CHAPTER 26
Jason
A nticipation thrums stronger than any jolt from the coffee brewing in the corner. I lean into a high-backed chair, my hands braced on the conference table. The lemon polish scent intrudes as we strategize an upcoming live stream at the Brooklyn food and music festival. Following Valentina’s idea to branch into the city’s life, we’re transforming our network into a true family hub. My team has secured permission to live stream the event. This isn’t my usual domain, but she believes the CEO’s involvement will boost our profile and credibility. I also want to ensure the process aligns with our brand.
“Our setup and takedown should be easy.” The event coordinator outlines the logistics, including security and emergency procedures.
“What about the equipment? Can we make it through without breaking anything?” I focus on our tech director. We had to buy new cameras last month after an event went wrong. “How many videographers do we have on Saturday?”
“Hunt’s handling the videography team,” Aila responds. The recessed lighting’s soft glow accentuates her short hair. In her mid-forties, she’s one of the best tech pros, and she’s been with Family Sphere from the start. She now delves into the technical setup, detailing the camera placement, sound system, internet connectivity, and backup plans. All of which boosts my confidence.
I pat the table. “We’ve got this down, guys.”
I pivot to our director of photography.
“You have nothing to worry about.” Hunt nods. I can’t quite remember his first name. Poised with an air of confidence, he’s clean-cut with an imposing appearance. Probably older than me if those gray hairs give any indication. “I got our two best videographers for the event. The equipment will be safe.”
The content producer outlines key segments, and the host discusses guiding the audience through the event, engaging with participants, and handling live interactions. The marketing director, creative director, finance manager, and head of public relations give updates.
I glance around the table, glad to be part of the planning process this time. “Bring family members along.” My kids and Valentina might join us. “Let’s make it a family-oriented project.”
As we’re wrapping up, my phone vibrates, and Valentina’s name flashes. I excuse myself and step into the hallway to answer.
“School called.” Valentina doesn’t bother with a greeting. “Eden got in a fight.”
“She never fights.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, facing the Family Sphere tower painting on the wall. There must be a serious explanation.
“Matthew has a dental appointment.” Or so Eden said when praying for him before we left this morning. “Take a taxi. Meet you there as soon as I can.”
“You, um, want me to go?”
She’s not just the kids’ nanny now. “You’ll get there sooner than me.”
I hang up before it strikes me that she might not be at my mom’s house and it might take her longer to reach the school. Back in the conference room, I can’t focus on the remnants of the meeting, so I force a smile and gather my iPad. “Thank you, everyone, for your hard work. I need to leave you to wrap things up now.”
Beatrix stops typing and eyes me, so I nod to assure her I’m fine. To everyone else, I add, “If you have any questions, please pass them to Beatrix.”
The mild midmorning traffic moves smoothly. Otherwise, I might’ve run every yellow light or considered tagging along behind the police car wailing its sirens to some crisis ahead of me. I park and hurry inside the school. Soon, I’m ushered into the principal’s office where Eden sits beside Valentina at the meeting table. Her hair falls in two loose braids she styled herself, courtesy of Valentina’s lessons. I slide into a seat on her other side, then nod to the other parents across from us. Great, they’re prominent school donors I recognize from parent leadership meetings. Their daughter nurses a beverage from a well-known coffee brand, her eyes blotchy and her nose bandaged—an unsettling sight.
The principal laces his hands on the table. “Thanks for coming.” His bald head shines beneath the bright fluorescent light. He then outlines the school policy before turning his attention to Eden. “Would you now share why you hit Milan?”
I take Eden’s hand, her palm moist against mine, but she remains stiff, eyes downcast. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You can tell us.”
“She”—Eden clears her throat and scuffles her oxfords as she resumes her whisper—“and her friends have been saying mean things to me.”
My gaze slices to the other parents. I know she shouldn’t have resorted to hitting, but several forms of bullying are going on here.
“Eden.” Principal Caine cuts in. “You know we don’t tolerate bullying or fighting of any kind at St. Martin’s. Look at Milan now...”
Heat surges through my chest. “My daughter is not a bully.”
“How come Milan didn’t tell us why she got hit?” Valentina interjects. “In courts, we hear from both parties for a reason.”
“Well, it’s obvious. Milan’s the one injured.” The mom fans herself with her manicured fingers. She must need it with her brown hair pulled back so tight it’s gotta be cutting off any air circulation.
