Page 30 of Loving Roman
“Oh, I’m so relieved. I was worried you’d think we were too young and rushing into everything.” Heather grasps my hand, and I squeeze hers in reassurance.
“You should never worry what other people think about your choices. They’reyourchoices. You do whatever you’re comfortable doing. I think it’s wonderful.” I take a moment to reflect on how wondrous it was to hold Noah for the first time. “A baby is such a blessing. He or she will change your lives forever in the most incredible way.”
We all sit back at the table and toast the news. We discuss their plans for the nursery and for after the baby is born through the rest of dinner. Later that night, when I retire to my room, the first person I want to share this amazing news with is Roman.
Are we even at the stage where we share news—good or bad—with each other?
I start and delete several messages to him, eventually deciding against making contact. I asked him to give me time. It wouldn’t be fair of me to make contact earlier than what we agreed, when I’m still unsure how things stand at work regarding a relationship with one of the counselors I work with.
17
–roman–
I stabmy finger into the metal desk. “Those boys are predators in training. You need to take a tougher stance on their punishment.”
Mr. Jacobs, the principal, sighs as if he’s tired of this conversation. I hope he understands I’ll never tire of this conversation. Perhaps if this type of behavior is stopped at the root, there would be fewer assaults on women. “The boys have been suspended. I can’t do any more than that, Mr. Armstrong.” He leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk and linking his hands together. “I don’t appreciate you coming in here and telling me how to do my job.”
“Maybe someone needs to. You should be an advocate for the vulnerable students in your care, not turn a blind eye to the inappropriate behavior of predators and bullies. If you don’t make an example of these boys, what message are you sending? You’re telling Evelyn and Ivy and girls just like them that their safety is unimportant. That they don’t matter! They’ve already gotten that message loud and clear from their families!” My chest expands and deflates violently with every word as my voice rises to an almost shout. I pride myself on keeping mycool, being level-headed, but I can’t let this go. “If you don’t consider a tougher stance, you’ll be complicit in any future crimes those boys commit against women.”
Jacobs shoots to his feet, his face turning a bright shade of red as he presses his knuckles into the desk, creasing the papers in front of him and looming over me. “Mr. Armstrong,” he grits. “I will not tolerate being spoken to in this manner. For you to suggest I don’t care about the students in this school is ludicrous and disrespectful.”
I stand to my full height, tired of giving him a perceived advantage over me. “Your actions and lack of a suitable punishment for those boys are what’s disrespectful here. One additional day of suspension is unacceptable and a joke.” I mirror his pose, leaning forward and lowering my voice. “Or is it because the boys who were taking inappropriate photographs of the girls and selling them online come from wealthy families while the girls and Jack live in foster care?”
“You’re testing my patience, Mr. Armstrong. I suggest you take your theories and leave my office before I have you forcibly removed.”
I chuckle darkly. “I’ll leave. But don’t for one minute think this is over, Mr. Jacobs. If you thought the boys in question came from wealthy families, you have no idea about the wealth backing Jack and the girls. Mr. Oliver Stone has taken a personal interest in this issue as he’s rather fond of them. We’ll be pressing charges, and you’ll hear from our lawyer.” Jacobs’ eyes widen and his mouth gapes open, his face turning pale. I tap my fingers on the desk and spin on my heel. “Good chat,” I say sarcastically as I head for the door before he can respond.
My blood is boiling as I stride from the school. I’m not a violent person, but I really could punch something right now. I’m pretty sure I crossed the line in there, but if I’m not a proponent for the kids in my care, then what am I even doing? They’ve already had enough shitty experiences in their younglives; they don’t need more. I know I can’t protect them from everything, but I’ll be damned if I let this go.
I don’t condone Jack using physical violence, but I’m so damn proud of him for standing up for his foster sisters and what’s right. In my opinion, he did the right thing. I’ve worked hard with this group of kids to build a family-style structure for them. To create a support network they can rely on for years to come, whether they’re still in the foster system or back with their families. I wanted them to build strong bonds and relationships with each other so they learn they don’t have to go through life dealing with everything alone. Obviously, I’ve succeeded, and I couldn’t be prouder of the home environment I’ve created. It’s also the reason I can’t let this go. The kids in my care haven’t had a parental figure who loved them enough to stand up for them. To show them they’re worth fighting for. They need to see that I value them as people. That I value their safety and sense of peace. That they matter.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I drag it out. My lips tip up at the display, and I answer the call.
“How did your meeting with the principal go?” Oliver asks, skipping social niceties.
I tell him everything that was discussed and explain the lack of further action. Any sense of calm I’d found since leaving Jacobs’ office creeps back in, and I run my free hand through my hair in frustration. “I told him we were going to report the incident to the police and that he’d be hearing from our lawyer. When I mentioned your name, he was obviously shocked.”
I can almost hear Oliver’s smirk over the phone. “Good. The school won’t know what fucking hit them when I’m finished. They’ve failed to acknowledge the seriousness of what those boys did, even when you’ve given them the opportunity to correct their handling of the situation. Now it’s my turn. Nobody hurts my girls and gets away with it.”
The call ends before I can respond. Oliver is a formidable man in business, and I sense he’ll be just as formidable protecting the people he cares about. I look up at the building in front of me and shake my head. “You’re going to wish you’d made a different decision today, Mr. Jacobs,” I whisper to myself.
I wrap the last sandwich in the quiet kitchen and place it in the lunchbox, then zip it closed. A quiet swish draws my attention to the doorway. I turn, and my breath pauses for half a second when I find Evelyn standing there, wringing her hands.
“Hey, you okay?” I ask softly. “I thought you were asleep.”
Worry creases her brow when she looks up at me. “I couldn’t sleep.” She circles her finger in front of her forehead. “My brain won’t stop going in circles.”
My lips tip up with a small smile that I hope is reassuring. “You want to share a hot chocolate with me? I find it helps sometimes.”
Her shoulders drop an inch, and she nods eagerly. “Yeah, thanks.”
I tilt my head toward a stool on the opposite side of the counter. “Take a seat.”
As she sits, I grab everything I need and set about making the hot chocolate. My mind whirls with questions I know I can’t ask or she’ll clam up, and that’s the last thing I want. Evelyn’s always been quiet and introspective, but above all else, she’s sensitive to the moods of others. She needs calm and quiet support, not a million anxious questions shot at her from the other side of the kitchen.
Within a few minutes, I slide two mugs of hot chocolate and some marshmallows across the counter and then join herby taking the stool beside her. “It’s hot. Give it a couple of minutes to cool down, okay?”
“Okay.” She dips closer to the cup, blowing across the surface. I push the bowl of marshmallows toward her, and she takes two, dropping them into the steaming liquid. “Thanks.”
