“Right.” Although I had made a decision and intended to stick with it, it was still a bit awkward. How was I supposed to transition from the panic attack to taking her out to dinner? “I think I wouldn’t mind listening to a song first. You know, before we get to driving.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Normally, I would assume someone was faking their graciousness and was secretly either disgusted by my actions or pitied me, but I could smell none of that with Giselle. Sure, concern lanced through her scent, and the nerves were definitely still there along with the stress ketones, but that was it. And, in my opinion, those particular emotions were more than reasonable.
“Would you like to pick the song?” I asked, trying to sound remotely normal. “After all, ladies first.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t feel like fishing my phone out of my purse. Why don’t you share a song, if you don’t mind?”
“I can do that.”
My anxiety ticked up at having to choose a song, but I squashed that and told myself not to be silly. I chose a classic Queen song, because who didn’t like Queen? Not somebody I would want to be on a date with.
A few moments later, Freddie Mercury’s voice came over the car speakers, and the panic attack, as well as everything else that came along with it, began to sink into the background. It wasn’t fully gone, and every minute or so my thoughts would try to flick back to that situation, but each time it did, I focused on the lyrics. Focused on moving forward and still having a great night with a wonderful person who deserved to be treated.
Were my wife still alive, I was sure down to the very marrow in my bones that she would want only good things for Giselle. Millia had always been kinder and more insightful than I was. So, even though I was a bit emotionally conflicted about being on a date with someone else, I could at least take solace in the fact that I was helping carry on my wife’s legacy.
“Thank you,” I said once the song was finished.
Giselle sent me one of those incredibly sweet smiles that I was beginning to realize came quite naturally to her.
“I think I’m ready to drive.”
“You think?” she said almost teasingly. “That might be something you want to be pretty certain about.”
I supposed a teacher was still going to be a teacher, even if she was the most charming and beautiful teacher I’d ever met.
“Iamready to drive now.”
“Awesome. I gotta admit, I’m actually really hungry for once. Normally, I’m too busy to remember I have an appetite, but right now, I’m pretty aware.”
“Well, let’s get you fed then.”
With that goal in mind, it was much easier to abolish the last dregs of my hesitation. I pulled away from the curb, ready to go on my first date since I’d lost the love of my life.
I was still pretty nervous, but I probably couldn’t fuck it up any worse.
Always a silver lining.
“You’re kidding me,” I said as I sipped at the dark lager. Human alcohol didn’t really do anything for me, but that was fine. I definitely didn’t want to be inebriated after what had already happened. No, I wanted to be on my best behavior and turn the date around for Giselle.
“No, I am absolutely not kidding you,” Giselle said, smiling from ear to ear. “Legitimately, she was absolutely certain that it was my job as a first-grade teacher to potty train her child.”
I shook my head. The entitlement of some parents. “And this was during your first year?”
“Yep. I do feel bad for their kid, because she had a good heart, but it was clear that the household was not healthy for her.” That smile I was rapidly growing addicted to faded a bit. “As a mandated reporter, I had to say something about it. Her daughter was at risk of repeated UTIs from sitting in a soiled diaper all day, and honestly, not potty training your child once they reach elementary school is pretty extreme—if there are no medical reasons or developmental delays involved, that is. They were assigned a caseworker, and she got help, but unfortunately, she was removed from our district so I never got to follow up on that.”
Even in a restaurant full of delicious scents, I could pick up on the changes in her pheromones. She was truly still concernedand upset about a student from a couple of years ago. That proved to me that she put her money where her mouth was. My son wasn’t any sort of exception, nor was he receiving special treatment—Giselle valued each and every soul who passed through her class.
Man, maybe more shifters should go to human schools. Although, I had a distinct impression that most teachers couldn’t hold a candle to the woman sitting across from me.
“You did the best you could by her. You got her the help she needed, and maybe even got her mother to realize that she was neglecting her daughter terribly. You may never know the why, you may never know what even happens after, but you know you did everything you could.”
Giselle glanced down, her cheeks coloring pink. “That’s very kind of you to say.”
“I just call ’em like I see them.”
“Yes, I got that impression during our first meeting.”
