“I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“I know.” I force the garbled words out through my swollen throat.
“I’m falling in love with you.” He stands in front of me, all milk-chocolate-colored brown eyes full of hope and adoration, and perfectly decorated cookies on a silver tray.
“Me too,” I whisper. He moves in and leans over. I kiss him. Cheers, applause, and camera clicks go up around us, and for once, I couldn’t care less. Breathing hard, I grin. “I’m sorry. I won’t doubt you again.”
“Can I come back there and help you sell now? We said we’d do this together.”
“Please.”
If the booth was busy before, traffic has doubled now. Time moves swiftly as we sling cookies like pros. My heart is full, and my mind is calm. Whoever did this has their own issues. I don’t want my daughter to be a media darling, but I can’t control others’ actions. Trying to would bring me back to the dark place I struggled to claw my way out of post-divorce.
“Ladies and gentleman, we’ll be announcing the winner of the cookie contest shortly.”
“Eek.”
“You got this.” Anders leans down and kisses the top of my head.
I search the crowd, looking for Jackson and Clementine. He’s picked her up from school and took her to get something to eat before he brought her here. I spot them in the sea of faces and stand on the tips of my toes, waving wildly. Jackson nods and smiles. The expression fades quickly as he sees Anders beside me. I find myself wondering once more if he was the one who leaked the picture. No one would question him being around my home. Before, I’d say he wouldn’t sink that low, but my trust for him has been broken so badly I’m not sure what to think. They walk over, and Clem’s eyes light up. She breaks away from her father to bolt for the table.
“Anders.”
“Hey, Clementine!” He grabs her smaller hand and squeezes it gently.
“You helped Mommy sell cookies?”
“I did. She’s been swamped.”
“I’m sure your presence helps,” Jackson mumbles.
“You should try a cookie.” I shove it into his mouth before he can start more drama.
“Jackson. Over here.” Brittany’s shrill voice cuts through the crowded gym.
Jesus, that’s his future.
He waves at her dismissively.
“This year’s the trophy for best cookie goes to ...” I hold my breath. “Matilda Lawson.”
“No.” Brittany’s cry is followed by cookies being flung to the ground. My eyes widen as she stomps over, a ball of fury.
“Why are you over here with her instead of me? She gets everything. You’re mine. We’re getting married, and yet she’s all you talk about, Jackson.” She shoves at his chest. “Why did you even leave her if you weren’t going to let her go?”
He grabs her arms. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You are.” Her shoulders shake with sobs. I almost feel bad for her as she melts down in front of God and everyone. “You’re never going to love me.”
“Of course I love you. We’re getting married.”
“Not like her.” She turns her mascara-smeared face to me. “I had the pictures taken, and you ran to her.” I turn to Anders, shocked at the lengths she’d gone to. Brittany’s hand trembles as she removes the diamond ring and places it in his hand. “I can’t compete with a memory.”
“Holy crap,” Jordan whispers.
I nod, numb.
“You should accept your prize,” Anders says, leading me and Clem away from the scene unfolding in front of us. The golden cookie trop