Page 99 of Betrothed To Love

“All of that,” Giselle says and I smile.

“Thank y’all so much, not just for this, but everything. Always being here for me, supporting me in every endeavor, and just loving me,” I tell them.

“We love you forever,” Giselle says.

Our server returns with our to-go bags, Alex’s card, and the bill. Since we are all full, I ask the server if she can cut the cake and box a piece up for each of them and the rest for me. She agrees, and when she returns with the boxes of cake, we all embrace and walk out to valet for our respective rides.

Since it’s already after one, I drive to Niya’s school in Diamond Falls. I’m a little early, so I park and walk to the front desk to check her out. We can beat the traffic from the car rider pickup line starting to form. Because I have already been added to her approved list, the process is fairly easy. I present my ID and wait. To my surprise, Niya isn’t accompanied by an aide. Her actual teacher, Miss Malessa, escorts Niya to the waiting area. I immediately notice Niya’s droopy eyes and frown. She never has either.

“What’s wrong?” flies from my lips at the sight of her.

“We had a little incident today during afternoon snack,” Miss Malessa says. “Another student said something inappropriate.”

“What other student?” I inquire.

“Mrs. Bako, I can’t divulge that but just know I’ve handled the issue.”

Niya’s face is lacking any proof that the situation is handled at all. Her normal infectious sparkle is missing. She looks devastated and that is breaking my heart and causing my damn blood to boil.

“Unfortunately, Miss Malessa, I’m going to need more of an explanation than that. Niya never looks like this and it’s very concerning,” I say as calmly as my blooming anger allows. When Niya breaks free from her teacher’s hand and grabs mine, my need to know what’s wrong with my baby amplifies. “So what exactly was the incident and how exactly was it handled? You can keep the name to yourself because I’ll find that out from her but I’m not leaving here until I have every single detail.”

“Okay,” she utters, then steps closer. Whispering so only I can hear, she begins. “Well, each month we have a kinder mom host Muffins with Mom. A different mother volunteers and brings muffins for kindergarten and pre-k. It’s the first Friday of each month, so today. At snack time, one of the kids was insensitive and told Niya she didn’t have a mom.”

Shit.

“Miss Sharon overheard and pulled them apart.”

My hand caresses Niya’s back as she speaks and my heart breaks for her. Children can be so damn cruel, I swear.

“When is the next one?” I ask.

“We have a volunteer for December but no one on the calendar for January,” she says.

“I’ll do January,” I tell her.

“Oh, okay. It’ll be the fifteenth due to winter break,” she says.

“That’s fine,” I say because that’s after my swearing in ceremony. “Do I just need to bring muffins? And what time?”

“We do it at ten that Friday. Some moms bring milk but you don’t have to.”

“I’ll definitely bring milk. How many?” I ask.

“Four teachers, thirty-eight students,” she says and I immediately think, minus one.

The little heathen who hurt my Niya’s feelings isn’t getting a muffin from me.

“And you, of course. So, forty-three. It’s a huge undertaking, which is why we take volunteers.”

“It’s worth it for her. January fifteenth at ten,” I confirm.

“Yes. Thank you so much,” she says, then she leans down to Niya. “Remember what I said. Don’t let this take your little happiness. Have a great weekend, recharge your battery pack, and come back Monday with a smile.” Niya merely nods.

As soon as Miss Malessa walks away, I look down at Niya. She blinks her doe-shaped eyes and the biggest teardrops fall. My heart skips several beats and I lean in closer and wipe her tears.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I say as I embrace her. She wraps her arms around my neck and my whole heart melts. After removing her book bag and tossing it over my shoulder, I lift her and gingerly caress her back. “You don’t have to cry. Mommie’s got you,” I tell her and her little hold gets tighter.

I carry her out to my Range and she doesn’t want to let me go. As I continue to hold and comfort her, my thoughts run wild. I promise, that little child who caused this really isn’t getting a damn muffin and don’t let me run into that momma either. I’ll call in a favor and have her ass picked up for raising an insensitive child.