Page 14 of We Can Forever

Maya and I go around the cushions helping the students out, and when I reach Katie and Rose, I do my best to act like a normal person.

“Hi, girls. How’s it going?” I crouch next to them.

Katie holds up her skein. “We can’t decide if this is lavender or?—”

“Twilight,” Rose inserts. “It should be called twilight.”

I bite the inside of my cheek so that I don’t laugh. “I don’t remember what the manufacturer calls that color, but I suppose you can name it anything you want. How is casting on going?”

They show me their needles, where they each have successful rows of stitches.

“Beautiful,” I comment, handing Rose’s project back to her.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Katie watching me with her head cocked. When I turn to her, though, she quickly looks down.

Does she know who I am? That I went on a date with her father?

If so, what does she think of that? Does it make her curious about me? Irritated by my presence? It’s hard to put myself in her shoes. I never knew my father and Carol never married, so I don’t even have an uncle.

“Keep up the good work,” I force out before moving on to the next kid.

We don’t interact anymore the rest of class, and once our time is up, I grab my now-empty bag and give Maya a hug.

“This was great.” Maya releases me. “What are you doing tomorrow night? Would you like to get a drink?”

Warmth spreads through my chest. All these months, I’ve pretty much had one friend on Pine Island. One friend, no classes to teach, and no hot dates.

And now look at how my life is blossoming.

“I would love to,” I tell her. “I’ll text you later.”

With a final goodbye to the class, I head out. My steps are perky, a song flowing from my lips. Sliding behind the wheel of my car, I put it in reverse and back out of the parking spot.

I have so much going for me, it feels like nothing could ever go wrong again. I almost don’t even care if Michael ever calls for a second date. There’s so much?—

The piercing noise of metal on metal fills the air, and my car bumps to a halt. I’ve backed up right into a pickup truck.

In the blink of an eye, my luck has turned upside down.

“Oh my God,” I gasp.

I turn around in my seat, waiting for the furious parent or teacher to emerge and yell at me. The man who gets out, though, looks oddly familiar.

I blink. Blink again.

It’s Michael.

My jaw drops. Seriously?

I’m still trying to decide whether this makes the situation better or worse by the time he reaches my car door. My face burning, I roll down the window.

“Hello,” I squeak out.

Surprise flashes across his face, but a second later, he’s grinning. “What do you know?”

“I’m sorry.” I cringe, wanting to dig a hole and crawl into it. According to everything I’ve learned online, I’m supposed to be playing hard to get right now—and driving into a man’s vehicle is the opposite.

“How are you?” He bends forward so we’re face-to-face.

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