Chapter 28
chapter twenty-eight
Emme
Today’s Learning Objective:
Students will be able to plan ahead.
Field day existed for many purposes. One less day of instruction to plan at the end of the school year when none of us had the stomach for more of that. An opportunity to let kids cut loose when they had the most energy to burn. A chance to spend the day outside while the weather was perfect. Most importantly, it gave us all something to look forward to—the beginning of the end. It was always the last Friday of the school year, the final event before a short week with class picnics and grade-level promotion parties.
If we could make it to field day, we could make it to the end.
Yet field day had never been any remarkable event. When I’d taken over the coordination in my first year at the school in an attempt to impress my principal, I’d thrown myself into research to find the best activities. I came up with a fairy-tale adventure theme and shaped the games, team names, and awards to match. Fun, cute, silly—and all the supplies came from the phys ed closet. Everyone loved it. And I used that exact playbook for the next few years, mixing up the themes and swapping in different activities. It still required a good deal of prep but I knew what I was doing and everyone was happy enough.
But I knew I’d never be able to go back to that playbook after this year’s field day. No part of my hula hoop hopscotch would ever compete with the professional obstacle course that filled the school grounds. Or the dozens of college athletes—not to mention all the NFL players—on hand to help. There was a climbing wall , for fuck’s sake. And a massive blow-up slide that looked like an obscene amount of fun. I wanted a turn.
As promised, I didn’t have to do a thing. I walked my class outside in the matching t-shirts that’d arrived earlier in the week and the college kids jumped right in, splitting them into small teams and leading them to different stations where Ryan, McKerry, Hersberler, Wilcox, and Bigelow showed them how to complete the activities. There were a few other players from Ryan’s team manning the drills and obstacle courses, including a wide receiver still recovering from knee surgery who’d been appointed the low-impact task of high-fiving kids at the bottom of the slide.
All I had to do was sit on the sidelines and watch very large, very tough men who made a living by being relentlessly aggressive cheer on a bunch of elementary kids. They made accommodations for the kids who needed it and made sure everyone had a chance to succeed. Wilcox followed one anxious kid through an agility course, his hand outstretched and ready the whole time in case the student needed support. Hersberler carried another kid to the top of the blow-up slide after he had a hard time getting the hang of the steps. Bigelow spent half an hour teaching a child with a limb difference how to fall safely—and then taught her a modification of his signature end zone move. McKerry was the loudest, most magnificent cheerleader in the whole world. These kids all walked away from his station with the brightest beaming smiles.
I still didn’t know if Ryan chose the climbing wall as his station or if he’d simply ended up there but he spent the entire day going up and down that wall with kids, talking them through every step and toehold. He hung back with the scared kids who screamed when they were no more than six inches off the ground, and he raced the ambitious ones up the wall, always slowing down just enough at the end to let them win.
I hadn’t anticipated that he’d take it to this level. I knew what he’d said but I still didn’t think it would be this big, this fun, this perfect for all kids. I didn’t think he’d let me down but this was so far from a letdown that I couldn’t even grab hold of my expectations.
And maybe expectations were the problem. Mine didn’t make sense. I’d expected a marriage proposal from Teddy despite him critiquing my body and scolding my food choices. I couldn’t believe Ryan—my oldest friend and newest husband—would want to help with field day despite his constant willingness to help me with anything in the world. Including getting revenge on my ex.
Every teacher stopped me to say how much they loved this year’s event and ask how I pulled it off. All I could do was blame my husband. I sent them to the climbing wall to tell him he’d ruined us all. They thought I was joking but I knew the truth of it.
As I saw it, there were only two options for me. Either I unloaded this event onto an unsuspecting first-year teacher in the fall or I stayed married to Ryan indefinitely.
He was the one who’d insisted we drop the deadlines. I was just doing my part.
Obviously, it was all in good fun. I wasn’t using him for his willingness to hire people to entertain the students so my colleagues and I didn’t suffer any mid-June emotional breakdowns. If I’d ever mentioned needing help for this in the past, he would’ve done the same thing. It wasn’t about the fake marriage.
Or keeping it going until we forgot about the fake part and it turned into a regular old marriage.
Was that what he’d meant by no deadlines? Probably not.
I joined Jamie, Audrey, and Grace in the shade of the building. I followed their gazes to the climbing wall and the divine way the harness bracketed Ryan’s backside.
