“Hey. Sorry for leaving you hanging. I lost track of time.”
The dress shirt and pants he wore were wrinkled. He stood with a stooped posture, his blue eyes dull and looking anywhere but at her. There was no way she’d let him walk out of here on a Friday feeling defeated. “We got along just fine.” She glanced at the classroom, then back at him. “You wanna come in?”
He shook his head. “No. Not here.”
She couldn’t blame him for not wanting to return to ground zero, but their office wasn’t the coziest spot for a personal chat, either. She mentally reviewed all the areas in the school, finally landing on an idea. “Let’s go to the teachers’ lounge. No one will be there on a Friday after school, and it has comfy couches.”
Will nodded, taking the bundle of papers and supplies from her hands so she could lock the classroom door. The lounge was on the second floor, not far from where they were—another perk. She led the way and pushed open the door, happy to find it empty. There wasn’t anything overly exciting about the space, other than the ping-pong table located in the back corner and, of course, the aforementioned comfy couches. Outside of that, the space was generally used as a staff eating area with a large table in its center and a kitchenette at the front.
Will homed in on the nearest couch and plopped down, setting the stack of work he carried on the coffee table. She took a seat next to him and left a cushion between them. They sat in silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. She didn’t want to push or direct the conversation, so she waited for him to start when he was ready.
“I feel like I made a huge mistake. Being here. Doing this. Something hits a bit too close to home, and I completely lose my shit.”
She angled her body so she could face him better. “I promise you, we’ve all been there, Will. Every teacher in this building has doubted themselves and whether or not they were cut out for this job.”
“My sister died last year from complications of her eating disorder. She was seventeen.”
Rebecca gasped. “Oh, God, Will. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how awful that must have been.”
He stared at the floor, unblinking. “She’d been feeling really weak and having trouble breathing, so my parents took her to the hospital. She went into sudden cardiac arrest. Died within two days.”
“Will,” she whispered. No wonder he’d reacted so strongly in the health room. She was amazed he was able to get through as much of the documentary as he had.
“I just . . . I thought I could channel my grief into something positive, ya know? At the agency, one of our biggest clients was a fast food corporation. I worked on several campaigns with them, even took the lead on one. I busted my ass so I could climb the ladder. Got the penthouse, the fancy car, but I was so busy trying to be noticed that I failed to see my own sister dying in front of me. Because of me.”
Her fingers itched with the need to comfort him. She placed a hand on his knee, and he looked up and met her gaze. “Will, it’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself. When you lose a loved one, it’s natural to feel guilty. You’re here, and they’re not. But you’re not responsible for her death.”
She may never know the full story, but her gut told her without question that Will was a good brother. The timeline of events concerned her, though. He’d said she died last year. So, while mourning his sister, he’d quit his previous job and dove headfirst into teaching. If this was some kind of agenda for him, a way to assuage his guilt or prove something to his deceased sister, he’d end up crashing and burning.
“How am I gonna face the students again after this?” Will asked. “I can’t help feeling this isn’t the right place for me.”
“Everybody here has a story. And they’re not all pretty.” Her own story included, but she wouldn’t delve into that right now. “They’re what makes us who we are. You can’t change the past, Will, but you can be real about it. Be honest. You know what would have made the biggest impact on them?” Will shifted closer then, and she realized with skin-prickling awareness that she still had her hand on his knee. “If, um, you used Jamal’s comment as a launchpad for a conversation about healthy eating. Don’t tell them to stop eating fast food or show them depressing documentaries. Explain why diet and exercise are important to you, now more than ever. Facilitate a discussion. We call those teachable moments in the profession.” She added the last with a wink to try to lighten things up.
He smiled, and even a low wattage smile from Will could make a woman’s heart trip all over itself. “Thank you for listening, and for letting me lean on you so much these past couple weeks.”
She impulsively squeezed his knee. “Thanks for . . . opening up.”
His smile deepened, confirming he recognized the borrowed line. He’d spoken those words to her after their game of H-O-R-S-E—or truth and more truth. “I should let you go. It’s Friday, and I’m sure you have plans.”
