I keep my reply short, deciding not to elaborate on where Rico was when I woke up.
“Huh. Must not be a Vegas local?” Lacey jests, her tone crammed with wit.
I laugh. It’s laced with torment. “From what I witnessed, I'm fairly certain he's a local.”Judge, juror, and executioner local.
Lacey takes a few moments to gather her bases. "So we have a name, a town, and a non-drunk description. Given to the right people, we should have enough info to track down your husband and file for an annulment," she advises, her mannerisms quickly reverting from life-long friend to third-year law student.
Her eyes rocket to mine when I mutter, “Already done.”
“Tracking down your husband or the annulment?” Her words fly out of her mouth in quick succession.
“The annulment. Rico had his lawyer serve me papers during our trip to the airport.”
She scoffs. "Wow! What a jerk. Did you seek alimony or request compensation for him being an asshole?"
“No.” I shake my head.
Her eyes narrow into tiny slits. “It doesn’t matter if you were married for two minutes or two years, Blaire; alimony terms should have been included in your settlement.”
“They were.” I say anything to lessen her furious scowl burning into me. “Rico stipulated an amount he was willing to pay. Even though I didn’t agree with the amount he was offering, I signed the forms.”
She stands from her seated position and rests her hands on her tiny hips. “You never sign a legal document without having a lawyer present, Blaire. How many times have I stated this?” She crosses her arms over her chest and bores her eyes into mine. “What amount did you agree to?”
She falls back into her seat when I breathe out, “Two million dollars.”
“Who the hell did you marry?” Her disbelieving eyes bounce between mine. “A prince from Saudi Araba?”
“He seemed like a Prince. Just not one from any fairytales we’ve read.”
Chapter 6
The remainder of my weekend was spent holed up in my apartment. Although Lacey was apprehensive about my short replies to her grilling set of questions, she did agree that the dissolution of my Vegas wedding was handled in the best manner for both parties involved. It was quick and resolute. Just like every Vegas wedding ends.If only the nicks in my heart could be handled as swiftly.
Adjusting the heavy book satchel on my shoulder, I continue sauntering down the corridor of Ravenshoe Primary School. The chatter of little voices sounds through my ears, and the smell of dirty faces lingers in the air. I enjoyed summer break, but I can't wait to get back to work. This may sound a little geeky, but I missed seeing the smiling faces of my students the past few weeks. There's nothing more beautiful than the innocence in a child’s wide gaze.
My strides down the hallway slow when I notice Timothy Jamison leaning in the doorjamb of his third-grade class. He’s staring at me in a bemused, disarrayed type of way. My heart rate quickens. I really hope I didn’t make a fool out of myself in front of him last weekend.
Timothy was nominated beside me for the Teacher of the Year award. We flew on the same flight to Vegas but were seated several rows away from each other. Due to my failing memory, I don’t know whether to offer him my commiserations, congratulations, or an apology.
Deciding that avoidance is the best remedy for Las Vegas idiocy, I smile a greeting to Timothy before slipping into my classroom three doors up from his. Warmth blooms across my chest when I spot a large red apple sitting on the corner of my desk next to several hand-picked daisies from the front garden of the school. I’m certain the children in my class this year will be absolute sweethearts. I'm always smitten with my class members, I don't care if I have to wipe smelly bottoms for the next sixty years; nothing beats seeing the smiles on my students’ faces when they arrive for class every Monday morning.
My mom was a teacher for over thirty years. She loved each of her students as much as I do. It was watching the way she nurtured her rebellious teenage students to become upstanding young adults that made me want to be a teacher as well. But unlike my mom, I want to shape their minds before they are affected by outside influences.
Kindergarten students don't understand violence, hate or racism. All they care about is whether Peter Rabbit is ever caught by Mr. McGregor and how many minutes remain until lunch. Seeing the innocence in a child's eyes is a truly magnificent sight, and I want them to hold onto that innocence for as long as possible.
I'm halfwaythrough my first lesson of the day when the excitement on my students’ faces grows exponentially. Smiling at their pleased reaction, I shift my eyes back to the book I'm reading them. My lips quirk. Although the story about the fluffy penguin seeking a new set of friends is riveting, I'm still surprised by my students’ wide-mouthed response.
Shrugging off their odd behavior as excitement for the upcoming lunch break, I continue reading. I lose sight of the words scribbled across the page when all twenty-three of my students crank their necks back to peer at something behind my shoulder.
Swallowing to relieve my parched throat, I place the book on my lap and twist my body around. The shocked expression my students are wearing morphs onto my face when I discover who’s holding their interest. Rico has his backside propped on the edge of my desk, grasping my red apple in his hand.
Despite the weather being considerably warm, he’s decked out in a full suit and black trench coat. His face has been recently shaven, but his five o'clock shadow remains even though it's not even noon. His eyes are rapt on me, and he looks deliriously handsome and dangerous at the same time.
A handful of girls in my class squeal when Rico takes a big bite of my apple, sending a crunching sound bouncing around my class.
Clutching my chest to ensure my pounding heart doesn’t escape my chest cavity, I shift my eyes to Mina, my teacher’s aide. “Can you please continue reading the story to the children? I’ll be right back.”
Not waiting for her to reply, I scamper out of my seat, grasp Rico’s hand in mine, and dash into the corridor. The children’s eyes track Rico and me the entire time, their expressions a mix of confusion and excitement.
