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As soon as the words leave her lips, Trina’s eyes widen and her cheeks turn bright red. Heat builds at the base of my spine, and the flush of her cheeks makes me want to reach over and tug her onto my lap to show her just how wet and dirty I’d like to get. I grip the edges of my chair and try to school my face into a placid expression.
I fail. I know I fail when Trina flicks her eyes up to mine, and I hear a sharp intake of breath at the look on my face. Her blush deepens, and the air between us grows charged.
She stands abruptly. “I should go.”
“Yeah.” I stand as well, keeping the papers clutched in my hand to hide my growing erection. I hand her the summary report on Katie’s performance in class so far, making sure that my fingers don’t touch hers.
“Thanks.” Her eyes slide away from mine, shoulders tense.
The wedge between us hammers us just a little further apart. Another reminder of all the reasons we can’t be together.
When I get home that evening, I find myself heading for the studio. I put some music on a bit too loud to drown out the memory of Trina’s voice, and I focus on the spinning of the pottery wheel to dispel the image of her sitting across from me, and especially the image of her jumping to her feet and angling for the door.
CHAPTER 32
Trina
I slump into a chair at my sister’s house. My kids are playing in the living room in the open-plan space while my mother reads a book beside them. Allie, Candice’s teenage daughter, is in her room, so I find myself sitting at the kitchen table with Candice, Blake, and a large glass of wine.
I might need the whole bottle after that parent-teacher conference. “Honestly, Blake, you might be the famous actor and all, but I think I deserve an Oscar for what just happened.”
Candice laughs. “That bad, huh?”
I drop my head in my hands, peeking out through my fingers at my kids. Those little sponges are listening to every word, even if they look totally engrossed in their game. I look at Candice again and shake my head.
She knows where I was just now. She knows it’s the first time since the soccer ball incident that I’ve seen Mac. She knows I still think about him far too much.
These past weeks have been a strange kind of twilight zone. The days are somehow slow and lightning-quick all at once. Now that I’ve decided on a direction in my life, it’s like I can’t wait to get started, but time just flies by without me being able to grasp it.
I remember when Kevin and I first married, it felt like a beginning. Like the start of something big, the true start to my life. I knew for sure I was doing the right thing. Maybe that’s why now, even though I feel so excited about my new business, about my kids loving their school, about all the good things in my life, I still feel slightly apprehensive. Like it might all come crashing down.
“I still don’t get why you can’t date him,” Blake says, topping up Candice’s glass.
“Shh,” I say, glancing toward my kids.
Candice just laughs and shakes her head. “She’s in denial, Blake.”
“So it runs in the family, huh.” He arches a brow at my sister, who swats his arm.
“I wasn’t that bad.” Candice takes a sip of wine before sticking her tongue out at him.
“I came into the café every day for weeks before you admitted to yourself you wanted me.” Blake rests his arm across the back of her chair, and Candice can’t help but laugh.
“Fine. Maybe a touch of denial. But Trina’s situation is different.”
Blake waves a hand. “Just go for it, Trina. So he’s your kid’s”—he drops his voice—“teacher.” A shrug as his voice returns to normal volume. “Life’s too short to worry about that kind of shit.”
“Blake said shit!” Katie shouts without taking her eyes off her game.
Yep. Little sponges listening to everything. I glance at my daughter, then shift my gaze to Candice, who gives me a knowing smile.
“Katie, just because an adult says a bad word doesn’t mean you can say it too.”
She looks up, frowning. “I wasn’t saying it, Mommy. I was just quoting him.”
Damn that infallible seven-year-old logic. I give her my best stern look, and my daughter replies with an impish grin. Toby looks at his sister, then at me, and smiles wide. And I’m probably being a bad mother for not chastising the both of them, but the sight of those two smiles hits me right in the chest. I wouldn’t be able to discipline them if I tried.
I take that as my cue to stand up, drain the dregs of wine left in my glass, and usher my kids toward the door. Mom offers to drive, which is great, because I feel all out of sorts. We still only have my old clunker car, which I swear I’ll upgrade once I have a bit more stability. Whenever that happens.