Reluctantly, she released him from her grip. She did have plans, and quite frankly, she didn’t want to know if he did, too.
He stood, gathered his belongings from the table, then shot her one last meaningful glance. “Just for the record, you do look great in those yoga pants.”
He spun on his heel and walked away, and she let herself bask in the warm, tingling sensation that compliment evoked for ten whole minutes after he left.
13
Will had gone straight to his basement apartment and crashed for two hours. Just what his mind and body needed. Normally, he’d be driving back to the city for the weekend, but he didn’t feel up to dealing with the traffic, nor did he have the energy to join his friends for a night on the town. The bar scene held less appeal to him now. Hookups and hangovers . . . two things he could happily live without these days.
Besides, he had a much better substitute. Rebecca never drifted far from his thoughts, but their relationship had taken a definite turn today. At least for him. She was the first person, outside of family, that he’d opened up to about his sister’s death. She gave off this vibe, like he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge him. Knew when to talk and when to listen. And she’d been much more touchy-feely than ever before. Yeah, that was probably her empathy coming through, but she seemed to let her guard down more when he was at his most vulnerable. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was appear weak in front of her. She didn’t make him feel weak, though. She commended him for being brave enough to speak his truth.
And he was falling for her by the day.
Stretching his arms above his head, he contemplated what to eat for dinner. When he’d first arrived home, Carmen had crossed paths with him in the driveway and revealed she’d made a lasagna for her “hungry men.” She was heading off to Bingo for the night but invited him to partake in the cheesy goodness to his heart’s content, then winked at him very suggestively. He supposed it was safe to go upstairs without Carmen on the premises. His stomach certainly wasn’t objecting.
He rolled off the couch and ran a hand through his hair. When he climbed the stairs to the main floor, he spotted Ethan at the dinner table already loading his plate. “Looks like a party of two,” Will said.
Ethan glanced up and nodded in greeting. They hadn’t spoken much since Will moved in. He’d heard Ethan was a writer and figured he spent most of his time typing in his apartment upstairs. Or maybe he stayed out of sight to avoid Carmen’s meddlesome personality. As Will made for the table, MoJo attacked from behind and rubbed his noggin hard against Will’s leg. “My apologies, MoJo. It’s a party of three.”
MoJo purred and pranced alongside Will into the kitchen. “I swear this guy is more dog than cat,” he said to Ethan.
The other man chuckled. “Carmen claims he’s going through an identity crisis. She walks him on a leash and feeds him dog treats.”
Will blinked. “Are you sure we should be eating something she prepared?”
Ethan waved off his concern and took his first bite. “She’s eccentric for sure, but she means well. And bel
ieve me, she makes a killer lasagna. I mean, killer as in delicious.”
Will grabbed a plate and fork and cut himself a big slab of lasagna from the glass dish on the table. “I’m hungry enough that I’ll take my chances.” After nuking it, he sat across from Ethan, noting how precisely he’d arranged his place setting. MoJo planted himself at Will’s feet in hopes of being the recipient of a nibble or two, no doubt. Using his fork, he broke off a piece and tasted the combination of noodles, cheese, and sauce. The savory flavors melted in his mouth, and he immediately dove in for another bite. God bless the woman for using three-quarters of the world’s supply of mozzarella.
“Okay, that’s really good,” he mumbled through his full mouth. Once he finished swallowing, he stood to pour himself a drink of water. MoJo took advantage of his brief absence, climbed onto the table, and made off with a sizeable chunk of Will’s dinner. The little thief. Ethan continued eating like it never happened.
Will returned to his seat, and MoJo stared up at him from the chair next door, his face registering zero remorse. “I don’t think we can be bros anymore, Mo. You don’t steal another man’s cheese. That goes against the bro code.” MoJo kept staring as he chewed, then, when he finished his stolen snack, he turned and curled up with his ass-end pointed at Will.