“You’re being rather obvious,” I announced.
“No one is paying any attention to us,” Grace murmured, a hand shielding the sun from her eyes.
“If you don’t marry him,” Jamie said, “I will.”
“You don’t believe in marriage,” I reminded her. “Or monogamy.”
She tipped her chin toward Ryan as he raced a group of older kids up the wall. “I’d let him change my mind about that.”
It was Audrey— Audrey —who said, “I’d let him crack me like a glow stick.”
We all turned to face the ever demure blonde. It took her a minute to notice since she was eye-fucking my husband.
“Yeah, girl.” Jamie held up her hand for a high-five. Audrey reluctantly met her palm. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“It’s not like it would ever happen. Obviously,” she added. “He’s your fiancé.”
“Have you seen his friends?” Grace asked. “I’m sure one of them would be up for the challenge.”
“They would,” I said, leaning my forearms against the fence. “Let’s see. We have Jaden Wilcox over there. The one with the huge smile. He’s a running back which means he’s carrying the ball and getting it downfield with the intent of gaining yards—and he’s very good at it. His production was unreal last season. Carries, rush yards, scrimmage yards, all of it. He was on fire.”
“You really know football,” Jamie said. “Not just the basics because it’s your boy’s job but you understand the game.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged and went back to looking for the guys. I didn’t want to get into my ancient history. “Colton Squire is the one in the leg brace. He’s a wide receiver so he’s breaking away from the play to get in position to catch a pass. Last I heard, he has a girlfriend.”
“Bummer,” Jamie murmured. “I could’ve nursed him back to health.”
“Damon McKerry is the goofball with the locs. He’s a left guard. He creates lanes in the play and protects the quarterback from the other team’s defense, and he’s an absolute force of nature on the field. There’s no one else like him in the League. He’s also a puppy dog and I’ve heard he’s a big fan of all variety of jerky.”
“I don’t think I have the fortitude for a puppy. Or jerky,” Audrey added. “But he’s precious.”
“Then we have Crawson Bigelow,” I said. “He’s an offensive tackle which means he’s out there clearing blocks for the running backs and looking after the QB’s blind side. Very talented. Also very much in love with his high school sweetheart.”
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I like the preppy one,” Jamie said, tipping her chin toward Hersberler. He kept looking in this direction and shooting smiles at the group. “His shorts were ironed so hard I’d slice my hand on the crease.”
“You are a ride he wouldn’t survive.” I glanced at her. “You’d grind his bones into dust and turn him into your most famous stalker.”
“Figured as much.” She looked back to Audrey. “We’ll find someone for you to play with, love.”
“How do you feel about the defensive line?” I asked.
Audrey scrunched up her nose. “What’s the difference?”
“These guys”—I pointed my water bottle toward McKerry and the others—“are on the offensive side. Their whole objective is protecting the quarterback in order to make opportunities for the running game. The defense is all about shutting down that run game and getting in the QB’s way. Those boys are the size of a barn and they’re strong .”
Audrey hummed as Bigelow swept Hersberler off his feet and carried the tight end from one side of the field to another. “These guys seem strong enough.”
“Mmm. They must be building barns bigger these days because I thought firefighters were brawny,” Grace said.
After a minute of watching Bigelow and Hersberler chasing each other the same way eight-year-olds did, Audrey said, “I think I’ll stick to window shopping.”
“If you change your mind,” I said, “I know where to find them.”
Jamie leaned over to say to Audrey, “I’ve already told her I’m going to be on my worst behavior at her wedding. You should just be bad with me.”
With a grin, Audrey said, “I like the sound of that.”
Ryan strolled into my classroom shortly after dismissal ended. I’d flopped into my desk chair to shovel stale pretzels and peanut M&Ms into my mouth between gulps of water. I hadn’t been required to do much of anything today but I was still sweaty and exhausted from it.
On the other hand, Ryan looked fresh as a daisy.
“You know, you’ve really fucked things up for me,” I said, my cheek full of M&Ms.
He held out his hands. “What? What’s wrong? I thought everything was okay.”
“I’m gonna have to quit my job,” I said, as seriously as I could manage. “There’s no way for me to even come close to this amazingness next year. The kids will heckle me for trying. The teachers too.” I gave a slow shake of my head. “I’m finished here.”
