live on your phone?
MOLLY: Pretty sure it’s surgically attached to her hand at this point.
JEN: What happened now? I don’t think I can take anymore.
What are they talking about?
“What happened to you?” Jill asks. “You’re a mess.”
“What does that even mean just around doing stuff?” Jaq air quotes my words.
“Oh this?” I look down at myself, surprised to see mud and grass on my clothes since I’d changed after moving Doug from the yard. “I was, uh, helping Aunty Amy with some yardwork,” I say.
I glance back at my phone as another notification comes in.