“What is this?” Maggie scrambled to brush the popcorn off her legs and onto the floor.
“Mama, Arlo helped me make popcorn but this tastes bad,” Rosie said, her eyes welling with tears. “Help.”
Maggie took a deep breath, willing herself back from the edge of losing her patience. She put a hand on Rosie’s shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. I’ll help you get some popcorn. First step, let’s get the vacuum.”
The air inside Found& Chosen was cool, pine-scented, and threaded with Motown. Maggie had meant to sneak in to drop off the tags she’d just picked up at the printer near thekids’ school, but Colette caught her lurking by a tulip-shaped hanging lamp.
“Tell me you’re not such a loser without a life that you have to hang out here for fun,” Colette said, walking out from the beaded curtain to the back room.
Maggie gave her a thin smile. “It’s less chaotic than home.”
Colette, tall and cat-eyed in a vintage silk robe over wide-leg jeans, slid a pair of sunglasses on top of her head. “Okay, so what’s with the energy? You look like someone put your self-esteem through a pasta roller.”
Maggie leaned on the counter. “Nothing. Rosie and Arlo tried to burn down the house yesterday with popcorn, but crisis averted. Do you think daytime sequins still fly in Vegas, or has it gotten too boring?”
Colette gave her a long, assessing stare. “Vegas isn’t real life. But sometimes, stepping out of real life for a minute shows you what matters most when you come back.”
“Did we get some psilocybin in the latest shipment or what? When did you become so…” Maggie gestured. “Zen? Wise? Quotable? About sequins.”
Colette tapped her temple. “Just tapping into my higher self.”
“Does that require a cult oath to a fake guru, or can you do that all on your own?” Maggie teased.
“Maybe you should come with me to one of my meditation retreats. Silence might do you good,” Colette said, shrugging.
Maggie snorted. “Being alone with my thoughts sounds like hell, not a reprieve.”
Colette smirked. “See? That’s exactly why you need it. To learn the difference between intentional quiet and internal panic.”
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Or maybe I just need cocktails and sequins.”
“Sequins are a form of meditation,” Colette said smoothly, but Maggie could see a mischievous glint in her friend’s eye. “Each one reflects its own light, each one a tiny mantra.”
“God, you’re insufferable,” Maggie said, but she was laughing now, tension loosening in her shoulders.
“I feel like I’d be a really good cult leader,” Colette replied. She leaned across the counter. “Seriously, Maggie, you okay? You’ve got a pre-Vegas spiral look.”
“I’ll survive.” Maggie rubbed her temple. “I just… don’t know what I’m doing. And I hate packing.”
“Packing is just editing your life down to the things you want to be seen in,” Colette said. “No wonder it’s stressful.”
Maggie barked a laugh. “Okay, you’re terrifyingly good at this. Anything else, cult leader?”
Colette smirked. “Yeah. Take the sequins. Always take the sequins.”
Maggie took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for the weekend ahead. “I’ll see you when I get back?”
“You can always call if you need, okay?” Colette said, giving her hand a squeeze.
Maggie saluted casually, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. But as she stepped into the bright Texas sun, the humidity hugging her skin like a too-warm blanket, her heart gave a quiet lurch. She didn’t know what she was doing — still. Only that she was about to board a plane with her almost-ex-wife and a suitcase full of half-truths. And if clarity didn’t come soon, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending that she wasn’t unraveling.
When Maggie got home, the kitchen smelled faintly of grilled cheese and the air was full of the chaotic hum of the kids’ voices. Gwen was at the table with Jude, orchestrating an elaborate marble run that zigzagged across books and overturned mixing bowls while Arlo tried to crash a monster truck into the structure. Rosie lay on her stomach nearby, coloring and softly singing.
Maggie bent down, kissed each kid on the forehead, and headed upstairs to finish packing.
“Listen,” Gwen said from the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in that maddeningly casual way she had. “I’ll back out of the Vegas trip if you really want.”
Colette’s words floated up in Maggie’s memory — about stepping out of real life for a while. “No. I’m still a fucking coward, and I didn’t tell Danica. And they’re so excited to see you,” she admitted, rubbing at her eyes.