Principal Caine gestures to their daughter to speak. “Milan, why don’t you clarify this for us?”
“All I said was that she doesn’t have a mom.”
“That’s not all you said!” Eden shrieks.
I squeeze her hand in assurance.
Valentina pats Eden’s other shoulder, then draws out a breath. “Milan, how long have you and your friends been taunting Eden?”
“I just...we just—”
“Eden shouldn’t have quit counseling,” Mrs. Williams interferes while Mr. Williams remains silent, his gaze flicking to his vibrating phone as if he’s expecting an urgent call.
“How do you know about my daughter’s counseling?” I demand. “You’re not the school psychiatrist, last I checked.”
“There’s been a breach of confidentiality.” Valentina’s protective tone bolsters my resolve.
“That’s beside the point here.” Principal Caine adjusts his tie. “Eden, you’re going to be suspended for fighting.”
“What?” I jolt.
Valentina speaks up. “Can we have an adult meeting first?”
He nods and dials for his assistant, who comes to escort the girls out. Eden’s eyes are sparkly with tears, and I squeeze her hand. “It’s going to be okay.” I’m not sure how yet.
Valentina gives her a warm smile, squeezing her shoulder, and Eden looks at her, hopeful.
“I had to do what I had to do,” Eden murmurs.
Valentina winks at her, a silent affirmation of some unspoken understanding.
As the door closes behind the students, I hold an open palm toward the principal. “This isn’t just about a fight. It’s about what led to it. My daughter never fights.”
Valentina’s silver earrings dance against her cheek when she nods. “If we’re considering suspension, we need a comprehensive review. Assessing the environment to foster and support all the students involved in this is important.”
“Bottom line”—Principal Caine wags a finger—“We have a no-bullying policy here.”
“I understand.” Valentina gives a saccharine smile. I thought I knew her before, but I didn’t understand the extent of her fierceness. She sits up straight, taking charge. “Can you articulate the school’s definition of bullying?”
“Well, Miss—”
“Valentina. Why don’t I start with the usual standard of bullying and you can explain where—or if—the school’s definition deviates.” She then meticulously breaks down what constitutes verbal abuse. “It’s clear someone else is involved. If Milan has been ganging up with her friends—”
“Our Milan is innocent,” Mrs. Williams asserts, her husband nodding before he checks his phone.
“All parents consider their children innocent, unfortunately, even the real bullies.” Valentina tsks. “Both Eden and Milan have violated St. Martin’s strict and commendable antibullying policy. If Eden is suspended today, Milan must be suspended too, as must her friends who should’ve been summoned here already.”
“I don’t think so.” Principal Caine scratches his salt-and-pepper beard.
Valentina chuckles and sinks into her chair, displaying that astounding and attractive confidence. Meanwhile, I’m a tumult of emotions, wanting nothing more than to pull my daughter out of this school and never face this battle again. I’m only still here because I’m now curious how this ends.
“Here’s the thing—if you wrongly suspend Eden and let the real bullies roam free, how do you think she’ll feel when she returns from suspension? Confident and bold, or cowed and victimized?”
Principal Caine shifts. “Do I have to answer that?”
She stands, her nostrils flaring. “Ever heard of Valentina Diaz? Look the name up and remember we have freedom of speech. You suspend Eden today and leave her bully unpunished, your school is my next reality show.”
“You can’t do that.” He stands too, his eyes almost bulging out of their sockets.
She slings her bag over her shoulder and looks at me. “Ready to go?”
“Yes.” My chest swells, still stunned by this incredible woman beside me. I stand and entwine Valentina’s fingers in mine.
“Mr. Sterling, you need to talk to your girlfriend,” he mutters.
No reason to correct him. She’s listed under the kids’ emergency contacts, after all, but girlfriend has a great ring to it.
“Let’s have the kids back in. Wait here.” At Principal Caine’s request, we hover closer to the door as he dials his secretary. Soon, Eden enters and rushes to us, her brows knitted together. The principal stands, holding up a hand as if he’s in command here. “Eden and Milan will both go back to class. But no more fighting.”
“Or saying mean words,” Valentina adds.
Mrs. Williams rolls her eyes. “You’re being manipulative, and you know it.”
“It takes a manipulator to know one,” Valentina responds, radiating strength. Man, she’s something. She’s wearing a yellow dress with dainty print, and her wide elastic belt emphasizes her slender waist. Even on such short notice, she looks impeccable because she always dresses tastefully.
