Page 53 of Playing With Temptation

Then I took in his smirk.

He knew he’d rendered me immobile with the ‘his woman’ comment.

Whatever.

I shook my head, eased on the gas, and asked my son, “How was your day?”

“A-plus on my spelling test and I got the three extra credit answers right.”

“Way to go, kid. And math?”

“Ninety percent,” he mumbled.

I felt his pain. Math was stupid.

I didn’t tell him that.

“Ninety percent is an A. You studied hard. Celebrate the win.”

“Does that mean I get two scoops since we’re celebrating and all?”

Damn, I loved my son.

I don’t know what I did right in my life to be blessed with such an amazing creature.

“Sure.”

“Score! Does this mean every Friday after my spelling tests and math quizzes if I get ninety and above we’ll stop for ice cream to celebrate?”

I didn’t need to think about my answer.

Zoe had taught me well.

“Yes.”

“Bomb-diggity-dog!” Lucas cried.

One day I would miss his youthful exuberance and shouting. But today was not that day.

“Turn down the volume, kid, and tell me about your day.”

“We had an assembly,” Lucas told me in a much softer voice. “One of the teachers, Miss Monroe, died.”

I felt my mental gears grind at the sudden change in topic. “Oh no. That’s horrible. Did you know her?”

“No, but everyone was saying that she was real nice. The principal had her class sit up front and all the kids who were in her class last year. Most of them got up to talk about how great she was. Then after, the principal asked us to write two letters, one to her mom and dad and one to one of the students in her class. It’s not an assignment and we don’t have to do it, but he said it would be a nice thing to do.”

The principal wasn’t wrong.

“Do you want to write a letter?” I asked, making sure my tone didn’t give away I hoped my son was the kind of kid who would want to show strangers empathy.

“Oh, yeah. I already wrote my letter to a second-grader in her class. Mrs. Ashberry put a box on her desk for us to drop them in when we were done.”

“I’m proud of you, Lucas.” That time I couldn’t hide the hitch in my voice.

“We know,” he whispered.

Shit. I was going to start bawling.