Chapter 30
Delaney
It’s criminal to have teachers working in August without air-conditioning.
Walking to the window to open it, I pluck at the front of my dress to cool off.
A breeze sneaks in through the crack as soon as the window is lifted, giving quick relief and helping to clear the musty scent in the room after being closed up all summer.
Three-quarter sleeves were a mistake, but I wanted to wear something nice on the first day of my new job. I add fans to my never-ending list of supplies I need to buy to outfit the room before school starts in two weeks.
“Knock. Knock.” I look up to see an unfamiliar face. “Hi, I’m Art, but the kids call me Mr. Johnson. I teach in the science lab down the hall. Wanted to stop by and introduce myself.”
“Hi, come on in.” I stand to shake his hand. He’s older, older than Warner, which seems to be my baseline for comparison with men these days. “Delaney Bayetti.”
“Bayetti?” He walks to the window to look out, like he’s comparing my views to the ones from his room. “Like the restaurant? Great food. Have you ever been?”
“A lot.” I rest my hands on the back of the chair. “I was practically born in that kitchen. It’s my family’s restaurant.”
He looks back at me over his shoulder. “Whoa, we got a real-live celebrity working at Astor Elementary.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Waffling my head, I laugh. “Okay, go ahead.”
Laughing, he scopes out the outside area again. “Nice view.”
Working at this elementary school was at the top of my list of schools when looking for a job. It’s tucked into a pocket of the city with a great neighborhood vibe, trees lining the street, and less traffic. “I like the trees.”
“I face the air-conditioning units. They’re loud, but I know how to project.” Coming back, he says, “You shouldn’t wear a necklace like that. It’s a safe neighborhood, but it could stir trouble.”
Clutching the necklace Warner gave me, I smile half-heartedly. “Nothing to worry about. It’s just crystals or fake stones.”
“Those aren’t crystals. Trust me, Geology was a minor. But I can prove it to you.”
Not crystals? Of course, they are. That would be ridiculous to give someone you barely know an expensive diamond necklace. “Okay, how?”
“I’ll be right back.”
When he leaves, a memory returns of his mother scolding Warner when she thought he’d bought my knockoff ring.
I spoke too soon for him to address that issue, but now I’m confident he would have reassured her.
The velvet box, the weight of the metal, and the heft of the clear stones.
No way. This has at least thirty diamonds, probably more like fifty, wrapped around it.
When Art rushes back in, he holds up a handheld device.
“This is a diamond tester. The kids love it when we find real ‘diamonds’ on the playground.” He laughs.
“It’s not an expensive machine, but it works most of the time.
It often confuses moissanite for diamonds, so I place tiny chips around the playground for the kids to find for us to test.”
“That’s cute.”
“Its accuracy is iffy, but it’s right at least fifty percent of the time.”
“The odds don’t sound good, Art.”
He holds it to my necklace and says, “It’s all we got.”
The machine buzzes, so he moves it to another stone and presses the button again. By the time he’s done, the machine sets off five times. “So what do we think?”
“I think you shouldn’t be wearing that necklace to school, is what I think.”
My jaw drops. “It’s real?” I don’t know how to feel about this information. I’ve loved it since he gave it to me, and figured he paid good money for a solid knockoff, but what kind of money did he pay exactly?
“It’s real, alright.” He stands on the side of the desk and says, “Typically, we find fakes when the person thought it was real. Here you are with the opposite issue.” He heads for the door while I stand there in shock. “Welcome to the Astor Elementary family. I’ll see you around.”
“Yeah, see you.” I pull a mirror from my purse and hold it up to find a good angle on the necklace.
My compact is so small that I can see it—stunning as always—but I can’t get a good look.
I tuck the mirror away, wondering if I should hide the necklace in my purse somewhere.
Great. Now I feel like I need to protect it or myself.
It’s frustrating that I wore it with confidence before without concern.
Do I need to fear for my life with this around my neck?