“Good chat, buddy.” Well, he was more communicative than Ethan, anyway. Will tried to initiate a conversation with the other human at the table. “So, Ethan, you’re a writer?”
“Yep.”
A verbose one, too. “Cool. Any plans for tonight, other than writing?”
Ethan set his fork down in the dead center of his empty plate. “Normally, I’d be out with Addie. My girlfriend,” he added, and as soon as the ‘G’ word left his lips, he got an almost saccharine smile on his face and his coarse demeanor faded away. “But she’s at some girls’ night thing with a bunch of her friends.”
Will thought of Rebecca then. Did she have plans tonight, or was she hanging at home? She’d said she was single, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t dating. Maybe she was one of the women in Addie’s circle of friends. Yes, that was a much nicer thought. “How long have you and Addie been together?” Will shoveled the last bits of his lasagna in his mouth before MoJo went in for round two.
“A couple months. You might have seen her around. She bakes hand pies and delivers them around Kendal and several other towns on the back of her Pie-Cycle. The only thing better than her hand pies are her danishes. I used to get my danish fix at the Cup-A-Cabana coffee shop—that’s where I do my writing—but once I tried Addie’s, there was no going back.”
Will tried to suppress his amusement at Ethan’s about-face. The way the man lit up when talking about his girl made Will’s chest tighten with envy. “Well, I’m definitely gonna have to try one of these pies.”
Ethan stood and walked to the fridge. He returned a moment later with a bakery box which he deposited on the table. “She keeps me well supplied,” he said, opening the box to reveal a half-dozen pies and other pastries.
Will grinned. “I can see that.”
A noise sounded from the door, and MoJo perked up. That was strange. Carmen shouldn’t have been back so soon. MoJo dropped to the floor, and Will followed his dog-like trot all the way to the door where, sure enough, Carmen greeted him.
“Hello, boys!” she called from the entryway. “Sorry to interrupt.” She sashayed her way into the kitchen and surveyed the table. “Oh, you were good and hungry, I see. Does my heart good to fuel those young, muscular bodies of yours.”
Will and Ethan exchanged a look. “Did you forget something, Carmen?” Will asked. Bingo couldn’t be over this soon.
“As a matter of fact, yes, dear.” She grasped the shopping bag on the corner of the counter. “I forgot the prizes for the Bingo winners. It’s my night to pull the balls.” Carmen raised her eyebrows and let loose a low cackle. “You two behave now. Don’t stay up too late.” Ironic, coming from a woman who prowled the town well into the night—every night. She scratched MoJo behind the ears, then swished her way back to the door. “Ta-ta, my loves!”
After the door closed behind her, Will shook his head and laughed. “I feel like I’m in some kind of bizarre movie. She is too strange to be real.”
Ethan nodded. “I know what you mean. But she’s no fool. Making money off both of us and getting an eyeful every day.”
“When I first moved in, she said something about wanting to read my palm, and I was worried it was a euphemism.”
This time, Ethan laughed. “She practices palmistry. Every Sunday, she sets up a tent in the town square and reads palms as ‘Towanda,’” he said, using air quotes. “She calls it Palm Sunday.”
Will pondered that information. “Is she any good?”
Ethan shrugged. “Addie seems to think so. She said Towanda saw my initials in the veins on the back of her hands, which sounds ridiculous, but I’m not complaining. Addie reads tea leaves, so I don’t argue with any of the mumbo jumbo.”
Will peered at the back of his own hands. “Huh.” He couldn’t make out anything legible written in his veins, but he was a tiny bit curious now what Towanda might see if given the chance.
Ethan plucked what looked to be a cherry danish from the box on the table, and Will reached for a hand pie sprinkled with cinnamon sugar. MoJo hopped back up on the chair next to him. He took a bite, discovering the delicious apple filling, then broke off a piece for MoJo. Two guys and a cat, bonding over baked goods and the girls in their lives. Guess it’s my turn to share.
“Hey, Ethan, do you know anything about Rebecca Ledgerwood?”
