Nope. Too sappy to say aloud.
“They can eat on the bus to the test, or during the testing break.” She spread her hands. “I can’t afford to feed them every day. But I can afford to feed them tomorrow, so a year’s effort doesn’t go to waste because they’re too hungry to concentrate.”
With his typical deliberateness, he thought for a minute before responding.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think this”—he gestured to the bags—“is wonderful. Beautiful, actually. But don’t needy kids have access to free breakfast and lunch at school?”
“Even some of the kids who can afford breakfast might forget to eat.” Her arms ached from carrying the bags from the parking lot, and her head had begun to throb an hour or so ago. She was too tired to prevaricate, and she didn’t need to. Not with him. “Besides, if they’re anything like me, some of the poorest kids in my class haven’t applied for free breakfast and lunch in the first place.”
He closed his eyes in understanding. “Pride.”
“It’s humiliating. And as much as staff members try to be discreet, other kids usually find out at some point.” She shrugged. “Most days, I had an off-brand Pop-Tart in the morning and didn’t eat again until Mom came home for dinner. I imagine many of my kids do the same. Tomorrow, they won’t have to.”
In a minute, she’d have to get going again, so she could head home and grab a few hours of much-needed sleep before returning early in the morning.
But first, she needed to make sure Martin was okay.
She heaved her chair ninety degrees, until she was facing him. “Bea told me she made her final decision about schools last week. How are you holding up?”
“I’m happy for her.” His attempt at a smile hurt to witness. “I know she misses her old friends in Wisconsin, and UW-Madison is a great school. I think she’ll love it there.”
She rested her elbows on a nearby desk and propped her chin on her hands. “Okay, let’s try this again. How are you holding up?”
He deflated. “Well, I’m not delighted at the prospect of paying out-of-state tuition for a school located ten miles away from our old house. But that’s what the college fund is for, I suppose.”
“And?”
“And I’m kind of…” He cleared his throat. “I’m kind of devastated that she’ll be living a thousand miles away from me.”
Oh, fuck. She hadn’t even considered… “Will you move back there to be closer to her?”
“No.” He abruptly straightened in his chair, his face no longer quite so drawn in misery. “One, I can’t afford to do that again, not with closing costs and moving expenses. Two, Marysburg is my home now.” His eyes met hers. “Everything I want is here.”
Her pulse tripped at that look, but she wouldn’t be distracted. Not if he needed to talk more. “Except Bea.”
“Except Bea.” He sighed. “Parenting is a real bitch, Rose. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to sell you wet wipes or formula.”
They were sitting in her classroom. This wasn’t the place for any sort of intimacy, no matter how innocent. Still, she reached over to stroke her knuckles down his bristly cheek, unable to keep herself from giving him some sort of physical comfort.
“I’m sorry you’re hurting. What can I do to help?”
The line between his brows smoothed under her touch, and he reached up to catch her fingertips. Bring them to his mouth for a kiss.
This smile looked more genuine, and he squeezed her fingers. “You’re already doing it.” After a long, slow breath, he returned his attention to the plastic bags. “Let’s knock this out so we can get you home. You’re squinting like you have a headache.”
How in the world had he noticed that, especially while steeped in his own misery?
When he offered his arm, she let him help her to her feet. “You’re willing to help?”
He shot her a chiding look, which was answer enough.
For an hour, he helped her fill the bags and waited as she wrote notes to all her AP kids. When she’d finished, and all the bags were labeled and resting in neat rows on her back counter, he hoisted her briefcase alongside his and walked her to the parking lot.
Theirs were the only two remaining vehicles. By that time, she could barely see straight, and Martin had devolved from Nosferatu to Crypt Keeper. But his presence had turned the evening from torturous to tolerable.
More than tolerable. Companionable. Exciting.
Especially when they’d tossed her bags in her passenger’s seat, and she was leaning against the driver’s door, too tired to stand upright without support.
