The Right Kind of Wrong (The Kind of Perfect #2)

Chapter 1

WHEN THE GATE REOPENS

NATALIE

The school year began as always, the chaos at the gate, parents juggling coffee cups and brand-new Stoney Clover and Pottery Barn backpacks, kids in crisp uniforms darting through the crowd like they hadn’t seen their friends in years.

Will.

I noticed him like a scent that clings to your clothes long after you’ve left the room. Unmistakable. Lingering. Something I hadn’t prepared for.

I turned slowly, bracing myself, and there he was. Standing just beyond the gate, casually leaning against the car. His sandy blond hair caught the light, and he looked as infuriatingly good as I remembered. Maybe better.

Then I saw her.

She stepped out of the passenger seat. Everything about her made my stomach churn.

She was effortlessly put together with sun-kissed skin, oversized Prada sunglasses, a black form-fitting dress, and Dior slides.

She moved with calm self-assurance, smoothing her hair like she belonged in the spotlight.

And then the real gut punch. Will’s daughter Ivy got out of the backseat and smiled up at this living Barbie doll before racing into school.

Will glanced up, his eyes meeting mine with a pull so magnetic it almost hurt. Just a second—maybe two—but it was enough. The memory of us surged back, sharp and unwelcome. I wondered if he felt it too.

Just as quickly, his expression shifted. Hardened. He turned away, saying something to the woman beside him, as if I wasn’t there. As if none of it had ever happened.

I forced a smile. Pretended I didn’t feel the ache rising in my chest. Pretended I didn’t want to run.

I hurried to my car and closed the door. My fingers trembling slightly against the steering wheel, adrenaline still pulsing through me.

I needed a lifeline, something to pull me back before I spiraled.

I grabbed my phone and texted my dear friend and neighbor, Camille.

Natalie: Emergency coffee after Pilates? Also, I want to hear everything about Europe.

Camille: Of course, love. I saw that blonde bitch get out of the car with Will.

I laughed, half choking on the frustration. Camille always had a way of making me feel seen. Still, the way Will looked at me, just for a second, before turning back to her. The way she moved so effortlessly, like she belonged there, like she belonged with him, made my blood run cold.

“Focus, Nat,” Camille said softly from the reformer beside me. “Breathe. We’ll dissect it all over coffee.”

By the time we made it to our usual café, my emotions were simmering just beneath the surface. Camille ordered for both of us and we settled into a corner table, tucked away from the buzz.

“So,” she began, narrowing her eyes, “what’s the deal with Will and Blondie?”

I sighed, wrapping my hands around the warm latte. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know he was seeing someone. I mean, of course he’s seeing someone, but...”

“But you weren’t ready for the visual confirmation?” she offered.

“Exactly.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. “What’s her story? Did you recognize her?”

“No,” I said. “What I do know is she’s... perfect. Polished. The kind of woman who probably wakes up looking like that.”

Camille raised an eyebrow. “You’re no slouch yourself. Don’t give her that much credit.”

I smiled, but it was weak. “Thanks. It’s not just that. It’s seeing him with her. The way he looked at me, like I didn’t exist.”

“He’s probably trying to save face,” Camille said. “Protect whatever situation he’s got going on with Miss Dior Slides. Doesn’t mean he’s over you.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I ended it. I chose my family.”

Camille tilted her head, her expression softening. “And how’s that going? You and Jason? Is the divorce final? I feel like I missed so much while I was gone.”

I smiled. “You kind of did. I missed you. And yes, it’s final. That chapter has closed.”

“I missed you too,” she said, squeezing my hand. “Six weeks visiting family in France sounds glamorous until you’re dying for your own bed and someone who actually gets your jokes.”

I laughed softly. “Well, while you were off sipping Lillet cocktails and posting sun-kissed photos from Paris, I was figuring out life as a sort-of single mom.”

“And?” she asked gently.

“It’s... working. Surprisingly well. Separate lives, but we’re aligned when it comes to the kids. The summer was smooth, no big drama, no tension. The kids are happy. That’s what matters.”

Camille gave me a look that was equal parts encouragement and caution. “I’m glad. Truly. You deserve peace after everything.”

I nodded, taking a slow sip of coffee. Peace. That’s what I’d been craving. So why did it still feel like something was missing?

Jason and I had come a long way since spring. After everything came out—his kiss with Shannon, my affair with Will—it felt like the end. But as the weeks turned into months, we found a way to coexist.

Jason moved into a condo a few miles away, and we agreed on a schedule that worked best for the kids. The arrangement turned out better than I expected. He adjusted his travel to be more present, and I worked hard to make the kids feel stable, no matter whose house they were at.

The holidays would be the real test. But for now, we were okay. I didn’t resent him anymore. The anger I’d held onto had dissolved, replaced by something quieter. Acceptance.

Still, seeing Will again had shaken something loose, something I wasn’t ready to face. I’d told myself it was over. What we had was intoxicating but fleeting. Something that couldn’t survive the weight of real life.

So why did it still feel unfinished?

Camille reached across the table, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Earth to Natalie. You, okay?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “I’m fine.”

She gave me a look but didn’t push. “Good. Now, let’s talk about something that doesn’t involve men.”

“Great idea,” I said.

We moved into lighter conversation, including dissecting the latest episode of “Selling Sunset” like Chrishell was our best friend.

It felt good to be back into a routine. Summer had a way of taking over. It was nice to return to the simple stuff. After saying goodbye, I carried on with my day—grocery run, folding laundry, sketching ideas for a new design project.

But that night, after the kids were asleep, I found myself scrolling aimlessly through my phone. I had deleted Will’s contact, but at that moment, I regretted it.

I tossed the phone aside and sank back into the couch. This wasn’t who I wanted to be—a woman clinging to what was already over, torturing herself with what-ifs.

But when I closed my eyes, there he was again.

Unbidden. Unwelcome.

Will.

Always Will.