Page 29 of Mr. Broody

“Sorry.” She giggles again. “It’s just weird. I didn’t know Bodhi went here. Since no one needs my help at the house during the day, I wanted something to do during the day. Reed mentioned this position was available, which now that I’m thinking about it, it’s odd that he didn’t give me a heads-up, too, no?”

My first question is why she’s teaching and not doing what she’s been doing for the last few years. The entire reason she couldn’t stay here with me was because she needed to explore the world and her love of photography. So, I’m really confused right now.

“Don’t you think?” she asks, prompting me when I don’t say anything.

“Bodhi just started here this year. I said something to Reed, but it was brief, and he’s really been occupied with that case, Victoria’s surgery, and the boys. Maybe it slipped his mind.” I doubt Reed or anyone in the Warner house would try to set us up, knowing what the repercussions would be.

“Oh, well, that makes sense. He’s rarely been home since I got there.” She shrugs and her laughter stops.

She looks gorgeous in a dress that’s conservative enough for a Catholic school event but also molds to her curves. Her dark hair is a little wavy, and all I want to do is mess it up in a heavy make-out session in the storage room.

“Are you just covering Mrs. McConnell for her maternity leave?”

A few families walk by, taking their kids to the room where they are all convening. Some glance our way, but I’m used to the looks, as if they’re asking one another, is that Henry Hensley? Or damn, he looks familiar.

“Yeah, it should wrap up around the time I plan to leave.” She looks behind her. “I should really get going. Second day on the job, and I’m already slacking off.” She laughs, and her hand touches my bicep, warmth seeps through the fabric of my jacket and shirt. “He’s a really great kid by the way. You’ve done an amazing job.” With a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, she walks down the hall.

Fuck, okay, I can handle this. She’s my kid’s teacher. But it’s not like I have to be in constant contact with her. It’s only going to be three months at the most. It took me a lot to make it to the national league, so surely I can get through this. In a few months, she’ll be gone, and we can go on with our lives. I just need to make sure my son doesn’t get attached. And I really need to make sure I don’t fuck the substitute.

Twelve

Jade

“Wait, wait, wait!” Eloise stops in the middle of the sidewalk with her hand up, making the Saturday foot traffic groan and mumble curses for having to go around us. “You’re his son’s teacher?”

I tug on her sleeve to keep walking. “Yeah.”

Eloise and I became friends freshman year in high school when I had to leave the safety of St. Pat’s and venture into a public high school. She’s been a great friend to me, and although I’m always thousands of miles away, I hope I’ve done the same. Since I’m the maid of honor at her wedding this summer, I think I must have.

“Okay, you’re gonna need to start over. Why are you even teaching?”

I don’t want to get into my reason for taking the teaching job instead of spending my days wandering the city and taking photographs to sell. This is her day to go to a bridal store and try on dresses so she can get married.

I hook my arm through hers, walking us in the direction she told me the shop was. “We’ll talk about it over lunch.”

She blows out a breath. “I’m holding you to that. You always push off talking about anything to do with him, and I’ve been rambling all morning about the wedding, evil mother in-laws, and how my fiancé would rather watch football than fuck me.”

I laugh and lay my head on her shoulder. I’ve missed her so much. This road to a happy wedding isn’t going to be easy with all the issues she has going on this early in the game, so I’m happy I can be here for her.

We arrive outside the bridal shop. It’s quaint, with headless mannequins wearing beautiful wedding dresses in the shop window. One in white and the other in a candlelight ivory gown. Dried flowers are scattered around them.

I have the brief thought that if I had returned to Chicago with Henry all those years ago, I’d probably be married to him by now, and we’d have already gone through this stage together.

We walk through the doors to Bridal by Kyleigh and are greeted by the luscious smell of vanilla mixed with apple cider. I inhale deeply, in love with the boutique bridal salon vibe going on here.

“I’ll be with you in a sec,” a woman says from somewhere in the back.

There are a few lines of dresses on the racks and a three-way mirror with a pedestal in the back. Small velvet benches and plush velvet chairs are strewn around for people to sit and relax. We step in farther and see a woman in a dress standing in front of a set of mirrors while a woman with her back to us is crouched near the bottom of the dress.

“Will you just stop fidgeting?” the woman with the pins says to a bride.

Her dress is amazing. The mix of fabrics, the way it almost looks as if it’s been sewn to her body, it fits so well. Nothing is out of place. It’s just beautiful.

“See why I want her to make my dress?” Eloise points at the woman now lying on the ground with pins, trying to put another in place. Her face is obstructed by the layers of what I think are silk or satin.

“She’s the owner?” I whisper.

“That’s Kyleigh.” Eloise pulls me over to the side and quietly tells me the owner’s story. How she used to work with her mom, who is a big deal in the industry, and now she’s an up-and-coming designer herself. Eloise swears that soon everyone will want to wear Kyleigh’s dresses.

---