Chapter 1

[Addison]

Today, my son Jayson turns 6 years old. 

It’s not every day that my child turns 6, so I worked extra hard to make it special. It meant squeezing a whole day of work into two hours so I could rush home, prep his favorite meal, and ice his cake. But when I see his smiling face, it will all be worth it. 

“Mrs. Stone,” the crossing guard., Mrs. Jenkins greets me as I approach my son’s school. “What’s the occasion? This wouldn’t be for a special little gentlemen’s special day?”

Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at the balloons in my hands, and looks down to see my knee-length, rhinestone dress that floats from my waist like a cloud of cotton candy. 

“Well, it isn’t every day Jayson turns 6,” I smile back at her. I never dress like this, preferring the practicality of a smartly tailored suit and the simplicity of a face clean of makeup, but Jayson always wanted me to be like “the other mommies,” who wore fancy jewelry and sparkling dresses. 

 “I thought I’d be a princess for him today.” I point at the tiara and glitter. “He thinks I dress ‘too much like a boy’” I say with air quotes, remembering my little guy’s confusion when I explained that girls can wear whatever they want and still be girls–even without tiaras. 

“Well you look spectacular, Mrs. Stone,” The sage grandma nods in approval her gentle smile extending across her face as she holds back the cars for me. My heart lifts, feeling her warm gaze follow my movements as I safely approach the main gates of Westwind Academy, one of the most prestigious schools in the Upper East Side.  

It’s a rare occasion that I can take this much time off just to be with my little guy. I work in my husband’s law office and often work later hours than he does as his assistant and co-council. The law waits for no one, but neither does childhood. Jayson is growing up so quickly. Before I know it he’ll be off and gone, heading to college and I’ll miss all these small moments.

I just want to make him happy. Isn’t that what every mother wants?

“Jayson!” I call out when he doesn’t meet me by the gate.  Maybe I missed him? 

“Jayson, where are you?” I try again. This is strange. I even sent a text to his teacher reminding her that I’d be picking my son up early for his birthday. And now he seems to be missing.

“Did I make a mistake?” My fingers grip the cast-iron bars of the school gate as I pull my phone from my purse. No, it is Monday the 7th, 1 pm. The reminder is in my calendar with a note reminding me to pick him up early. There are no text messages saying that anything has changed, no note from his father or his school. He should be standing right there, in his usual spot, next to the lilacs. 

Just as I turn towards the school office, my son’s lilting laughter carries on the wind like birdsong. My skirt floats around me, twirling as I look for the source, hoping to find my son laughing as he runs towards me. 

What I see instead is a beautiful family–mother, father, and child. The man, tall and handsome has beautiful cheekbones and the brightest blue eyes. Holding onto him is a little boy with hair so blonde it looks almost white, a shade or two brighter than my own. On the little one’s other side, the mother is holding onto him, her petite hand griping his small one with tenderness, her perfect golden blonde hair cascading down her back in gentle waves, diamonds glistening on her ears and wrists. 

It is a beautiful scene except for one thing–that’s my family. My husband and my son. But that woman with her elegant clothes and her effortless beauty isn’t me. 

As she turns her head towards the gate, the sunlight illuminates her profile, making her hair glow like a halo of gold. She has the face of an angel, with small, perfectly formed lips and luminescent eyes, large and golden-brown like a cat, like a more vibrant version of my hazel. 

She is stunning. And familiar. 

No. I must be mistaken. It can’t be her. Michael would have told me if she were back in town. 

The woman raises her eyes and our gazes connect from across the field. She places a hand on Michael's shoulder before pointing in my direction, smiling warmly and I know at once I am not mistaken after all. 

That’s Michael’s first love, the girl who broke his heart and left him a shattered mess for me to heal in her wake. His college girlfriend whose picture still resides behind his driver’s license in the front pocket of his wallet, right behind our wedding picture and the baby picture of his son. 

Evelyn Valentine.