Rebecca parked on the street next to Gwen’s beautiful Craftsman-style home. Hannah had given her the address and asked her to bring something to munch on. She balanced the veggie tray she’d brought on one hand while kicking her car door shut and locking it with the key fob. As she made the short trek from the sidewalk to Gwen’s porch, Hannah yanked open the front door to meet her.
“Hey, gorgeous!” Hannah said, her ever-present smile fading when she spotted the snack Rebecca held. “Really, Becks? Vegetables?”
“And dip!” Rebecca pointed out a tad defensively. “We need at least one healthier option.”
Hannah relieved her of the tray, her nose wrinkled in distaste. “Okay, freak.”
She followed Hannah into the house, then they took a quick left to the kitchen where Gwen stood arranging the other provisions. Nachos and dip, cookies, hand pies, spinach dip in a bread bowl, candy skewers, chicken wings, cupcakes, cheese and crackers, and a fruit tray.
“Hey, there’s fruit!” Rebecca said. “I’m not the only freak.”
Gwen glanced up from her task and smiled at Rebecca. “With about a gallon of chocolate dipping sauce. Welcome, Rebecca. So glad you could join us.”
“Thanks so much for inviting me. Your house is lovely.”
Hannah pulled both women into a side hug. “I love this. I love that we’re all coming together. I also love food, so let’s get this party started!”
Gwen laughed. “Then grab some plates and bowls and bring them into the living room. Amy and Addie are already in there.”
Hannah led the way, carefully transporting the margarita pitcher like the precious cargo it was. Gwen and Rebecca loaded their arms with as many bowls and platters as they could manage and trailed after her.
Rebecca spotted Amy before the other woman registered her presence, and she was reminded how close they’d come to being sisters-in-law. She’d heard Amy was doing well with her Christmas crafts business, and she was glad. She wanted the best for her. Derek, on the other hand . . . Well, initially, she’d taken out her anger on the dartboard that hung in her rec room, placing a picture of his face over the bullseye. But she’d put all frustration and heartbreak aside because she refused to play the part of the jilted lover out for revenge. She just hoped his life sucked without her, that’s all.
Gwen had set up a buffet table with plates, cups, and cutlery along th
e wall in the living room. They deposited the items in their hands and joined the other women in the sitting area. Addie waved to Rebecca from her spot on the couch, but Amy got up and pulled her into a hug.
“Rebecca! Oh, my God, it’s so good to see you!”
The shorter woman clinched her so tightly, any inklings she’d had about things being awkward completely evaporated. “Hey, Amy. It’s great to see you, too.” She hadn’t changed a bit from the last time Rebecca had seen her—at the engagement party the Campbell family had thrown for her and Derek. She still had that adorable girl-next-door vibe, and au naturel coppery-red hair, inherited from her mother. Derek had taken after his father, with brown hair and an inability to commit. Two weeks after their engagement news, his parents had split. As rumor had it, the elder Mr. Campbell had another woman on the side.
Amy had been devastated, and Derek used their parents’ imploding marriage as reasoning to nix his engagement to Rebecca, which he’d done a mere seven days later. If their thirty-four years of holy matrimony ended in failure, how can we stand a chance? he’d said. And then, like any person fresh from breaking their significant other’s heart, he’d fled to Morocco to climb the Atlas Mountains.
“Okay, so we’ve all exchanged pleasantries now, yes?” Hannah asked. “I say we eat!”
Gwen laughed. “I’ll get the rest of the snacks, but you ladies go ahead and dig in.”
Plates were filled and drinks were poured. Addie returned to the couch, flanked by Hannah and Amy. Rebecca took one of the armchairs, and Gwen took the other.
Gwen raised her glass and toasted the other ladies in the room. “Cheers, girls! Keep your friends close and your alcohol closer.”
“Amen,” Hannah said with a salute. “Girlfriends are like dogs. You can never have too many.”
Addie cocked her head. “But you only have one dog.”
“True,” Hannah admitted. “I’m surrounded by dogs all day, though. Only Muffykins is lucky enough to come home with me at night.”
Learning to Love Page 13