Chapter 3
Chapter Three
HARPER
“ V ermilion just adores you. You’re her favorite teacher. Even more than her art teacher.”
I smile back at the woman with auburn curls standing in front of me. It’s clear that Vermilion is a spitting image of her mother. “She’s a bright young girl.”
“She’s never wanted to learn before, and we have to pull her away from her homework every night now. And thankfully, her sister has stopped stealing her books.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Vermilion loves reading.”
“And I have you to thank for that.”
I shake the woman’s hand as she follows her husband over to Vermilion’s desk to see the work she’s done this year.
I always enjoy our fall parent night. It’s intimate, cozy. I smile as the parents loiter about, chatting familiarly with each other. With the night coming to an end, I start putting away the papers in each student’s desk for those that forgot to take them.
“Hey.” Rina comes into the room as Vermilion’s parents wave goodbye. “Dan just called and I have to pick up Laura from the sitter. She’s sick and he can’t leave his work dinner. Would you mind watching my class for any parents?”
“You know they aren’t my students though, right?”
Rina clasps her hands under her chin. “Please? There’s only ten minutes left. I doubt anyone will come.”
“Fine.” I wave her out of my room. “Go. I’ll keep an eye on both rooms.”
“You’re the best.” Rina hugs me before rushing out of the room. “I owe you!”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Grabbing my lesson planner and my wheelie chair, I drag it to the doorway to sit and keep an eye on both rooms. Student artwork lines the hallway where the two second grade classrooms are. I love that our school is smaller so the classes aren’t packed with kids.
A few parents and teachers walk through the halls. I smile at them as they pass, but it’s mostly quiet. With the evening winding down, most have already come and gone.
It gives me the time to plan out my lessons without interruption. And without having to take them home to work on them.
Pounding footsteps sound from the hallway behind me.
“Am I too late? Did I miss it?”
That voice. It doesn’t matter that it’s out of breath and echoing around the room.
The notebook in my hand falls to the floor.
That voice.
His voice. The one that haunts my dreams. Well, nightmares more like it.
The one that told me he loved me more than life itself. Nothing would ever come between us. He promised. He lied.
Seven years have passed, and I am still unprepared. My stomach swooshes and bile rises, and for a moment, I’m frozen.
I spin in my chair toward the voice because I don’t think my legs could hold my weight right about now.
There he is.
Marcus Evans.
The man who obliterated my heart. Standing in this hallway in front of me.
“What the fuck?”
Marcus
“What the fuck?”
Holy shit. I haven’t heard that voice in seven years.
Seven years .
Harper Smith. The love of my life and my college sweetheart.
And at one point, my wife. Well, supposed wife. Apparently the paperwork never got filed correctly.
“What the fuck me ? What the fuck you? My daughters are in your class?”
Harper’s blue eyes go wide.
“Your daughters?”
“I thought Mrs. Gonzalez was their teacher?”
Harper was never one to hide her emotions. Especially from me.
And right now, I can see every single emotion play out on her face. Shock. Disbelief. Anger. Rage.
Yeah, rage just about sums up the look on her face. If she were spitting fire, I wouldn’t be surprised.
Someone brushes by me and waves to Harper. She schools her face and gives a polite wave before the mask drops.
Back to anger and rage.
All directed at me.
“Your daughters?” Harper hisses. “What, you couldn’t keep it in your pants and knocked some girl up, and that’s why you left?”
“Christ, Harper, really? You think I would cheat on you?”
Harper unfurls herself from her chair. I shouldn’t be noticing how she looks, but damn. She looks just as good now as the day I met her back in college.
Stunning. Sexy.
She’s in a pair of black, skinny pants and a white button-up blouse with puff sleeves. Her long, blonde hair is curled, pulled back with a bejeweled headband—covered in rulers, pencils and apples—that she always loved wearing at school.
Fuck. Harper is really standing in front of me. I always imagined bumping into her, but never thought it would happen.
Now, in the girls’ school of all places?
Fuck.
“How the hell would I know, Marcus? You left me, remember?”
“I don’t need you to recount our past, Harper.” She recoils away from me, like I burned her. “I remember.”
“Well, then, you must excuse me because I’m not going to have this conversation with you right now.”
Harper stoops over to grab the notebook that fell out of her lap and turns to head into one of the classrooms. Hers, I’m guessing.
Memories I haven’t thought about in years slam into me the second I step foot inside her classroom. Because if there’s one thing I remember, it’s the way Harper set up her classroom that summer before she started teaching.
I went with her—so I could hang up the things she couldn’t reach, she told me.
Pictures from books. Beanbag chairs. Letters. Numbers. Things she made to put on each desk to welcome the students.
So much of our lives back then was wrapped up in my job and playing hockey. Hell, it’s what brought the two of us to Nashville to start with. I loved getting to go with her that day and see how excited Harper was for the start of the school year.
But that’s not the woman standing in front of me now.
Harper is slipping into a black jacket and throwing a purse over her shoulder.
“That’s all you have to say to me?”
Harper ties the trench coat around her and holds on to the ends of the belt. Almost as if she’s trying to defend herself against me. It makes my heart ache even thinking about it.
“What do you want me to say? I have nothing left for you, Marcus.”
Harper moves to brush by me, but I grab her arm, stopping her in place. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave?”
“I guess I’m taking a page from your playbook.”