Monday should feel normal. Back to a routine. Predictable. Instead, I feel like I’m living inside some strange, quiet bubble where all I can think about is Rory. I’ve been distracted all day. I’ve still helped Year Two with their maths worksheets, stopped two minor arguments over whose turn it was with the whiteboard pen, and gently redirected a small uprising about reading logs. But mentally? I’ve been somewhere else entirely. Somewhere that smells like Rory’s aftershave and feels like strong arms wrapped around me in the middle of the night.
Saturday morning keeps replaying in my head. The way we woke up tangled together in my bed. The lazy conversation. The stupid smiles we kept catching ourselves giving each other. He’d eventually gone home when Isla woke up, then Saturday night he’d appeared again. Quietly. Like some kind of very attractive burglar. I’d just finished reading my book when my phone buzzed.
Rory:Look outside.
I’d pulled the curtain aside to see him standing on the pavement holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a tub of ice cream in the other. The most ridiculous grin on his face.Apparently, the plan had been to watch a film. Apparently. We had every intention of watching that film. But somewhere between the opening credits and Rory pulling me into his lap on the sofa, the film had become… less of a priority. We didn’t make it past the first twenty minutes. Still. The intentions had been there.
Sunday had been torture in a completely different way. Rory had Isla all day, which meant I saw him constantly through the window. Walking down the road with her on his shoulders, heading out to her ballet class, playing in the garden. Every time our eyes met there was that same little spark of something between us. We’d texted most of the day like two teenagers. But Theo had been at his dad’s, which meant I had far too much time to think. And apparently when I think too much, I miss Rory. A lot.
By Sunday evening he’d appeared again. This time holding an Indian takeaway bag and looking far too pleased with himself.
“We’re just having dinner tonight,” he’d said.
“Just dinner?”
“Just dinner.”
And to be fair… We had actually managed dinner. We sat on the sofa eating curry and talking about nothing important while the house smelled like garlic and spices. We’d even managed to keep our hands mostly to ourselves. Mostly. There had been that moment by the front door when he left which had started as a goodnight kiss and ended with me clinging to him and trying not to laugh too loudly while he made me come on his fingers. We really cannot keep our hands off each other.
Which brings us to today. Monday. Normal life. Except I have absolutely no idea how to do normal life when the man I’m apparently in love with lives across the road and his daughter goes to the school I work at.
I didn’t see him this morning. On days when Theo is at his dad’s I’m usually at school before Rory arrives for the school run. Which meant no accidental glances across the playground. So I’ve been floating around school all day in this strange state of anticipation. Because at three o’clock two very important things happen. I get my boy back. And I see Rory.
The clock on the classroom wall ticks painfully slowly toward the end of the day. I tidy the last of the workbooks, straighten the reading corner, and help Mrs Harris stack the chairs.
“Everything alright today, Freya?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say quickly. “Just tired.”
She nods sympathetically. “Monday feeling.”
If only she knew.
The bell finally rings. The sound sends a ripple of movement through the school as classroom doors open and children pour into the corridors. My heart lifts immediately. Theo.
I make my way out to the playground, scanning the crowd instinctively until I see him. He’s already looking for me. The moment his eyes land on me he grins.
“Mum!”
And suddenly nothing else matters. I open my arms just in time for him to crash into me. “Hey, my boy,” I laugh, wrapping him up tightly. God, I’ve missed this. Four days without him always feels too long. I press my face into his hair and breathe him in. That warm, familiar smell that is somehow uniquely Theo.
“You’re squeezing me,” he complains half-heartedly.
“Good.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
I kiss the top of his head before finally loosening my grip. Then I look up. And there he is. Across the playground. Rory. He’s standing beside Isla, one hand resting lightly on hershoulder while she chatters away about something animatedly. But he’s not looking at her. He’s looking at me. The moment our eyes meet something in my chest flips. That same quiet spark that’s been there all weekend. God. I really am in love with this man. The realisation lands so suddenly that it almost steals my breath. Theo follows my gaze.
“Oh look,” he says casually. “It’s Rory.”
Like he hasn’t just pointed out the centre of my entire universe right now.
Rory lifts a hand in a small wave. I wave back. Trying very hard to look normal. Theo turns back to me.
“Can we walk home with them?”
