“It was no big deal,” he insisted.
I nodded. “I’ll be sure to hurry over to the sheriff’s office and get this all taken care of. Sorry for the trouble.”
Alex smiled, but his face was laced with sympathy. I’d seen the expression on enough people to know when I was being pitied. I’d heard it in their voices, too.
It was present in how carefully my mom watched me during family dinners—when she thought I wasn’t paying attention. Or how Mac checked on me all the time. The way Magdaline down at Apollo’s softened her voice when I called in a to-go order. Or how nosy Sheila Jessup said “Howareyou, honey?” every time she saw me at the grocery store.
“No trouble at all,” Alex said. “Have a good weekend, Ms. Jensen.”
“Thanks. You too.”
He gave me another smile before turning and walking toward the door. I watched as April came barreling in and nearly collided with our principal. The second-grade teacherapologized, and my coworkers shared a laugh before Alex eventually made his way out.
April approached my desk, eyes wide and face flushed. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind one ear, and I noticed pen ink or dry-erase marker smeared down the side of her hand.
She exhaled roughly. “I didn’t expect a traffic jam in your doorway.”
“Yeah, me either.” I started packing up my things. I could finish my upcoming lesson plans over the weekend. Plus, I needed to hurry over to the sheriff’s office.
Ugh. I’d been looking forward to staying in panda mode for at least the next twenty-four hours. That was where I wore my most comfortable sweats, snacked liberally, and lazed around the house, not going anywhere or seeing anyone. Panda mode was sacred and necessary in order to recharge as a teacher. It was usually reserved for weekends, but not always.
Tonight, I’d planned on grabbing Mexican takeout for dinner and watching the 2005 version ofPride and Prejudice. Having a crappy week? There was a Darcy hand flex for that. Suffering from a hangover from hell and having thrown up in front of the coolest guy from your high school? Yeah, you’ll need to watch Matthew Macfadyen walk through a foggy field at sunrise with visible chest hair and a long coat flapping.
Instead, I would be a little delayed in getting the weekend started. But that was okay. It was my own fault for dropping the ball at work.
“Sooo,” April began with raised eyebrows. “What was Principal McCrush-On-You doing here?”
The look I gave her was one I reserved for smart-ass students who thought they were cute. “Mr. Brinkman,” I emphasized, “stopped by to let me know that my background check will lapse soon and I need to go over to the sheriff’s office tonight to get that taken care of.”
“Wow, a personal visit.” She grinned. “And all I got was an email from Mrs. Fowler in the front office.”
I paused in stuffing my planner in my bag. “You need a background check, too?”
April nodded. “Yep. Five years fly by when you’re trying to get a class full of seven-year-olds to stop eating their boogers.”
“And do you have to go tonight to do your fingerprints and stuff?”
“No,” she replied, still looking pleased. Then she tossed up some air quotes as she continued, “I am responsible for making my own arrangements to remedy the state of my licensure before October first.”
I frowned. “Why would Alex ... ?”
April had no problem jumping in when my voice trailed off in confusion. “Because he has the hots for you and will do anything to keep his favorite teacher happy.”
“April, stop. He’s just being nice.” I resumed shoving my things into my bag, but a little part of me thought there might be some truth to her statement. I didn’t want that, nor did I endorse that sort of favoritism. But I couldn’t decide if it was worse than him going the extra mile for me because I was pathetic and distracted by my marriage falling apart.
“Bonnie. The man has a massive crush on you.”
I couldn’t look at her. I didn’t want to think about that or hear about it either.
“It would be okay if you were interested,” she said gently.
Despite the tenderness in her tone, my head jerked back as if she’d hit me.
“Or not,” she amended quickly, eyes wide.
“I can’t—I’m not—I’m not ready for something—” I shook my head as my breathing grew labored.
“Hey,” April said softly, taking a step toward me, palms out in surrender. “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have suggested that. I’m sorry. There is no pressure at all.”
