Page 22 of Devoured


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She grins at me, but her nervousness about her first day seems to have ebbed, and for that I’m grateful. We cross the street when the light turns and both go silent. After a long while she speaks.

“Roman,” she says quietly, so quietly I almost miss it.

“Yes.”

She shades the sun from her eyes and glances down the street. I follow the direction and spot the school in the near distance. “Thanks for this,” she says.

“My pleasure,” I say, and mean every word of it. This girl needs a break, and I’m happy to give it to her. “Like I said, it’s a nice reprieve from reality.” With my arm still around her, I give a comforting squeeze. “We got this.”

“Yeah, I think we do.”

“Cason told me a bit about the job. He said you were in competition for the full-time position. How is that all working?” She breaks from my arm and sneezes into the crook of her elbow. I frown when she turns back to me, take in the red in her eyes. “Are you getting sick?” Maybe that’s why she always seems to be shivering.

“I think it’s actually allergies.”

“Allergic to Malta?”

“Probably the different foliage they have here.”

“Do you have any meds for that?”

“I’m sure it will pass,” she says, and offers me a smile. “Back to your question. The full-time teacher left for maternity and made the decision not to come back. I’m one of two candidates hired for the month of June. I’m not sure who the other person is. We both work in the classroom until the end of the school year, and whoever ‘fits’ the best will be offered the full-time position in September.”

“Why Malta?”

“The opportunity presented itself. I want to offer something to the children, expand their horizons. I feel like I can give back more in a place like this.”

“Does it have to be Malta?”

“No, but these jobs aren’t easy to come by and I want to be in a community in need, know what I mean?”

“I do.”

A woman and her young son, who looks to be about three, stroll down the sidewalk, and I catch the loving way Peyton watches them, her lips curving at the corners. For a girl who doesn’t want a family, or kids—doesn’t believe in Cinderella or Prince Charming—she sure has a longing smile on her face. Maybe that’s why she became a teacher—maybe all the children help fill the hollowed-out holes in her life.

“And you have to be married?”

The small family passes and her chest expands as she takes in a deep breath and lets it out ever so slowly. “Technically the marriage bar has been lifted, but it’s practiced behind the scenes here. I don’t like to deceive anyone, Roman, but I couldn’t take a chance. I’m hoping once they see me in action with the kids, my marital status will no longer matter.”

“I get it, but it’s all ridiculous. It’s the twenty-first century, for Christ’s sake.”

She shrugs. “I know, but this job means everything to me. Which is why—”

“Which is why I’m your husband.” My body stiffens at the words. Wow, why the hell did that come out so easily, sound so right?

“Fake husband,” she corrects.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“No.”

“I meant to.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Children file into the school and it brings a smile to her face.

“You really like kids, huh?”

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