Charlotte had left them at Rory's school on purpose.
Not because her schedule was suddenly bursting at the seams—though it always was—but because Madison had told her, in that flat, surgical way Madison delivered truth like a scalpel: Vanessa's been looking at him. You know the look. The one that says she's ready to let him be the father of her daughter and spread her own thighs for him in the same heartbeat. Give them space. They'll be fucking before they hit the freeway.
And knowing Peter, probably before the seatbelt sign in her brain even switched off.)
Madison had never once been wrong. Not about her man and fellow women's desire after they meet him, not about the moment a woman's body decided before her mind caught up that she'd let him ruin her.
