Page 40 of Call Me Mrs. Taylor

Thong Song and old girl are smiling now. Crisis averted.

I take that as my cue and stand.

Then I walk over to Aniya. I smile sweetly. Like a teacher should smile.

I hold my arms out.

She rolls her eyes.

She’s got my number.

But I got hers, too.

“Go on,” Sisco urges. “Remember your manners.”

Well, now, wait a minute, Sisco. I lowkey don’t like that. They shouldn’tmakeher hug me. Children shouldn’t be made to doanythingphysical. It has nothing to do with manners.

I drop my arms, hating him now.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Really, it is. I just hope we can put this whole thing behind us.”

I leave Jonetta to finish up, smiling brightly as I get my class started on breakfast cleanup.

I won.

I always win.

Ace summoned me in the absolute worst way.

My husband

Come over after work. I wanna talk to you about some things.

That was it. No elaboration. No context. No, “Baby, I can’t wait to see you.” Just straight to the point and deliberately vague like I'm a damn contractor at his work site.

I stared at the text for a solid ten minutes, feeling my skin crawl. Because what the hell does “talk to you about some things” even mean?

Like…I’m already ready to jump out of my own skin at 10:04 a.m. on any random Thursday. Why the fuck would he amplify that for me? Read the room, negro. Your girl is anxious. Be her fucking peace.

But then I remind myself—he doesn’t know that about me yet. I’m not sure he shouldeverknow. Who wants to marry a basket case?

So I take a breath, put on my good-girlfriend costume, and drive over to his place after school, my nerves buzzing the whole way.

He’s smiling when he opens the door, looking like he actually wants me there. And for some odd, unfathomable reason, that bothers me even more.

I’m still irritated, but it’s like low-grade irritation, the kind that sits in the back of your head like a dull ache, and you can’t even remember what’s annoying you, everything just irks you. Like when my bra strap digs into my shoulder at the end of the day, or when the wi-fi slows down right before my favorite show loads.

Right now?

That’s his face.

Irking me.

“What’s wrong?” he says as I pass by him to enter.

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

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