Page 51 of Closing the Distance

Then she perks up, and her smile grows wicked. “You should have Ty hire a fancy PR person to write up the statement you’ll use for the press and use that for O’Dell and your students. The kids will just be excited about Ty being involved. They’re not going to care how it happened. If their parents want to be judgy assholes about someone else’s life, that’s for them and hopefully their therapist to work through. That’s not your responsibility. And O’Dell can go fuck herself.”

I laugh. “I’d pay money to watch you say that to her face.”

She points a finger at me. “Don’t tempt me. No one gets to make my best friend feel like shit and get away with it.” Her expression softens. “I’m serious, Lexi. You did not deserve this treatment. You know that, right?”

I nibble my lip and then nod. I know I don’t deserve it, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t expect some form of this treatment. Maybe it’s because of my upbringing or because so many people have let me down, but it’s often easier to expect the worst than to be blindsided. If anything, it’s a testament to how much hope Ty’s brought to my life that I wasn’t prepared for O’Dell’s response.

By the end of the school day, my mental exhaustion and physical exhaustion are competing to make me feel like I’ve been hit by a bus, but I can’t leave until after our staff meeting. I grab a snack and meet Blaire outside my door so we can walk to the auditorium together. We’re two of the last ones to get in and get settled in our seats. Blaire elbows me, and when I look at her, she nods her head to the front corner where O’Dell is talking to one of the assistant principals, Melanie Peters. Right as I look at them, they both look away, and that knot in my stomach that O’Dell put there earlier today tightens.

“They keep staring at you,” Blaire whispers. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

I don’t either, but O’Dell wouldn’t do anything since I haven’t had time to prepare the statement she wants. Or at least I hope that’s the case.

But not ten minutes later, I’m reminded why hope has always let me down. O’Dell starts our staff meeting as usual with announcements. She shares that the head custodian is retiring at the end of the year and reminds us that the sub shortage is a problem and to always leave lesson plans on our desk and have emergency plans drafted just in case a fellow teacher has to cover us. And then she dashes all my hope when she says, “And one of our own is expecting. Lexi Kemper is pregnant and due in May. She’ll be out the remainder of the year once she delivers, so we’ll let you know once we have a long-term sub set up.”

Everyone turns to face me, and the usual suspects shoot me dirty looks—the same ones I definitely expected that behavior from. I get several smiles from other teachers, some indifferent looks, and then some questioning.

“I hate her,” Blaire mumbles, her glare pointed directly at O’Dell. “That was completely unnecessary and something she should’ve cleared with you first.”

“Agreed, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“I still think you should get the union rep involved.”

Maybe she’s right, but I’d rather not. I have nothing against our union rep, but I’m conflict-averse, and it feels like getting the union involved will only make this a bigger deal than it already is.

By the time the hour-long staff meeting is over, I’m beyond done with this day. Not even the idea of my date with Ty tonight can get me out of the poor mood I’m in now. And it doesn’t get any better when no fewer than four people ask me when I’m getting married, about my relationship, or who the dad is.

I can’t get my purse and work bag fast enough, but I hustle out as quickly as I can while Blaire plays interference. I shoot her a grateful smile and then book it to my car.

Once inside, I rest my head against the headrest and close my eyes, hoping the silence will give me one moment of peace, one moment to find the happy place I’ve lived in since Thanksgiving. But all I hear is O’Dell’s condescending voice and the barrage of questions from other staff members. My eyes pop open, and I stare unseeingly out the windshield as reality hits me with its full force. Today was nothing compared to what will happen when the press finds out.

I’d felt sick and hurt when Ty first asked for a paternity test, but now I understand what he was talking about. No one’s doubting it at my school, but then again no one knows that Ty is the dad. The press doesn’t have the best history of giving the benefit of the doubt. A sliver of worry still remains over whether that test is really for the press or because he doesn’t believe me, but I need to trust him.

With that thought, all I can think about is getting to him. Forget canceling our date tonight. I need his strong arms to wrap around me and remind me what we have. I need him to make me feel special in the way only he can, especially after being made to feel less than by so many people who I expected better from.

I turn the ignition and head straight to his place.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Lexi shows up at my door an hour before I was supposed to pick her up for our date, and I can tell right away something’s not right. I cup her face and stare into her tired eyes swimming with frustration. “What’s wrong?” I glance down, placing my hand protectively on her small baby bump. “Is it the baby?”

She shakes her head, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around my waist, then burying her head in my chest. “Today was really rough,” she mumbles.

It hits me like a ton of bricks that she was planning to tell her principal today. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight while she seeks comfort in my arms.As much as I hate whatever or whoever made her feel this way, I can’t deny I love that she came running to me for strength and comfort.

“Come on, let’s sit down and you can tell me all about it, okay?”

She nods her head, and I pull her inside, closing the door and guiding her to my couch. Already, my place feels better with her here. It feels like home more than it ever has.

On our way to the couch, she glances over at the kitchen island and her steps falter. “Is that a taco bar?”

“Yeah, you told me last night you were craving tacos with all the fixings, so I thought we’d have some tonight and watch some TV.”

“But you were going to pick me up…”

I shrug. “Yeah, and bring you back here. I figured you’d be tired after a long day back at work and would just want to relax. I would’ve packed it up to bring to your place, but my couch is comfier.”

“It is,” she says absentmindedly, still staring at the taco fixings.

---