CHAPTER 1
WHEN THE GATE REOPENS
NATALIE
The school year began as always, the chaos at the gate, parents juggling coffee cups and brand-new Stoney Clover and Pottery Barn backpacks, kids in crisp uniforms darting through the crowd like they hadn’t seen their friends in years.
But as I stood there, smiling and waving, 8-year-old Bebe and 6-year-old James ran toward their classmates, I felt him before I even saw him.
Will.
I noticed him like a scent that clings to your clothes long after you’ve left the room. Unmistakable. Lingering. Something I hadn’t prepared for.
I turned slowly, bracing myself, and there he was. Standing just beyond the gate, casually leaning against the car. His sandy blond hair caught the light, and he looked as infuriatingly good as I remembered. Maybe better.
Then I saw her.
She stepped out of the passenger seat. Everything about her made my stomach churn. She was effortlessly put together with sun-kissed skin, oversized Prada sunglasses, a black form-fitting dress, and Dior slides. She moved with calm self-assurance, smoothing her hair like she belonged in the spotlight. And then the real gut punch. Will’s daughter Ivy got out of the backseat and smiled up at this living Barbie doll before racing into school.
Will glanced up, his eyes meeting mine with a pull so magnetic it almost hurt. Just a second—maybe two—but it was enough. The memory of us surged back, sharp and unwelcome. I wondered if he felt it too.
Just as quickly, his expression shifted. Hardened. He turned away, saying something to the woman beside him, as if I wasn’t there. As if none of it had ever happened.
I forced a smile. Pretended I didn’t feel the ache rising in my chest. Pretended I didn’t want to run.
I hurried to my car and closed the door. My fingers trembling slightly against the steering wheel, adrenaline still pulsing through me.
I needed a lifeline, something to pull me back before I spiraled.
I grabbed my phone and texted my dear friend and neighbor, Camille.
Natalie: Emergency coffee after Pilates? Also, I want to hear everything about Europe.
Camille: Of course, love. I saw that blonde bitch get out of the car with Will.
I laughed, half choking on the frustration. Camille always had a way of making me feel seen. Still, the way Will looked at me, just for a second, before turning back to her. The way shemoved so effortlessly, like she belonged there, like she belonged with him, made my blood run cold.
“Focus, Nat,”Camille said softly from the reformer beside me. “Breathe. We’ll dissect it all over coffee.”
By the time we made it to our usual café, my emotions were simmering just beneath the surface. Camille ordered for both of us and we settled into a corner table, tucked away from the buzz.
“So,” she began, narrowing her eyes, “what’s the deal with Will and Blondie?”
I sighed, wrapping my hands around the warm latte. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone. I mean, of course he’s seeing someone, but...”
“But you weren’t ready for the visual confirmation?” she offered.
“Exactly.”
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “What’s her story? Did you recognize her?”
“No,” I said. “What I do know is she’s... perfect. Polished. The kind of woman who probably wakes up looking like that.”
Camille raised an eyebrow. “You’re no slouch yourself. Don’t give her that much credit.”
I smiled, but it was weak. “Thanks. It’s not just that. It’s seeing him with her. The way he looked at me, like I didn’t exist.”
“He’s probably trying to save face,” Camille said. “Protect whatever situation he’s got going on with Miss Dior Slides. Doesn’t mean he’s over you.”
