Page 168 of Teacher's Pet

Oh, the irony.

"You don’t look too bad yourself, Mrs. Briar-"

"Eden," she corrects smoothly. "Tonight call me Eden." she grins, the warmth in her expression making it impossible to refuse.

"Alright," I reply, forcing a smile of my own, willing myself not to scan the crowd for Noah.

"Where are your parents tonight, Ms. Burns?"

Roman’s voice cuts through the moment, calm and measured. The way he says my last name isn’t a question. It’s a statement. A reminder that he already knows exactly who I am.

Clever man.

He asserts his authority effortlessly, without ever needing to raise his voice.

I exhale, shifting on my heels. "My dad had appointments," I admit. "Asking him to come to something like this would be torture. Seeing his old students, being this sick… I didn’t want to put him through that."

Roman nods, processing my words. But his attention flickers, just for a second, toward the drink table.

He sees them before I do.

"Well, I’ll take plenty of pictures for him," Eden chimes, her smile unwavering. "Roman, love, can you grab Ana a drink?"

Roman lingers for a moment, his jaw ticking. But at his wife’s request, he softens. Turning toward her, he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice warm despite the tension in his shoulders.

"Of course, Angel."

"I never get tired of his smile," Eden muses, watching him weave through the crowd. "You know, our daughter likes to say her dad-"

But I don’t hear the rest.

Because I’ve already tuned her out.

My attention is locked on the very same thing Roman noticed first.

The drink table.

Jake. Cole. Walker.

Their presence is like a storm cloud rolling in, heavy and suffocating. They stand just close enough to be a problem, their eyes fixed on me with unsettling precision.

A lump forms in my throat. Jake’s presence here, tonight, makes my skin crawl.

And I’m not the only one who feels it.

Even from a distance, I can see it in Roman’s body language. His subtle shift in posture. The way his hand lingers close to his side, as if preparing for something. He doesn’t trust them.

Neither do I.

My chest tightens as I glance around, searching, hoping, until finally, my eyes land on Noah.

Relief washes over me.

He moves with purpose, closing in on Roman like a man on a mission. Without hesitation, he reaches out and plucks the drink from Roman’s hand, his voice low and insistent, saying something I can’t quite hear.

Whatever it is, it’s enough.

Roman lets him guide him away from the three men, his expression unreadable. But I see the shift. The understanding.

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