Williams
Me.
Jordan
Me. Uh, Williams, I forgot you were even on this text thread.
Carter
Williams
Shut up, Cap. I saved his relationship with Reagan.
Jordan
No, for real though…answer the question Hart. Who’s your best man?
Riggs has left the conversation
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
MACKENZIE
“Miss Banks, may I use the loo, please?” Colin stands beside my desk, and I nod to one of my favorite students before he scurries out of the classroom. I’ve been in London a little over a month now and I still smile at these kids and their adorable accents.
After the disaster with Trey, I told my parents I wanted to teach in England. They weren’t sure at first, but I’d already been looking into it. There are recruitment companies that connect you with schools and I was lucky enough to land a contract that lets me teach the Autumn term before heading back to the States right after the new year.
Once the contract was settled, I found a rental online and secured it for my entire stay. It’s within walking distance of school, but I can also take the Tube. It’s a small one-bedroom flat—cozy and quaint. Perfect for me—perfect for this new chapter of my life.
I started seeing a therapist when I moved here. Our weekly visits have helped me process my relationship with Trey and recognize what it turned into. Most women my age have dated several people, while I had a relationship that lasted nearly eight years and it’s my only point of reference for love—or, more accurately, what love isn’t.
The bell announcesthe end of the day, and I help the kids grab their things and walk them out front. I say hello to other teachers, but mostly keep to myself. A few of my students hug me, and it melts my heart reminding me I made the right choice to be here in London.
As I turn back toward my classroom, a hand lands on my shoulder and stops me.
“Mackenzie, can we have a chat?” I turn smiling, and find Lance Dayton, another teacher.
Okay. I can admit to myself the man is undeniably gorgeous. He’s a few years older and has been kind since day one. He’s got dirty-blond hair that’s just long enough to have a few pieces always falling into his eyes. And his eyes— mossy green—draw you in. His high cheekbones and sharp features make him the topic of conversation for every woman in the school. They fawn over him daily and he has to notice. Maybe that’s why we hit it off—I completely ignored him until one day he walked into my classroom and asked me out.
I laughed in his face—until I realized he was serious. I shut him down, which was probably the first time he’d ever been told no but it opened a conversation about my past and what brought me to London. He became my first friend here, and eventually we agreed that we were better suited as friends, and friends only.
“Of course. Let’s go to my classroom.” He smiles at me with that familiar twinkle in his eye.
A few moments later, we step inside, and he slides into my chair behind the desk while I lean against a table. “How are you feeling?” Lance asks, his eyes dropping to my abdomen. Lance and my headteacher are the only people who know about the baby. I’m nearly three months along, but I’m not showing yet.
I smile and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, “I’m tired, but the beginning of the second trimester’s already better and I have more energy than I did at the start of the term.”
“You know I’m here for you.” I step over and hug him.
“Thank you, Lance.”
“Anytime, darling. Anytime.”
I tidy the classroom before heading home when my phone buzzes on my desk. I walk over, pausing my Morgan Wallen playlist before opening my message. When I see who it is, I can’t help but smile.
Jordan