But today confirms what I’ve been pondering. I need to consider changes for the kids’ school.
Before we leave, the principal offers us rooms to talk to our children privately. He lets the other family take his office while they send us to a room with a copier, the smell of paper heavy in the air, further proving they defer to the higher donors.
I draw in a deep breath of that air before facing my daughter. “I can’t believe you beat somebody up. She must have really upset you.” I touch the curls at the end of her braid. “Are you okay?”
Her nod swings the braid from my light grip. “Sometimes with bullies, you have to stand your ground and do what it takes.”
“Look at you, speaking like a tough girl from Queens.”
“Or from Brooklyn.” Valentina smirks.
“Or Queens and Brooklyn.” Eden links her left arm with mine, her right with Valentina’s.
Valentina tips her head against Eden’s. “Milan and her friend will have to find someone else to pick on.”
“Wait a minute.” I pull away enough to look between my two girls. Well, Valentina has no idea she’s mine or vice versa. Her knowing smile catches me off guard. “Did you—”
“Val told me how she fought off a bully once.”
“It’s a long story.” Valentina waves me off.
“If you want to be done with school today, you can come with us,” I offer to Eden.
“Or you can stay and show those bullies you’re not running away and you’re ready to challenge the next one.”
“I’ll stay.” She straightens her spine with a confidence I’ve never seen her portray.
As we say goodbye, she throws her arms around me. “I love you, Daddy.”
I thought she was getting too old to initiate hugs. I squeeze her back. “I love you too, munchkin.” I haven’t called her that since Daisy left.
She then hugs Valentina and tells her the same thing. Valentina is quiet, hugging her back. When she responds, her voice is hoarse. “I love you too.”
If it wasn’t for Valentina, I might have lashed out and pulled all three kids out of school before the end of the school year. Then I’d be scrambling with what to do with them out of school sooner than necessary.
This connection between Valentina and me isn’t just romantic—it’s familial, it’s protective, it’s what Eden and I need.
After Eden leaves, I close the door for a moment alone with Valentina. I spin her around so her back is to the door, and I cage her in with my arms.
She wipes tears from her eyes. “She said she loves me.” Her voice trembles, her breath warm, lips slightly parted, a subtle lipstick enhancing their roundness.
“She’s not your only fan in my family.” My voice dips low. “I’m your number one fan lately.”
She adjusts the purse strap on her shoulder. “Is that so?”
I nod. “Thanks so much for coming with me.” I dip my head until my forehead rests on hers, soft against mine. “I knew you were fierce, but today was on another level.”
Her breath catches. “Does that mean my temper surpasses yours, Grumps?”
“That’s still debatable.”
She jabs me in the abs, and I chuckle. “You were like a mother hen in there.”
“I’m sorry if—”
“I loved it. I love everything about you.” My gaze travels from her eyes down to her lips. Like her yellow dress, she’s sunshine on a rainy day. I thought she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. I revise that now—she’s the only woman I’ve ever truly seen.
“I don’t care about the rules and boundaries we made.” Warmth floods me the way it does in her presence. “I think...” But I can’t go on. My voice has grown too hoarse, and her rushed breathing intensifies my desire to kiss her.
“Me too.” Her eyes, fanned with long eyelashes, search mine, and my lips twitch.
“I haven’t felt like this with anyone in a long time. Maybe since I’m an adult, I see things differently.”
“Same.” Her lips brush mine.
Before I know it, I’m kissing her, my fingers caressing her neck, her hair like spun silk. She clenches my shirt, melting into me, and I’m floating. I savor the taste of her lipstick and breathe in her fresh scent. We’re both gasping for air by the time we separate. I kiss her cheek again.
“I looked up your name, and it suits you. Strength.”
She lets out a gasped breath and manages a shy smile. “I love that you call me Valentina.” Her fingers trance my neck as she adjusts my collar.
“Have lunch with me.” I run my hand through her hair, attempting to straighten it.
“Don’t you have to go back to work?”
“I’m the boss.” I wink, breaking the intensity. “I can afford to take the rest of the day off.”
“As long as I take you to one of my favorite food trucks in Brooklyn.”
“And I’ll take you to mine.”
“Deal.” Her eyes gleam.
And I kiss her again, everything else fading until the whir of the printer tears us apart.