“What’s your name again?” he asked.
I gave him a look to let him know my name was none of his business, but I was in a school, and I was aware of the rules and security must be a little different now. “I’m Journey Milan.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Journey Milan.”
“Yup, that’s me.” I was almost positive there was no Amy Milan enrolled at the school, but I could be divorced. I am divorced. It wasn’t too far off from the truth.
“I once knew a Journey. It’s not a common name.”
I shrugged, wondering why I felt concerned that he might have known me at some point in my life. “Maybe, the name is more common than you think.”
“Did you ever have red hair?” Shit. He knew me. Did we graduate together or something?
In response, I ran my fingers through my hair. “No, I’m a brunette. So, I guess there is more than one person named Journey.”
“Is Milan your maiden name or married name?”
“Married name.”
“What’s your maiden name, Journey?”
“Why does it matter?” I asked.
“Why do you seem nervous?” he pressed.
Other than preferring to be incognito, I didn’t recognize the guy and preferred to know who I was talking to before spilling private information.
“Because I need to watch Parker, and she has disappeared,” I told him. I began making my way through the crowd of chatting parents, trying to spot a cute little girl wearing a magenta tutu. The color was bright enough to stand out, but I didn’t see a child with a tutu or pigtail buns. I walked down the hall toward the bathroom signs, hoping to find her there. I didn’t get far without hearing footsteps follow from behind.
“Did you seriously lose Parker?” Grizzly-beard asked. I don’t think it’s something I’d be joking about.
“She was with me one second and gone the next. I didn’t think she’d run off during the bake sale.”
The man groaned. “Maybe if you weren’t so concerned with your phone or sneaking cookies, you would have seen where she went.”
I spun around to face the guy. “Are you kidding me right now?”
He smirks. “Maybe.”
“This isn’t funny. I need to find her,” I told him.
“Okay, well, it’s a little funny because Parker is at my table with my daughter since you sold out of cookies. I heard you ate them all, but no judgment,” he coughed out the last few words. “Anyway, that’s how I discovered Parker has some random ‘mom’ sitting with her. So, I came to see who you are.”
“And who are you to be so concerned?” I retaliated.
The guy folded his muscle-clad arms over his chest as if he were trying to pull off the appearance of the Brawny paper-towel dude. The fleece shirt he was wearing wasn’t helping. “I’m Brody Pearson, Parker’s uncle.”
Brody Pearson. The Brody Pearson, who assisted me in the process of disrupting my life, as well as others. I knew he looked familiar. That beard, though—so deceiving.
That was the best “oh shit” moment of the night, in the worst way.
“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t realize you would be here.” Why the hell didn’t Brett tell his brother to bring Parker to the bake sale? Dammit. I was aware his brother—Brody had a daughter. I should have assumed he’d be here. The thought didn’t cross my mind.
“I’m head of the PTA, so yeah, I’m here.” Brody Pearson, head of the PTA. It sounded like a joke.
“Head of the PTA?” I laughed. “You?”
Brody glanced from side to side as if I was joking. I was, but my laughter was at his expense.
