Chapter 16
Cienna
Five minutes before dismissal, Michelle and I helped the children gather their belongings and huddle by the door. When I opened it to greet the parents, I glanced around, searching for Reed, but I didn’t see him. My mind was a confusing mix of relief and disappointment.
How the fuck, Cici. How could you possibly still be pining over that fuck—
“Ms. Vilotta?” A little hand tugged at my skirt. “My mommy is there, can I go?”
I came back to the world outside my head and excused Chase to go to his mom. One by one, I let each child out the door to their parents.
When only a few children remained, a beautiful blond woman with the brightest smile stepped into the classroom. “Abi, ready?” she said, and Abi ran to her with a hug.
“Tell your teacher you’ll see her tomorrow,” the woman instructed.
Abigail gave me an enthusiastic wave, then turned with her mother and left the classroom, still no Reed.
Just his gorgeous wife and my increasing jealousy and jabbing insecurities.
What was even the point of a fling with me when he came home to a beautiful woman like that?
Taking advantage of the little bit of time I had before this dreaded meeting, I tidied the classroom and ran to the bathroom, checking my makeup and smoothing out my dress while I gave myself a pep talk.
Pull. Your. Shit. Together. Cienna.
You. Are. A. Badass.
Men. Suck.
He. Wasn’t. Even. A. Good. Kisser.
That was where I stopped. No use lying to myself.
When I walked back into my classroom, Karen had already pulled some chairs together at a table and was sitting across from Reed. He looked up, and any resolve built from my pep talk crumbled.
My vision betrayed my mind as glimpses of moments with him flitted around, emptying any reasonable thought and replacing it with kisses that were like breathing crisp ocean air and touches that felt both familiar and like things to come.
“Cienna, I think you’ve met Mr. Marsh.”
No, I met Reed, and it was much easier to regret a vacation fling, a ghost, than a lie.
I nodded curtly. “Yes.”
Reed nodded as well, looking my way but not making eye contact. I fidgeted with my hands under the table, pulling at the fabric of my skirt while keeping my focus on Karen as she continued. “As you both know, we have a unique situation here, and I want to brainstorm how we can handle it best.”
Reed cleared his throat and spoke. “I just want to do what’s best for Abigail, but I trust that this is the best place for her.”
I met his stare. There were so many emotions behind the swirling green, but one thing stuck out the most. Concern.
Of course he was concerned. His daughter was placed in a school with the woman he cheated on his wife with. I tried a calming breath, but it came out more like a huff.
“I’m not sure what the point of this meeting is, Karen?” I finally said boldly. “Clearly, I will treat Abigail like any other child in the classroom. She’s lovely, and I’m a professional.”
Utter embarrassment crossed her features. “Surely, you see how this situation differs from other children, Cienna. She will require some special treatment, and I was assuring Mr. Marsh that you would handle the situation gently.”
Was I being scolded? What had he even told her?
I sat up in my seat and looked straight at Reed, stifling a glare. “Of course.”
Karen shot me a confused expression before turning back to Reed.
“When I met Caroline, she was so pleased with the program here and had so many wonderful things to say about Abigail. When I heard about your loss, I was crushed. I’m so very sorry.”
Loss?
Reed cleared his throat, peering down at the table, then looked back up to Karen. “Thank you. I know this is what she wanted for her.”
What were they talking about? I glanced at the file, berating myself for not going through it before this meeting. I was too busy being pissy and petty to do my job, and now I had no idea what was going on.
“Is that okay with you, Cienna?” Karen nudged my arm.
Shaking myself free from my thoughts, I answered, “Hmm?”
“I’m going to show Mr. Marsh around the rest of the school, and we will be back to finish up.” She shot a what the actual fuck glare my way.
“Oh yes, okay.”
As they walked out of the room, I opened Abigail’s file, and the words hit me like a sledgehammer.
Abigail was admitted in May by her mother, Caroline Marsh. Mother passed away from a car accident in June. Abigail is in the care of her uncle, Reed Marsh. Reed is single and new to being a caretaker. We have assured him we will do what we can to support him and Abigail during their difficult time.
Uncle. Heat filled my face.
Loss. My stomach dropped.
Reed. A tear dropped down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away as he and Karen walked back in.
“Your school is lovely, Mrs. Avila. I know Abi is in good hands here.” He looked over at me, warmth and sadness and so much more coloring his gaze.
“Oh, please call me Karen. I’ll leave you with Ms. Vilotta, and she can show you around the classroom and answer any questions you might have about Abigail’s kindergarten experience.
” She held out a guiding hand toward where I stood, speechless and numb.
“Please feel free to reach back out if you have any more concerns.” The look she gave me from there was a warning.
Shit. I fucked up. Real bad. Shit. Shit. Shit.
Karen shut the door behind her, and Reed and I stood there in silence for a moment.
I should have been the one to talk first, but all I could do was stare and reassess the entire situation.
I fumed all summer, pissed off about a guy who blew me off, while he was mourning his sister.
I spent the entire day thinking about keying his car, while he worried about his niece coping through her first day of school.
I called him names out loud and even worse ones in my head.
“Cienna,” he said, not making a move toward me. His shoulders hung low. “I would have—”
“Reed, I’m so sorry,” I cut him off, taking a step toward him. “I had no idea.”
He tucked his hands in his front pockets and rocked back and forth. His body language was unrecognizable. Slumped and withdrawn. “I would have been mad too,” he said with a shrug.
“I called you a fucking cheater. I wanted to key your car.” I struggled to choke back tears of shame as those words poured from my mouth unfiltered.
“You what?” His face changed, and I saw a glimpse of the amusement that constantly played on his face months ago.
