“Maybe later, bud.”
Max returns to peering out of the window again, past the herd of Aberdeen Angus bulls, past the fountain, past Uncle Alex’s house, to which we both wave and shout hello, until finally we reach the school and get into the long queue of cars at drop-off.
“I think I’m going to keep one of mine a secret. And one of mine not a secret,” Max announces as I unbuckle him.
“That’s a good idea. You can do whatever you want.”
He jumps out, loops his arms through the straps of his school bag I’m holding, and takes my hand. We fall in line with other parents and his classmates and play the usual dance of head nods and acknowledgments while I dodge the mothers who like to linger a little too long until we turn the corner, and Story is standing there.
“Good morning, Max.”
“Good morning, Miss MacIntosh.”
“Good morning, Hendricks.”
Suddenly, I’m parched, desperate for water.
She’s so pretty. No, that’s too basic. Stunning. Beautiful. Luminescent.
Every time I see her, I have to reconcile that this woman, currently dressed for business in a crisp, fittedwhite shirt, navy trousers, and a blazer hugging her in all the right places, with glossy, blunt ends tucked behind each ear, is the one I used to chase through the fields behind her house. Roll down the hill with. Sneak to the fountain after dark to swim and drink beer with. Watch movies under the blanket with.
But this morning, it’s the full mouth painted red that renders me speechless. All I can think about is kissing it off. Fuck everything else.
“Hendricks?”
Clearing my throat, I blink away the stirrings of lust and haze of fantasies about what I’d do with that mouth. “Sorry.”
She frowns. “Are you okay?”
“I am.” I nod.
She’s still frowning but turns to Max. “How are you this morning?”
“Very well, thank you. I’m deciding on my valentine.”
“Oh well, that’s exciting to hear, and we have our singing to practice today. Two new songs?—”
“My daddy has a secret valentine.”
Fuck.
How did I not predict this would happen? Kill me now. Perhaps the look Story is shooting my way will do it for me.
I glance down, half expecting to see a chalk outline of my body.
“I’m sure he does.” Story smiles, though it’s miles away from her eyes.
“He asked me who my valentine was. . .” I begin, though totally unsure where I’m going with it. It’sstopped by Story’s hand.
“You don’t have to explain.”
“I—”
“Seriously,don’t.”
“Right. Okay.” I finger-gun the door, which is quite possibly the worst part of my entire morning. “We’re going to head inside. C’mon, Maxy, let’s hang your bag up.”
Thankfully, I don’t have to go through the awkwardness of saying goodbye to Story because once I’ve been through the process of getting Max into his classroom, I’m caught by one of the dads who asks me to go for a beer one evening. By that time, Story is in and leading the charge.
