12. Kai
Twelve
Kai
The engine rumbles beneath us as we drive through town.
It’s nice.
A quiet, wealthy suburb with enough of a city hub to make it worth the forty minute commute to New York City.
Outside, Verona rolls past in the soft glow of streetlights and storefronts closing for the night.
The drive is easy.
Comfortable.
Like we've done it a hundred times before.
She thanks me, and I’m stunned—so I do what I always do.
I make it light and funny.
I want her to feel easy with me, not tense.
Never that.
Next, we talk about Bingo.
Mostly because neither of us can believe how vicious church seniors become over twenty-dollar prizes.
“Mrs. Russo threatened bodily harm.”
“She did not.”
“She absolutely did.”
“She threatened your ego.”
“Same thing.”
Mary laughs.
“Mr. Lombardi was worse.”
“What about his friend? The guy in the suspenders?”
“The guy in suspenders cheated.”
“You have no proof,” she says.
“I have instincts.”
“Your instincts punched a councilman.”
“Excellent point,” I concede.
She shakes her head.
Still smiling.
Still easy.
Then we drift into talking about school.
The teachers.
The kids.
The gym project.
The permits.
And just like that, the lightness disappears from her face.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough that I notice.
Enough that I hate it.
“I talked to my brother today.”
“Ego?”
“Yeah. He's the only one I've got, thank fuck.”
That gets a laugh out of her.
“That's nice.”
“What?”
“Having a sibling.”
“Trust me, it's overrated.”
She smiles.
“Maybe. I wouldn’t know. I'm an only child.”
“Yeah?” I say even though I already know this.
Okay, fine.
I already looked into Mary Donahue.
In my defense, investigating people is literally part of my job.
And after Joel Jonas got handsy with her, there was no way in hell I wasn't making sure she was okay.
So yeah.
I ran a background check.
Mary Catherine Donahue.
Thirty-four years old.
First-grade teacher at Our Lady of Grace Academy.
She still lives with her mother in Verona in her childhood home.
No criminal record.
No arrests.
No debt problems.
No stalkers.
At least none besides the married town councilman currently making an ass of himself.
No significant relationships in the last three years.
That one surprised me.
Honestly?
It pissed me off.
Because she's great.
Funny.
Smart.
So fucking pretty.
And she’s kind—really kind.
Mary is the type of woman men should be lining up to date.
Instead, the most recent thing I found was a church speed-dating event she'd attended last year.
One date.
No follow-up.
No boyfriend.
No fiancé.
No ex lurking around causing trouble.
Just Mary.
Going to work.
Going to church.
Helping her mom.
Teaching kids.
Trying to save a school that desperately needs someone in its corner.
The deeper I dug, the more impossible it became to understand how a woman like her had been single this long.
Then again, most guys are idiots.
Wouldn't be the first time a gem like her went unnoticed, and really, I’m fucking glad.
Means I don’t have to beat the shit out of some fucker who doesn’t deserve her—not like I do.
Whoa.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
I am not dating Mary Donahue for keeps.
This is a fake thing—okay fine, maybe I like her.
I definitely want her.
But can I keep her?
Not likely.
And that pisses me off.
“Yep. Mom and Dad split after I was born, and she never took the plunge again. So, I am it.”
She glances over at me.
“Honestly? When Ego ghosted Sabrina after that whole Marco debacle, you almost became an only child, too.”
I bark out a laugh.
“Jesus.”
“I'm serious.”
“I believe you.”
“You should.”
I shake my head.
“You know, you're kind of scary for a schoolteacher.”
That earns me a look.
A look.
The kind that probably terrifies six-year-olds into turning their homework in on time.
“Then you know absolutely nothing about schoolteachers.”
“Apparently.”
“We need to be tough. First graders are fierce.”
I glance over.
“You're not helping improve my image of you.”
“Good. Then you won’t lose sight of the goal,” she teases.
But it stings a little.
Cause the truth is, I like her. I like spending time with her.
And knowing there’s an end in sight?
Well, that just sucks the fun right out of what we’re doing.