Page 8 of Agony of Our Regret

“Glad to hear it.” Wes patted my shoulder.

Finally, Beth, an older woman who hadn’t been overtly kind in our first meeting, arrived and shut the door behind her. “We’ve narrowed it down to two locations,” she began without a simple hello.

Daniel rolled his eyes discreetly. He and Beth clashed nearly every time they were in the same room, and part of me wondered why she was on this committee when it was increasingly apparent she didn’t like children or teenagers. Or most people in general. I didn’t know her background. I didn’t care enough to ask, but she took charge when Bruce wasn’t available. She must have some seniority or authority I didn’t know about.

Or she was just bossy, and no one stopped her.

“The Santa Fe option seems to be the clear winner.” She opened her laptop and took longer than I could understand getting her screen to project to the TV, even though she was in this meeting room almost daily. “But Vermont might be more realistic.”

Pictures of the two closed elementary schools available to purchase finally appeared. They met all our requirements, but each had a hefty list of negatives.

“Neither is easy to get to,” Wes reminded us.

“Which is as much a pro as it is a con.” Tessa rubbed her temple.

We’d had this exact conversation twice while I was working from home.

“The Santa Fe school has fewer things we’d have to fix.” Daniel tapped the screen of his tablet. “It could open this fall, and we could continue to make improvements and changes with students there. Vermont’s would take at least a year to get to that point.”

“But the surrounding area, the woods especially, would be more beneficial long term,” Stacy said. “Santa Fe is so exposed.”

I knew almost word for word what everyone was going to say. This was the exact conversation on repeat. We needed to decide and move on, but telling that to a room full of adults was hard.

Well, older adults.

More experienced adults.

Adulty adults.

Grown-ups.

Parents.

Shit. I was becoming one of them—if I wasn’t already. I wasn’t some teenager they brought in here to interview. I was their colleague. A peer. As much a part of the team as any of them.

I had a real office job.

I was going to have a baby.

Suddenly, the room was too hot.

“Excuse me.” I jumped from my chair and hurried out, finding the closest restroom and barely locking the stall door before my lunch came up.

Ugh. I thought morning sickness was supposed to be almost over since I was approaching the second trimester. I’d thrown up more in the last two weeks than I had in my whole life, and I was over it.

Once my stomach was painfully empty, I washed up and put a cold, wet paper towel over my eyes for a few seconds to revive myself.

I stepped back into the hall and froze when I saw Wes leaning against the wall. The men’s room was down the hall and had multiple urinals and stalls. Why was he waiting here?

“That’s the third time you’ve run out during a meeting.”

I took a step back, mirroring his position and crossing my arms. “Sorry.”

He titled his head. “I’m not pointing it out because it’s a problem. I’m concerned.”

Worry creased his face. He was too good. Too kind. And I had to lie to him.

“I’ve been having nausea spells since the accident. It might be from the concussion.” I pulled that out of nowhere. If I’d been smarter, I would have prepared an excuse. I should have known someone would notice. If not Wes, Tessa would eventually.

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