SAYLOR
The bell rang, signaling the end of another lively school day. I smiled as my eleventh-grade history class began packing up their things, the usual chaos of chairs scraping and laughter filling the room.
“Remember, your projects on the civil rights movement are due next Friday,” I called out over the noise. “And please actually read the rubric this time!”
A familiar voice piped up from the third row. “Mom, you say that every time.”
I turned to see my oldest, Levi Jr., grinning at me with his father’s mischievous brown eyes and my stubborn chin. At sixteen years old and in my class this year, he was equal parts proud and embarrassed to have his mom as his teacher.
The rest of the class snickered. I gave my son a pointed look, fighting a smile. “Exactly, LJ. Yet some people still forget. Now go on, all of you. Dismissed.”
As the kids filed out, LJ lingered by my desk. “Dad’s picking us up today, right? He said he finished the custom bike early, and I was hoping we could go over to The Pit so I could see it”
“Yes, he did.” I wagged my finger at him. “And you’re not fooling me at all.”
He widened his eyes innocently. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Mom.”
“You may not ride the new bike yet, mister. Not until he’s had a chance to take it for several test runs. Just in case.”
He groaned dramatically but hugged me quickly before dashing out with his friends, calling over his shoulder, “See you out front.”
I watched him go with a full heart.
Seventeen years. Sometimes it still felt surreal.
Levi and I had gotten married the weekend after he proposed.
LJ came eight months later. Quickly followed by four more, which meant lots of maternity leave instead of time in the classroom.
I’d finally just cut back to part-time after Sara was born.
But now she was in first grade, so I was back to a full course load.
Much to LJ’s dismay since it was just in time to be the only option for him to take American History this year.
The classroom door opened again. Levi stepped in, looking ridiculously handsome in his cut, jeans, and boots. Even after all these years, he was still the sexiest man alive as far as I was concerned. And he was all mine.
“Hey, baby.” He crossed the room and pulled me into his arms, kissing me like we’d been apart for weeks instead of hours. “Missed you.”
“I missed you too,” I murmured against his lips. “LJ mentioned you finished the bike?”
“Yeah.” His hand drifted down my back, his thumb brushing the spot where my property patch would sit if I were wearing my vest. Although the school district had no issues with the Redline Kings, and the club was one of their biggest donors, I wasn't supposed to have it on while teaching. “Think he’s figured out yet that it’s for him? ”
“Nope, but he’s definitely aiming to talk you into letting him take it for a ride.” I smiled up at him. “You spoil them.”
“Damn right I do.” He kissed me again. “Got a good woman and five amazing kids. Gotta spoil my family.”
“And you do a very good job of it.”
“I better.” He held his hand out to me. “Ready to go home, Mrs. Wharton?”
“Always.”
As we walked out of the classroom hand in hand, I couldn’t help but think how perfectly my life had turned out. My sister and I might only exchange the occasional letter here and there, but the Redline Kings had given me more family than I ever could’ve hoped for.