She’s still hoping that we can get married in a double wedding, probably, the way we talked about when we were little girls, and I still thought I’d get married someday. The thing is, I don’t want to be tied to anyone who thinks they can tell me what to do. No, thank you. Nor do I want to marry someone who bears any resemblance in personality to either my narcissist mother or my father, who willingly goes by the nickname of Auggie the Doggie. Let’s be real; these are patterns that don’t bear repeating.
Of course, Bryn and Rory are immensely happy with each other, and I am happy for them. Our younger sister, Willow, is also blissfully settled in Asheville, preparing to marry her writer fiancé. But that doesn’t mean I want to stick on a pair of roller skates and follow my sisters down the aisle.
Would I like to meet someone to have some fun with?
Absolutely.
Would I be open to finding something more?
If he made a compelling enough argument…and if I felt certain he wouldn’t constantly undermine me and try to order me around.
But I’m not in the market for a husband, family, and white picket fence, and for all I know, Hot Rod is looking for a nanny who puts out. Which is why I’m in no hurry to get ahead of myself. I’m just enjoying some fun, casual conversation with a hopefully hot stranger.
Still. To be honest, spending time with the little dictators in my classroom hasn’t been as bad as I feared it might be. They’re old enough to know their own minds, and some of them have really good ones. Eloise is a bit of a suck up, but she’s smart as a whip, and Jane’s the kind of ball buster that makes me proud to have a pair of ovaries. Actually, Cole would probably be horrified to hear me say it, but she reminds me a bit of myself when I was a kid.
“I’ll go out there, Holly,” Mikey says, steeling himself.
“You shouldn’t let him do that,” Jane says with a firm look. “My dad kicks people out of his brewery, and he says you have to look mean when you’re doing it.” She casts a quick glance to Mikey then back to me. “You’re much more intimidating.”
“Thank you, Jane! Also, sorry, Mikey, but I have to agree with her. You can tell Butterscotch that you offered.”
“Well, maybe I’ll follow you and wait in the doorway. In case you need backup.” But he’s tugging at his hair again, really going at it, and I don’t want him to wind up bald for nothing. He’s got a beautiful head of hair.
“And who’s going to watch these little hellions? Stay where you’re needed, Mikey. You’ll be more useful to me in here. When I point at you through the window, lift up your phone. I’m gonna tell our friend out there that you have the police on speed dial.”
“Should I actually call them?” He sounds kind of excited about it.
“If I give you the signal. We don’t actually know anything about this dude except that he’s overly interested in other people’s business. Just make sure Officer Andrews isn’t on duty. He never got over that prank we pulled senior year. He’d probably let me get kidnapped out of spite.”
“This isn’t making me feel better,” Mikey mutters, pulling on his hair again.
I wave him off. “I’m not going in hot. I’m just going to ask him why, exactly, he’s taken an interest in a class full of eight-year-olds, the perv.”
Eloise raises a hand. I sigh and call on her. “Yes, Eloise? You know we don’t need to raise hands in here.”
From the prim line of her mouth, I can tell she will keep on raising her hand, come hell or highwater. “What’s a perv, Miss Holly?”
“I’ll be right back,” I say, ducking out just as Jane starts to say something that will be both elucidating and inappropriate. Let Mikey deal with that.
Like I promised, I don’t go in hot. I casually open the door and circle around to the fellow. He’s shrimpy and bald, with the kind of slender rectangular glasses that always make me wonder how much they could possibly help the person to see.
“Hello, there,” I say, sticking with the casual act.
He jolts as if someone just shoved a hot poker up his ass.
“What? Me? Yes?”
“Yes, you,” I say. “I see you’ve taken an interest in my classroom of underage children. You can understand my concern.”
His face blanches, and he reaches up to adjust his glasses, accidentally knocking them askew. “Oh, no. It’s nothing untoward.”
“That’s fantastic,” I say, “because you see, my friend Mikey in there—” I point to him, and champ that he is, he waves his phone. “—is preparing to dial the police. They’re gonna be very interested in hearing your story, friend.”
He looks like he has a mind to run, but it takes me all of a second to grab my Mace out of my purse and have it up and ready. “You’re going to get a face or back full of hurt if you try to leave without explaining yourself.”
“My license is expired,” he squeaks out. “I’ll get in trouble.”
His license for what? Spying on children?
