Page 24 of Working for the Teacher

“It's complicated,” I say.

“Come on, everybody already has theories.”

“Our food's getting cold,” Ryder says with an edge underneath it that makes it very clear this isn't actually a request. “If you don't mind.”

Kristen's mouth tightens, clearly not used to being dismissed. She walks away with a huff.

“Thanks,” I say, once she's out of earshot.

“Did it for the fries. They get sad when they sit too long.” He steals one off my plate, and I laugh.

We eat for a minute in comfortable silence, and then he sets down his burger.

“Why did you leave New York, though? For real. You don't have to tell me, but I'd like to know.”

I take a breath, because I've given the shorthand version of this story to so many people since I got back that I've almost forgotten what the full version sounds like out loud.

“I was engaged. His name is Daniel. About three months ago he decided that he wanted something different. Someone different, apparently, since he was already seeing a coworker.”

“I’m sorry. What an idiot that guy is.”

“It's fine. Or it's getting there.” I push a fry around my plate. “And then, almost right after that, the private school I taught at back in Brooklyn had budget cuts. My position got eliminated. Not performance related, they were very clear about that part, but it didn't matter much once I was standing there with a broken engagement and a lease I couldn't afford on my own.”

“That's a lot to have happen at once.”

“It really was.” I glance up at him. “But honestly, I don't think it was even the breakup or the job that got to me the most. It was the idea of saying out loud that I failed. New York is so expensive, and I didn't want to be around Daniel flaunting his new relationship all over, and my mom had been guilting me to move back here for years anyway. When the teaching position opened up at Forge Creek, it just felt like the best option, so I took it.”

“How do you feel about it now?”

“At first it felt like the biggest mistake of my life. Like I'd failed so completely that the universe sent me back to the one place I swore I'd never live again, just to really drive the point home.” I look at him, feeling something warm and a little reckless move through my heart. “But lately, now that I've reconnected with you, maybe it's not so bad.”

“Not so bad, huh.” His mouth curves into a satisfied grin.

“Don't let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

He reaches across the table and steals another fry, and I let him, while a diner full of curious eyes keep watch.

“Everyone's staring,” I say, glancing around at the handful of tables clearly not paying attention to their own food.

“Let them.” He nudges my foot under the table with his. “Not so bad, remember?”

“Not so bad,” I agree, smiling.

By the time Marlene comes back to clear our plates, most of the diner has stopped pretending not to watch us, and Kristen is very obviously typing something on her phone from her booth across the room. I find, surprisingly, that I don't care. There's something almost funny about it now, being the evening's entertainment in a town that's whispering about both of us separately, only to end up whispering about the two of us together.

“You want dessert?” Ryder asks.

“I feel like I should say no on principle, because I've had a milkshake already, but I've also had a very long month, so.”

“So yes.”

“So yes.”

He waves Marlene back over and orders a slice of marionberry pie with two forks, and when it arrives he pushes it toward the middle of the table instead of keeping it to himself, letting me take the first bite before he even picks up his fork. It's a small thing, but after my last relationship, there's something overwhelming about a man who saves you the first bite without even being asked.

“Good?” he asks.