Page 3 of Savannah Sweethearts

I stood and went to the doorway of the girls’ room. They shared a double bed that looked like a swimming pool compared to their tiny frames. Saffi was curled up against Sami, her arm draped over her sister’s face. Even though they were identical, I could tell them apart easily. Saffi was just a hair taller, and Sami had a freckle just in front of her right ear. Saffi’s face was ever so slightly fuller, and Sami’s facial expressions were much more dramatic.

Leaving their door cracked in case they needed me, I wandered to my own room and stretched out on my bed. I wondered if I would see Ashley in the morning when I took the girls to school. Would she be their teacher? I didn’t really want her and Sabra to meet.

But I did want to see her again. I pulled her up on social media after years of avoiding looking up her name and scrolled through what little I found. Her accounts were private, but she was frequently tagged in posts and articles. As the daughter of one of Savannah’s most prominent businessmen, she was a Southern socialite if ever there was one. Her father never thought I was good enough for his little girl.

Once I became a father myself, I understood. No man would ever be good enough for my girls. But for Jonathan Gloss, it was more about what neighborhood I came from and how much was in my family’s bank accounts that mattered. I was from the wrong side of the tracks, and he made sure I knew it.

The next morning, the girls—with their boundless energy—woke me at the crack of dawn. I scrambled some eggs and fried some bacon for them. My mom always made the best breakfasts for me, and I wanted to make sure I did that for the girls. Even though my mom lived only a few blocks away, it was important that I make that memory with Sami and Saffi.

Having a mother and not a father hadn’t been easy for me—not that it had been the plan. My father had been killed in a work accident when I was three. I barely remembered him, but from what I did remember, he was a fun and loving guy. I wanted to make sure my girls knew the same kind of dad from an early age.

We loaded up in my car, and I took the girls to school before I went to work. We were early and had to wait for the doors to open before being allowed into the building. The cool Savannah morning helped calm my nerves as I thought about what I might say to Ashley that wouldn’t sound like I was trying too hard.

Before I knew it, the door unlocked, and Ashley stood there, holding it open. Another family came in before us, and then my girls went tearing into the building toward their class. Since I was holding their backpacks, I followed them.

God help me, but she still smelled like honeysuckle. My steps slowed as she allowed the door to close behind us. “Good morning.” The smell was just as intoxicating as it always had been.

“Morning.” Her gaze stayed fixed on the floor, and she didn’t move.

Without thinking, I fell into step beside her. “How are you this morning?” I felt awkward, but I wanted to be friendly.

No, what I wanted to do was grab her by the hand, pull her into an empty room, and kiss her. But I couldn’t do that at a preschool with my children only a few steps away, so I made uncomfortable conversation instead.

“I’m good.” Ashley hoisted up a little boy and took his backpack from his mother before turning around and heading for their classroom. Before she stepped over the gate, however, she turned back toward me, nodded once, and smiled. “Have a good one, Tyrell.”

She disappeared behind the door, and I was left standing in her wake. Last night, she had been stunning in the blue dress she wore. Now in leggings and a flowy top with her hair pulled back, she looked just as beautiful. Perhaps even more so. After a moment, I turned and left for work.

I went through the day as if I were in a daze. My buddy AO laughed at me and told me I looked like a lovesick schoolgirl. I shook my head at his comment. His life goal was perpetual bachelorhood, so I knew he didn’t get it. But when he invited me to P’s and Cues that night, I agreed. I needed to get my mind clear.

“No kids tonight?” AO Ortiz clapped me on the back as we left the building.

Shaking my head, I pulled my keys out. “No. Sabra has them for the next week.”

He raised his hand for a high-five. “Nice.”

Even though it was against the ‘bro code,’ I left him hanging. “Man, those girls are my life. I hate being away from them.” I opened my car door. “I’ll meet you there.”

At the bar, we racked up a pool table and both grabbed a beer. I wasn’t much of a drinker, and neither was AO, but we would nurse a beer throughout the night.

“So, what had you in la-la land all day?” He broke the rack, and the sound of pool balls cracking filled the air.

I surveyed the table for a moment before answering. “I ran into my old girlfriend last night. We wound up talking for hours.”

He wagged his eyebrows. “Talking?”

As much as I wanted to whack him with the pool cue, I didn’t. “Just talking. But it got me thinking about what might have been. Even though we were kids, I thought she was the one. And seeing her last night…” I could still see us together, growing old.

“So, why did you break up before?”

I shook my head. “We were young and easily swayed. Her dad was a grade-A elitist. Still is, I’d wager. But we let him break us up.”

“Love is for the birds.” AO sunk a ball, then scratched.

I sunk three balls in a row. “That’s why they’re called love birds.”

Ashley

I didn’t see Tyrell pick the girls up that afternoon, and the next morning, a woman dropped them off. Three-inch heels, full-face make-up, and nails that reminded me of Edward Scissorhands sashayed through with them. She must be their mother. I said a warm hello to her when she walked by my classroom, but she gave me the side eye and ignored me.

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