Just as I was about to open the door, however, a firm hand shot out and shoved it shut again. I stopped in my tracks, my hand lingering on the doorknob, as I looked up to see Noah’s tall form towering over me.

“Why are you leaving?” he whispered, leaning closer. “What about the car?”

I simply shrugged and placed one hand on my hip. “I figured you could call the driver to pick you up whenever you’re ready,” I said, glancing around the corner to see Zoe still bustling around the kitchen with a satisfied smile on her face. “Although, you seem cozy enough here. Maybe you should stay a few days.”

Noah visibly bristled at my words, his ears turning a new shade of red.

“Why would I stay here?” he growled.

I didn’t bother to answer; I simply tilted my chin down at him and shot him a scathing look through my eyebrows before roughly yanking the door open, causing him to lose his grip and stumble backward. I then held my hand out flat and waited.

Noah clenched his jaw for a moment, his eyes darting back and forth across my face, before he finally sighed. Fishing his car keys out of his pocket, he plopped them in my hand and stalked off.

Without so much as a glance back, I strode down the path to the car and drove away. Pulling over to the side of the road, I put the car in park near a small sign and peered through the windshield. “Bake Sale,” the sign read. “Children’s Center Fundraiser.”

My stomach was growling again, and the idea of a muffin sounded appealing—and besides, I didn’t feel like going home. Out of spite, I felt like taking Noah’s precious car for a joyride. Maybe I would even take it to the next town over for some shopping later.

As I walked inside the small community center, I was immediately hit with the sweet scent of confections and the sound of soft music. Tables were scattered around, laden with various baked goods, and I slipped my sunglasses onto my head as I browsed.

“Luna Hannah? Is that you?” a soft voice suddenly asked. I lifted my head to see a middle-aged woman in an apron walking up to me, a group of young children watching from afar.

“Hello,” I said with a smile. “How can I help you?”

The woman beamed at me and wrung her hands a bit as she nodded toward the kids. “I’m Maggie, one of the instructors at the preschool. The kids recognized you and wanted me to ask if you’d like to join us for our dreamcatcher-making session.”

Quirking an eyebrow, I peered past the woman at the group of kids; they were all quite small, wearing matching little aprons and watching with wonder on their tiny faces. Instantly, I felt whatever anger I had been feeling before ebb away. I offered the woman a grin and nodded. “I’d love to join. Thank you for inviting me.”

I followed the woman to the kids, who shyly greeted me with bashful looks on their faces. Crouching down to each of them, I greeted them all by name, taking my time to comment on their hair, face paint, or aprons.

Over the next half hour, I joined in on the dreamcatcher session; I sat on the floor with the kids, helping them properly wrap the string and attach the beads and feathers. It was moments like this—being with the children, surrounded by their innocence and the sounds of their tinkling laughter—that I felt most at ease. In fact, I had all but forgotten about Noah and Zoe by the time our dreamcatchers were finished, and I even agreed to stay for another arts and crafts session.

“Thank you, Luna Hannah!” one of the little boys said, holding his dreamcatcher up triumphantly. “Now I can tell everyone that I got to play with a Luna!”

I laughed and pinched his cheek. “And now I get to tell everyone that I got to play with you kids,” I said.

Suddenly, however, a familiar male voice cut through the din of tiny children’s laughter. “Fancy seeing you here.”