I hit send and start counting. Three, two, one?—
Sophie:
Sophie:WHAT
Sophie:MORE DETAILS IMMEDIATELY
Sophie:EMMA I SWEAR TO ALL THAT IS HOLY!!
I smile despite my foul mood and give her the short version, which still takes about six long texts and more emoji reactions than I can keep up with. By the time I’m done, my salad is completely forgotten and my thumbs are tired.
Sophie:Hmm. He sounds spooked by legit concerns, but not uninterested.
Sophie:There’s a difference between “I don’t want this” and “I want this but I’m scared shitless”
I set my phone down and stare at the motivational poster someone hung on the wall that says “Teaching is a work of heart!” with a little apple graphic. Sophie’s right. I know she’s right. That’s the frustrating part.
If he wasn’t interested, I could move on. File him away in the mental folder of guys who didn’t work out and focus on literally anything else. But heisinterested.
Sophie:Movie night fundraiser this week right? You said he’s always super involved, so he’ll probably be there with Chloe. Wear something cute. School appropriate, but cute. Remind him what he’s missing.
I roll my eyes at the screen, but I’m smiling. It’s an elementary school movie night. I’ll be selling popcorn and making sure kids don’t run into each other in the dark. I’m not dressing up to seduce a man while surrounded by first graders and their parents.
But I don’t hate the idea of seeing him again. Even if it’s just across a gymnasium full of kids hopped up on sugar and fruit punch, singing along to Disney songs at the top of their lungs.
My phone buzzes again, a different notification this time. The family group chat. All five Hayes sisters, a thread that exists mostly for Sloane to make passive-aggressive comments and the rest of us to either argue or ignore them.
Sloane:Q3 numbers are in. Board meeting coming up soon. Details are on the shared calendar. Emma, your input would be valued if you’d like to participate for once.
I can hear her voice in my head. That tone she uses when she wants to sound reasonable while actually being condescending.Your input would be valued.Like I’m some consultant she’s graciously inviting to the table instead of a board member with actual voting rights.
Like I didn’t walk away from that company for reasons she refuses to acknowledge, reasons that had everything to do withhow she and our other sisters were turning it into a place that makes money by getting kids addicted to their screens. I mute the chat without responding and shove a forkful of sad lettuce into my mouth.
The afternoon passes in a blur of math worksheets and a minor crisis involving spilled glue and someone’s favorite sweater. By the time the final bell rings and the last kid has been picked up, I’m exhausted in that bone-deep way that only teaching can produce. I should go home. Take a bath. Grade papers in my pajamas with a glass of wine.
Instead I stay at my desk, working through a stack of spelling tests with my red pen, enjoying the quiet of an empty classroom. Late afternoon light slants through the windows, turning the dust motes golden. There’s something peaceful about being here when it’s still. Just me and the hum of the radiator and the faint smell of Expo markers and the ghost of twenty-three small voices that will fill this space again tomorrow.
This isn’t how I expected my first year in Dark River to go. I came here for a fresh start, for quiet classrooms and small-town life and a chance to figure out who I am without my family’s name attached. I didn’t come here to fall for a single dad with a seven-year-old I adore and a hundred reasons why this is complicated.
It’s Friday night, and the school gym has been transformed.
A big screen takes up one end, currently showing pre-movie trivia questions that nobody’s paying attention to. Families are spread across the floor on blankets and sleeping bags, staking out territory like it’s a concert lawn. The smell of popcorn fills the air, mixing with the general chaos of a hundred kids who are thrilled to be at school when it’s dark outside, which apparently makes everything more exciting.
I’m stationed at the snack table near the doors, selling popcorn bags for two dollars, juice boxes for one, and homemade rice krispie treats courtesy of the PTA moms. Mrs. Patterson is working the table with me, cheerfully making change and chatting with every parent who walks up.
Despite trying to focus on snack duty, I can’t stop scanning the room. I don’t know if I’m eager to see Theo or irritated with him. Probably both. Either way, my eyes keep drifting toward the gymnasium doors every time someone new walks in, and I’m starting to annoy myself.
Stop it,I tell myself firmly.You’re a professional. Act like one.
Then, there they are.
Theo and Chloe walk through the doors together. Chloe’s carrying a rolled-up pink blanket and practically bouncing with excitement, already tugging on her dad’s hand and pointing toward the front where the good spots are. Theo follows her lead, patient and unhurried, that little half-smile on his face that he gets when she’s being enthusiastic about something.
He looks good.Of coursehe looks good. He’s wearing jeans and a dark sweater that fits him just right across the shoulders, and his hair is doing that thing where it looks effortlessly perfect. It’s deeply unfair how attractive this man is. Cosmically unfair. The universe should not be allowed to put someone who looks like that in my direct line of sight while I’m supposed to be maintaining professional composure and selling popcorn.
His eyes sweep across the gym, past the families settling in, past the kids running around in the semi-darkness, and land on me.
I hold his gaze. I’m not going to be the one who looks away first, not after a week of radio silence. Lethimbe the one to break. After a moment that stretches just a little too long, Chloe tugs at his arm and he lets her drag him toward a spot near the front. He doesn’t look back.
