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All this, and it’s six a.m. on a Monday morning.
“Diego?”
“I’m not the tooth fairy.” The gruff roll of his voice that pushes against me hasn’t lost power. And I half laugh.
“You’re too big.”
“What’s this help you need, Nadia?” That gruffness gets thicker as he again gets right to it.
I swallow hard, my stomach twisting, my throat burning, and my tongue suddenly too big for my mouth. Time ticks and I can’t speak.
“For fuck’s sake.”
And he’s gone.
I sink down to the floor and bury my head in my arms. I’m tough, I’m strong, I’m a previously engaged twenty-fucking-eight-year-old woman. One call from a long-ago boyfriend and I’m fourteen. I’m lost, I’m pathetic.
One call and I can’t even tell him why I called in the first place.
Of course, him hanging up is beyond rude and juvenile, but . . .
I take a breath and push up, ignoring the shake to my legs.
What did I expect when I got his number—no small feat in itself—rainbows? The world to be all happy and populated with unicorns?
I’m just shocked he called back.
But relying on men isn’t my thing. I just . . . it’s all . . . Jay didn’t come home again last night. He’s young, sixteen, and in with a bad crowd. He doesn’t listen to me anymore.
What would Diego have done? Turn up to a town he couldn’t wait to burn in the dust behind him ten years ago, wave some macho wand and make it all better?
That’s not life. It’s not how it works. Not for me.
On my own. How it should be.
I hurry out the door to start the day.
* * *
I’ve been in the principal’s office for twenty minutes. Grant Peabody isn’t exactly known for his progressive ideas or winning ways. But I smooth down my skirt, smile, and wait for his answer.
“No.”
The effort it takes not to scream or leap over his desk and try and strangle some sense into his small brain deserves accolades. “I’m not asking the school for a dime. I’ll pay for the classes, the supplies.”
“Do you have a problem with my answer being no, Miss Reed?” He folds his arms over his small paunch. “Because I’m not sure how else to say it. You’re a teacher here, with classes of her own. Setting up extra-curricular ones like this one is ridiculous.”
“Schools do it all the time.”
“Yes.” He eyes me like he’s eyeing a spot of ketchup from lunch that mysteriously appeared on his shirt and won’t go away. “But bigger schools with more staff. Better schools with a real budget.” He holds his arms up indicating the school his office sits within. “This isn’t one of them.”
“I’ll pay, and I don’t have anything else.”
“Since you and Riff went south, you mean,” he states and goes on to add, “Besides, you’ve got enough on your plate at home.”
White hot fury sears my veins. My nephew’s none of his business. Just like Ralph Martin, my ex-fiancé, an ex-college football star and break up isn’t. I swear those in this town are still taking the split harder than either party involved. But fury doesn’t win. I’m not about to let it. So, I push it back in order to cool down with deep breaths.
“I can pay, and these kids need more than the class can give them.”
