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“I’ve got some new projects I’m working on, and I’m just not going to have the time. I’m sorry, kiddo.” She was silent for a minute or so. I waited until I pulled up to a stop sign before turning around to look at her. “Did you hear me?”
To my utter astonishment, her bottom lip was sticking out in a pout, and her eyes were welling up with tears. She sniffled. “You can’t stop.”
I let out a silent laugh. “Finley—you barely acknowledge me when I’m there. I think I talk to Walter more than I talk to you. You’ll be fine. What’s up with this reaction, kiddo?”
“You have to keep coming.” Her voice quivered—she was on the verge of sobbing. “We’re having the Halloween party on Wednesday. You can’t miss it. We’re going to match and look so cute together, Daddy. I want all my friends to see us. And Ms. Devin.”
Fuuuuck. I gripped the steering wheel hard and sighed. I guessed it wouldn’t do much harm if I went in one more time. Surely Kendall and I could keep things friendly for one day. I shook my head as I drove, realizing I was letting this kid manipulate my emotions again. She had me wrapped around her little finger, didn’t she? “All right,” I said with a sigh, and she clapped.
I hadn’t realized my presence in her classroom mattered to her so much. And maybe it didn’t. But when that bottom lip poked out and she gave me those puppy dog eyes, I would do whatever she said. Maybe I could endure working beside Kendall a little longer.
For all I knew, Kendall might have been on the verge of asking me to stop volunteering herself. When my phone lit up with a text message from her as we pulled into the driveway, I assumed the worst. She was probably about to ask me to back off, saying it would be for the best for both of us.
But she’d sent me a photo of one of the illustrations inside the book—it was a sketch of some decorative baskets in a kids’ playroom, and I’d labeled one of them FINLEY.
Kendall: I see what you did there.
I smiled, having completely forgotten about that detail. At the time, I assumed it wouldn’t have passed the first round of edits, but the creators loved it. I’d have to get a copy of the book myself to show Finley later—she’d be delighted to see her name in a real book. I turned around to tell her about it when my phone buzzed again.
Kendall: And I read your note.
Kendall: It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, too.
chapter thirty
kendall
Kendall-
You being Finley’s teacher is the best thing to ever happen to both of us. You somehow make living in Woodvale bearable—and I’ll never regret swiping right on you.
I feel like I’m supposed to throw in a pun here about how “flipping fabulous” you are, but I think “fucking phenomenal” is more accurate.
-Mason
I read Mason’s note the second my students left for lunch that day, and I’d read it twenty times since. At least. Jamie and Daya read it, too, each of them offering different but equally valid opinions.
“Aww! You know he’s falling in love with you, right?”
(Daya.)
“He’s just spitting game to get in your pants again.”
(Jamie.)
There was probably some truth in both of their theories. I feared we were past the point of no return now. What was meant to be some one-night thing was turning into something more. Our connection was more than just physical—and I knew he was feeling it too, especially after reading those words.
Mason made me weak in the knees in a way no other man had before. And even after that confrontation with Lori, I was edging closer to throwing in the towel, saying “fuck it,” and telling him I wanted to keep sneaking around.
But to ask him to do such a thing would be unfair, wouldn’t it? I’d been in that position before, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. Mason was so family-oriented, too—he clearly loved his mom, and his cousin was his best friend, for Christ’s sake. He wouldn’t want to date someone he couldn’t even bring around his family.
And Finley, the center of Mason’s entire universe, deserved some stability and some semblance of a family—two things I wasn’t entirely sure I could offer. I wouldn’t let myself be the reason for any more disruption in her or Mason’s lives.
If it wouldn’t have been for the Halloween party on Wednesday, I might have asked Mason to stop volunteering. I could see he was nearing that conclusion himself, so it seemed like the right thing to do. But I wasn’t about to wrangle twenty-five sugared-up kindergarteners in costumes for an entire day by myself. I needed his help.
He strolled into the classroom on Halloween wearing snorkeling gear and a homemade oxygen tank he’d fashioned out of a couple of two-liter bottles. As ridiculous as it all was, I melted when I saw him—because Finley had shown up that day in a jellyfish costume.
They matched.
