Wendy
The preschool was a riot of color and noise.
Bright paper banners hung between the large oak trees, spelling out "Family Picnic Day" in messy, painted handprints.
The warm morning air smelled of cut grass, painting and sweet juice boxes.
Everywhere I looked, there were parents laughing, pushing their children on the swings and laying out plaid blankets on the green lawn.
It was a picture-perfect morning.
Reed walked beside me with his large hand firmly wrapping mine. He had shed his suit jacket and tie in the car, leaving his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
He looked devastatingly handsome, turning the heads of more than a few passing mothers, but his eyes were only scanning the playground for one thing.
"Are you sure yo
