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Michael’s left the room, so I clean up the mess. Grabbing some paper towels, I get on my hands and knees and wipe the floor clean.

The damn Valium refuses to kick in, only adding to the mounting pressure to get the hell out of here once Rosa arrives.

Jessa returns to the kitchen, agreeing finally to eat the Lucky Charms. I breathe a sigh of relief until Rosa finally turns up.

It’s another hour before I make it back to my house, or should I say Scarlett’s house. Upon entering, everything feels surreal, so empty and large. Cameras are set up in the main living room, and extra lighting has been added.

Morgan’s positioned on the couch, dressed in my white, off-the-shoulder Gucci dress. It’s like stepping into a time machine, it’s the exact dress and position I was sitting in two weeks ago.

But the biggest shock of all is seeing her in my body.

My face.

My everything.

Her glance shifts to where I’m standing, and almost instantly she demands a break from the photoshoot.

The sound of her heels clicking against the marble floors echo with every forceful step she takes. Throwing her arms into the air, she’s quick to berate me. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes,” I respond, dazed as I stare at her. I’m looking at myself. What the fuck? “It’s been the morning from hell, Morg. I mean… Scarlett. Noah just went to work, and I was left dealing with the kids.”

“Well, that’s no surprise, you complain about them all the time.”

“I know… but how am I supposed to take care of kids?” I beg for an answer. “This morning was…” I trail off and close my eyes.

Morgan stares at me in confusion, pursing her lips exactly how I used to when I was annoyed. “You’re a mother. It’s instinct. Besides, you have Rosa and Noah. Just hire someone else if it’s that stressful.”

She shifts her glance sideways at the mention of his name. I wondered if everything is exactly reversed in our lives. Is she in love with him as I was?

I quickly change subjects. “I need to talk to you about the Halloween party… and the dress.”

“The Halloween party? I don’t have time right now,” she chides. “Besides, that’s next week. As for the dress, Valentino has managed to find something. Whatever! I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

Morgan walks back toward the camera crew, leaving me to stand alone in the hallway. Once her attention is diverted back to the photoshoot, I race up to my bedroom in search of the dress.

With the door locked behind me, I rummage through my closet, pushing garment after garment aside with no sign of the dress. Morgan mentioned the party is next week. So, if time is replaying events, it will mean the dress won’t arrive here until next Friday.

Fuck, what do I do?

I slump against the wall, falling onto the floor. The room begins to spin, forcing me to shut my eyes until the spinning eases, and the wave of panic subdues slightly.

I have no idea why this has happened, nor if it’s still a dream or maybe even a nightmare. I fucking don’t know how to be a mother or a wife, and I have no idea how to do all the things my sister does so easily.

I’m spoiled.

A Hollywood brat turned diva.

There’s absolutely no one I can turn to. No one who will understand what the universe has done to me. If I say anything, I’ll sound like a crazed lunatic, a step away from being checked in to an asylum.

The thought alone terrifies me. Maybe I’ve developed schizophrenia. Classic symptoms involve a breakdown in the relation between thought, emotion, and behavior, all of which leads to faulty perception, inappropriate actions and feelings, withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion.

This is the fantasy I wished for every night.

My purse vibrates, warning me of a text. In an effort to distract my sadistic thought processes, I pull it out and read the message. It’s from Noah.

Noah: I promise to be a better man, and I need you to know I love you. You’re the only one for me. Promise me we’ll always make us work. Just you and me, baby, ride or die.

The feeling is so strange, it stretches throughout my whole body. A warmth consuming me whole by a few simple words said in a text message.


Tags: Kat T. Masen Romance