Fritz: don’t worry about it. You won’t meet her until date 10
Gilly: Fritz. How dare you keep this from us?
I cringed at the double standard but held my ground. If he was going on a second date, tonight wouldn’t be the night I told him. I couldn’t remind him of all Samantha’s bullshit and destroy a chance at him being happy. Not when this was the first time in half a year that he showed interest in dating at all. It would be horrible to dampen his mood. Grace would understand.
My car, undamaged from Samantha, reflected in the sun that remained, and I reached into my bag and groaned.My damn car keys were in my classroom.I was too damn distracted by Christopher that I forgot my car keys.
My classroom keys were in my pocket. Ineverforgot those. But ugh. I made the trek back to the building. The creaking sounds of a large empty building always sent a weird chill down my neck. It wasn’t unsafe but eerie. Especially when most people were gone.
I got to the first-grade hallway and stopped in my tracks. Samantha was tiptoeing out of my room.That bitch.How did she get into my room?My heart lurched in my chest, and I waited until she was out of sight before running as quiet as I could to my room.Did she take something? Destroy my stuff? Put a hidden mic?
I unlocked the door, grabbed my car keys, and searched for anything that was missing. My laptop was there, my lesson plans. The scholarship donation sheet sat on the top of my desk. Nothing out of place that would’ve indicated why she was there.
I spent another ten minutes trying to find a single hair out of place but couldn’t. I hated that she could fluster me like this. She had no business breaking into my room unless it was to mess with me. I gritted my teeth together as anger lit me up. It was time to end this shit with her. No more money. No more blackmail. This monster was going to be cut out of my life—I just had to make sure Fritz and Christopher heard it from me first.
Chapter Nineteen
“Red dress, for sure,”Grace said over FaceTime three days later.
It was our date night, and we hadn’t kissed since he was in my classroom with his sister. It was a special form of torture seeing his smirk and heated eyes every day, but tonight, it was us.
“It’s flirty and fun and hot, Gilly. Make him pine for you. I think he deserves it since he thought youconnedhim.” She snorted over the phone, and I was so glad she wasn’t vocal about being disappointed in me.
We both agreed it wouldn’t be right to tell Fritz now, not when he was just getting back into dating. It would crush his newly found spirit, and we needed to see how it went this next week before I told him. Knowing my brother, it would send him into a binge-drinking weekend where he was pissed at the world.
I couldn’t have that, and the relief at hearing Grace agree with me made breathing easier again. I missed this with her—the talking before a date, the ways she used to laugh at my horrible dating life. It was back to normal between us, even if it was temporary, and it felt good.
“I forgave him for being an ass about all that con stuff after seeing him with his sister and family,” I said, the twinge of guilt appearing in my gut. “Plus, he’ll see it’s even more absurd when I tell him the truth.”
“Which will be…when?” she asked oh-so-casually.
“Soon.” My mouth dried up. “We agreed I had to tell Fritz first.”
“Hm,” she said, her distaste from my reasoning clear through the phone. “So, red dress, right? You’ll have him putty in your hands. Maybe that’ll help distract him from the fact you are Ms. Moneybags.”
Her attempt at humor made me feel better and less like I was awful. “When did you become such a little tease, Grace Anderson?”
“Since I married a grumpy softie.” She beamed back at me, and I waved at Brock in the background. He shook his head at us and kept walking. Typical Brock.
I tried the red sundress on. It had tiny straps, fit my chest nicely, and hugged my hips until it flared out at the end. It did great things for my curves, and I felt confident in it. “Yes, this is it.”
“You still have my shoes you stole?”
“You mean, the onesyoustole from me that you now claim as your own?” I fired back, digging through my closet for the black strappy sandals that had just an inch of a heel. I slipped them on and grinned. “They work.”
“You look incredible, Gil. For real.” Grace repositioned the phone so she could on her stomach. Her goofy smile was just enough for me to share my inner turmoil. She was the perfect pre-date distraction.
“G, I’m nervous,” I said, the scandal with Samantha and Fritz in the back of my mind. My stomach was in a constant state of knots knowing how much I liked him, how much I was into him. I was in unchartered territory and my poor body couldn’t handle the nerves. Sex with him might’ve changed our physical part but a date night?
I couldn’t remember the last date night I had. Years ago. Things were heavier. More serious. More risky.
“Why?” she asked, her brows coming together like I told her I was an alien.
“Because I like the guy.” There, I’d said it. He cared for his family and his students, and he was respectful and loyal. Even though his misunderstanding made him be an ass, I understood his behavior. He was confident and knew what he wanted, and I was that person, for now at least.
“And you’re nervous because he isn’t just a hookup or a fling?” She tilted her head to the side and clicked her tongue—a sure sign she was deep in thought.
“He’s different. What if the date sucks or what if he decides nope, not worth it? I guess I wouldn't have to tell him the truth then.” I asked the question that kept me up at night. “The stakes feel higher with him.”