Peeking up at him through my lashes, I clarified, “I thought you told my boss.”
“You thought I told your boss? What. About us? I mean, about our… I mean, knowing each other before?” His amusement was gone, replaced by scrunched brows and tight lips.
Knowing each other. That was what it was, I guess. We “knew each other.”
All I could do was nod, though I caught a brief grimace from him. An unspoken agreement that “we knew each other” didn’t quite fit the situation, but what else could we say?
Reed took a few steps toward me, and my initial reaction was to walk to him and hug him tight enough to squeeze the sorrow and heaviness from him. But I just knew him now, and I was his niece’s teacher.
I tilted my head and gave him my most professional smile, then pointed to the wall behind him.
“Those are our cubbies. I’m not sure if you remember from earlier, but Abigail’s cubby is on the far right.
She drew a picture to add to it.” My teacher mode kicked in, removing some of the awkwardness, at least in my mind.
Normalizing this situation was the best way to get through it.
Our footsteps filled the heavy silence as he followed me to the cubby.
I pointed at her self-portrait that she’d proudly hung next to her name.
She had used the brightest orange crayon, Sherbert, to make wild curlicues around her head.
Too-big circles represented her lime-green eyes, and she’d used a peach marker to create a crescent moon shape as her nose.
Her lips were bright red, and she’d drawn a smile that was so big it would have shown her teeth if she had sketched them in.
Reed chuckled. “A masterpiece.”
“It really is,” I agreed. “Her little personality was like sweet bits of sunshine all over the classroom today.”
Reed’s smile hit his eyes, a gleam appearing in them. The corner of his lips quickly shifted back down, and he sniffled as he looked to a different side of the room.
Any lingering bad thoughts about him dissipated in that moment.
It took everything I had to stay professional and not reach over, grab his face, and kiss that frown off.
The last time we were together, we couldn’t be close enough, touching enough.
Polar opposite from where we were now—frozen, trying to navigate a teacher-parent relationship, the air between us both heavy and electric.
“Listen, where Abigail is concerned, we will do everything to support you and your family.”
He flinched at the word family, and I could only imagine the bits of pain different words inflicted after all he had been and was still going through.
The teacher in me wanted to reach out and touch his arm reassuringly. Give him a gentle reminder of my sympathy without risking more words. But the worry that it would be misconstrued, mixed with our past, stopped me.
“I know you’re adjusting to a new normal, and I’m here if you need me.” I hoped my voice conveyed what my touch would have.
His hands were back in his pockets, and his toe tapped the ground soundlessly.
“Yeah, it’s all new, but we’re learning together.
” He feigned a smile. The kind you gave to appease others’ discomfort.
I knew that smile, but it was so unfamiliar on his face.
My fingertips zapped with the need to touch those lips and shape his mouth to the grins he gave so easily months before.
“Teacher me” kicked in before I did something stupid. Don’t touch. Just teacher things. We can do this.
“Her supplies are due on Friday, but if you haven’t purchased them already, the PTA has ready-made packs you can buy. Would you like a flyer?”
He froze, and his face turned blank. “Supplies? Oh, I had no idea.” He removed his hands from his pockets, letting them flop at his side. “What does she need? Like, crayons?”
I forgave him for what could have been perceived as dismissive words. Assuming only crayons were associated with kindergarten, not pencils, journals, notebooks, and rulers, because why would such young children need those? I set the internal soapbox aside.
“Did you receive the welcome packet?”
His wince told me all I needed to know. “I may have. I’m a bit disorganized at the moment, but I don’t recall anything like that.”
Easing into what I knew best, I strode to my desk and opened the drawer, flipped right to the file folder containing our packets, then handed one over to him. “Take a minute to sift through and let me know if you have any questions.” Parent. Teacher. We can do this.
As he read, his brows crept closer to his hairline with each page turn. He stopped a few times to look up at me with his jaw tight and his gaze clouded with defeat. “Lunch card?”
“It’s like a refillable credit card for hot lunch at school. Great for when you forget lunch in the morning.”
He nodded, then asked, “PTA?”
“Our parent-teacher association. They plan ways to support the school and build our community.”
“Okay. Back to School Night?”
“Yes, next week. A chance for you to see what we will be working on this year and what you can expect as a kindergarten parent.” I stumbled on the last word.
After closing his packet and shaking the bundle of papers with finality, he shrugged and said, “So much to learn.” His tone was much heavier than his casual body language portrayed.
“If you need anything, my contact information is on the back page. I respond to emails pretty quickly. And I’m usually in the classroom from as early as 7:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. if you ever need to pop in.” Exactly what a teacher would say. Teacher. Parent. We can do this.
He exhaled with a light laugh. “That’s a long day.”
Lifting my shoulders, I put on my shiniest teacher smile. “I enjoy what I do and want to be available.”
When I finally glanced up, our eyes met, and his searched deep into mine. A buzzing interrupted our shared stare, and I forced my breath to ease out, a mixture of relief and disappointment shaking through me.
He pulled out his phone, answering immediately.
“Hey, everything okay?” Cupping his chin, he looked up as he listened to the person on the other end.
“Okay, yes. I’m on my way now.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he listened for one more moment, then added, “You too.” Hanging up, he dropped his hands down to his sides.
“I have to head home now.” He pursed his lips in an unreadable expression. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
You too. Home.
I tried not to think of whoever was on the other end, receiving those words. You too, what? Coming home to who? Was there a casual way to ask about the sunshiny blonde who picked Abigail up today? It was none of my business, though, was it?
Parent. Teacher. We can do this, right?
But something made my chest ache enough to rub it. His world, this person I knew before, was rapidly crashing into mine.