Beautiful women.
Exciting women.
Women who belong in Manhattan penthouses and rooftop bars.
Not chubby first-grade teachers with unruly red hair, who spend their afternoons tying shoelaces and cleaning glue off tiny fingers.
Not women with my kind of curves.
Not women who own more cardigans than cocktail dresses.
Not women who consider buying stickers an exciting shopping trip.
And yet, he just keeps popping up.
Which makes absolutely no sense.
A knock interrupts my spiral.
The classroom door opens.
And speak of the devil.
Four
Mary
Kai Montego strolls inside, carrying a cardboard tray of coffees.
My traitorous stomach immediately flips.
Fantastic.
“Afternoon, Firecracker.”
I freeze.
Sister Agnes beams.
What the heck is my life right now?
“Hello, Sister,” he says, charming the older woman easily.
“What are you doing here?”
He sets a coffee on my desk.
The smell immediately makes me weak.
Dark roast.
Hazelnut.
A dollop of half and half.
Exactly how I like it.
I narrow my eyes.