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“No, it’s been a while. I must give him a call soon. Catch up.”
“Like I mentioned, I do appreciate my privacy.” I roll my eyes playfully. “If you know my sisters, I’d never get a moment’s peace if they knew I was here.”
He laughs like he does indeed know my family. “They are all lovely women and I’m a younger brother in a big family, too, so I fully understand what it’s like to have intrusive sisters.” He claps his hands together and turns to Peyton, and I relax a bit hoping we just dodged a bullet. “How about a tour, and then I’ll take you in to meet the staff before introducing you to your new students?”
“That sounds lovely,” Peyton says, the hitch in her voice noticeable only to me, and only because I know this woman. I give a little nod to let her know I got this, that everything will be okay. Her big eyes scan my face, and she relaxes slightly with my reassurance. Jesus, this girl trusts me, and I better be able to back it up and make sure I don’t mess this up.
We walk through the colorful halls and children’s laughter reaches our ears. “Richard is already here,” he says.
“Richard?” Peyton asks.
He shakes his head. “My apologies. Richard is the other teacher. An American, like you. He, too, is vying for the full-time position. His darling wife is with him. They’ve been here for over an hour.” I glance at my watch. “He’s eager to get started, I guess,” Andrew adds. “I bet you will all hit it off.”
I want to ask why he’s holding a ridiculous competition in the first place. Peyton is clearly the best candidate and I don’t even have to meet Richard, the eager beaver, to know it.
As if reading my mind, Andrew turns to me. “This is a much-coveted position, and while Richard and Peyton were top candidates, it’s important to us to see them in their role.”
I wrap my arm around Peyton. “I’m sure you’ll be extraordinarily impressed. She impresses me every day.”
“How did you two meet?” he asks.
“Roman and my brother are best friends. They met in college, Penn State. Perhaps you know my brother, Cason Harrison. He’s the creator of Hard Wear, quality fashion for men, and Soft Wear, quality fashion for women.”
Andrew’s eyes widen. “I have heard of that app. I believe my wife uses it.”
Peyton turns from us, sneezing into her arm again. “Sorry, allergies,” she explains as she fishes a tissue from her purse. Andrew gives us the grand tour and we end in the teachers’ lounge. He introduces us and everyone greets us with smiles and open arms, until he presents Richard and his wife, Paula, both of whom I instantly dislike. Oh, they’re smiling, but I grew up surrounded by fake, and know it when I see it.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Andrew says and disappears, leaving us with Richard and his wife.
“I’m looking forward to getting to know you both better,” Richard says. “Where are you residing for the month?”
For the month?
Okay, now that shit just pisses me off. He’s acting like he’s already got the job and Peyton might as well not get too settled.
“Not far,” I say, when his gaze lands on me. I work to keep my cool and add, “In this community.”
Paula flashes me a saccharine smile. “Looks like we’re neighbors. We must socialize.” She puts her hand on her husband’s chest. “In the evenings of course. Throughout the day, I’ll be home tending to the house and supporting my husband.” Her eyes turn to me. “And you, Roman? What will you be doing when your wife is at work?”
I move closer to my wife and anchor her body to mine. As the protector in me roars to life, I fight the instinct to stand in between her and these assholes. Peyton is tough on the outside and has the ability to handle this guy and his wife. It’s what’s underneath her bravado that worries me, the flare of some deeper emotion she keeps tucked deep, protected by an impenetrable and unscalable wall.
“I’ll be home supporting my wife, too,” I say, remaining on my best behavior as my fingers curl.
“Like a house husband?” Paula presses manicured nails to her chest and lets out a mocking laugh, stoking the anger in me. “How adorable.”
“So nontraditional,” Richard, and when I say Richard, I mean asshole, pipes in.
“You don’t want to stay home and have a family, Peyton?” Paula asks.
When Peyton’s face pales, a muscle twitches beneath my eye and I open my mouth, not about to let anyone belittle her or question her choices, but she puts her hand on my arm.
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying I’m an independent woman,” Peyton says. “My choices are my own, as are yours, and I hope we’ve come to the point where women have stopped shaming each other for their choices. We can have a family whether we work or stay home. I mean it is the twenty-first century after all.”
Atta girl!
I glare at Paula as she lifts her chin. “Yes, of course,” she says. “I guess I’ll always be that old-fashioned girl. Not that there is anything wrong with what you’re doing,” she says, her voice sweet, but the malicious glare tells a different story. “We just prefer to do things differently. That’s how it is in the Ozarks, where we come from, our values are much like they are here in Malta. Very different from New York, obviously.”
Two elderly ladies step into the lounge and I shake my head as Paula and her husband dismiss us and turn to charm them. I rub the knot from the back of my neck, hardly able to believe people like that still exist in this world. Then again, maybe that’s exactly what they’re looking for in Malta. Old time-y values. Peyton, however, has more values in her pinkie finger than almost anyone and while there is nothing wrong with staying home, no one and I mean no one should shame a woman for wanting a career. Peyton’s choices are hers, and hers alone—and that comes to her sexuality, too. As that epiphany hits me like the slap of a teacher’s ruler, it occurs to me she’s right about a lot of things she said to me, mainly that she can sleep with whoever she wants to sleep with while she’s here—as long as it’s me.