His shoulders bounced as he laughed. “I’m sure there’s another solution.”
“Well. I have thought of one way.” I leaned back in my chair, crossed my arms over my chest. “I just have to figure out how to trap you in this marriage a little longer. I’ll have to trade sexual favors for field day arrangements but that seems like a small price to pay.”
“Not so small.” He edged onto the corner of my desk, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “How long would you need to trap me?”
“I’m not sure yet.” I bit my lip to hold back a giggle. “Probably not more than five years. Ten at the most.”
He reared back. “Shit. Okay. That’s like a for-real marriage.”
“Yeah, I know,” I went on. “That’s taxes, probably some kids, maybe a dog. Definitely a joint holiday photo card with us walking on the beach in coordinated looks. It could get pretty involved. There might even be family gatherings in our future.”
“And the only alternative is leaving your job?”
“Only one I can find.”
“I take it you don’t want to do that?” he asked.
“Not especially. I’m aware that I complain about my job a lot and this year has tested me in ways I don’t care to repeat. It’s left me questioning everything about the education system and wondering if I have what it takes to do this for the long haul. But looking for a new job would suck. Also, I love second grade and everyone at this school, even if Grace is abandoning me for suburbia.”
He shrugged. “Then I guess we’re stuck in this marriage.”
I gave him an exaggerated grimace. “I am so sorry.”
Waving me off, he said, “I’m sorry for putting you in this position. Just for my own scheduling purposes, when do the sexual favors start?”
I pointed to the bookshelves lining the side of the room below the windows. “Not until after I’ve packed up my classroom for the summer.”
He leaned back to get a better look. “All those books need to be packed?”
“Yep. They move all the furniture over and deep clean the floors after school lets out so everything has to be empty.”
The next few days would be busy. Grace and Ben’s couples’ shower was tomorrow and her final dress fitting was on Sunday, and we’d planned to make a lunch-and-pedicures afternoon of it with all the bridesmaids. Monday and Tuesday would be wild with the final days of the school year, and then Ryan and I left on Thursday night for a pro sports awards event in Vegas. The news of our secret wedding was scheduled to drop on Friday and my birthday fell on Sunday, and I didn’t think we could cram much else into those days even if we’d tried.
Grace’s wedding was two weeks away and Ryan reported for training camp not long after that. Based on everything he’d said, it seemed like his franchise deals would go through before the end of July. When we crossed those lines, we wouldn’t need to keep this going. We’d only be doing it because we wanted to—and that felt right but also terribly dangerous, like jumping headfirst into water without knowing what hid under the surface.
Ryan had started longer, more intense workouts and spending time studying game tape. He met with coaches and trainers almost every day. I’d pored over his schedule for the season, nearly gnawing straight through my lip when I realized he’d be on the road for five straight weeks to start. He’d come home between them of course but I’d be going back to school at the same time and I already knew it’d be tough for us. I’d be able to travel to some games but not all of them. Probably not most of them.
I’d had to stop myself when I started looking up how long it would take to fly to Baltimore on a Monday afternoon. I hadn’t even decided if I wanted to attend his games yet and I was already mapping out flight plans. I required seven to ten business days to recover from any amount of travel and I didn’t like putting myself in the spotlight enough to endure a camera panning over me for ten seconds.
It would be tough for me. If we kept this going. But I knew I wouldn’t have to figure it out alone. And I knew with every bit of me that my mother was wrong. Ryan wouldn’t cheat. He wasn’t like any of the men she’d chosen for herself. He wouldn’t lie and he wouldn’t break me.
I stood, pushing away from my desk to grab the storage bins I used for my books. “There’s a system.”
With a nod, he said, “Show me how you want it done.”
“So, you can show me how you want it done when we get home?” I teased.
His gaze landed on my mouth and then scraped over the bustline stretching my t-shirt to its limits. “Yes.”
Oh, these were dangerous waters and I was getting in way too deep. Any minute now, one of us would break and we’d laugh and blow this off as a joke. Just like the time I’d asked him to be my date to the prom at the last minute. I didn’t know why I’d tacked on as a joke, but I had. I didn’t even know what I’d intended by that. But those had been dangerous waters too. We’d held the friendship line hard in high school and we’d never crossed it. Even at the end when we’d made that pact, it’d been as friends.
But we’d crossed the line now—and I didn’t want to go back.