Don’t be silly, Delaney. I can wear it as I have been, just not to school anymore.
Sitting at my desk, a different emotion sneaks in.
I had no issue taking it with me when I thought it was fake.
It’s been my favorite piece to wear day-to-day and was perfect for the two dressier events I attended with Warner.
But I don’t think I can accept this gift knowing it’s real. What to do . . .
Arriving at the building fifteen minutes before five, I open the door and head for the elevators.
I’ve only been here once before, and that didn’t turn out so well.
I’m hoping this time goes better. It should.
I’m only dropping off the necklace, and then I’m gone.
I can even leave it at reception. No, I probably shouldn’t do that.
Well, there is the infamous Jocelyn. I can leave it with her.
I ride the elevator, wondering if she’s as pretty as her name. I’m sure she is. Warner’s probably surrounded by beautiful women. Wonder if stunning and statuesque are requirements on the application, with a photo attached to submit. He probably prefers blondes as well. The opposite of me. Ugh.
The doors open, and I step into the lobby, only to be greeted by Jimmy, who stands when he sees me. “Delaney?”
“Oh,” I say, surprised to see him again. I stop just off the elevator and reply, “Jimmy. How are you?”
He shoves one hand in his pocket, rocking back on his heels, and wiggles the fingers on the other. “Good. Great. Married.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I remember.”
Snapping his fingers as if he just recalled a memory that had slipped his mind, he says, “Of course. What are you doing here?”
“I need to drop off something for Warner.”
The receptionist stands and says, “Mr. Lange, you can go on back.”
He nods toward the door and asks, “Why don’t you come with me?”
I should hesitate and think twice about walking through that door to surprise Warner like this. Instead, I reply, “I’ll be quick. I’m leaving it with his assistant.”
We start toward the entrance, and when he opens the door, he waits for me to pass in front of him. “I’m sure Warner would like to see you.”
Although I appreciate the suggestion, the thought has my tummy doing flips. “I’m not as sure about that. Me showing up in the middle of his workday—”
“End of day. I came by to drag him out for a beer.” We reach a corner of the walkway, and he stops to look at me.
It feels like a protective barrier by how he shields me from whatever lies ahead, making me regret it every time I silently curse his name for pinpointing me from that day. “You two should talk.”
“I’m not sure what’s left to say, Jimmy. He was pretty clear about how he felt.”
“Clear, but went in the wrong direction.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
He glances at a guy walking, keeping his mouth clamped closed until he passes. In a hushed voice, he says, “Warner is his own worst enemy sometimes. He might have said one thing, but he misses you.”
His persistence is persuasive, causing my heart to ache for a man who broke it, but I can’t fall into that trap.
Warner and I had so many opportunities to fix what was built on quicksand, but we didn’t.
It was always easier to ignore than go back and revisit what we had done wrong.
Ever since I left his penthouse, he’s been passing by the restaurant like he has business in the area when it’s obvious he’s just spying.
I’ve had to reckon with that in my own way.
He’s not crossed any boundaries, but his presence, even in the vicinity, makes it hard to put him behind me when he keeps popping up.
The real rub is hearing how he misses me because the way I’ve been missing him has been devastating. I’m shattered after I see him, reopening wounds that are never given time to heal properly. “I’ll think about—”
“Jimmy?” The warmth of that voice coats my insides, calming the gymnastics class currently being taught in my stomach. I would have expected the opposite.
When Jimmy shifts, I’m exposed, coming face-to-face with the man I thought I could walk away from and leave in the past. That hasn’t happened. I think about him more than I should, considering how things ended.
Warner stands outside an open office, staring at me, and reminding me of how he would stare at me when I first came home with him. I’m sure the shock of seeing me now matches the same feeling he had back then.
I didn’t expect to see him, but I knew the potential was out there.
Why does he look more handsome than I remember, especially when I thought he was already perfect?
His hair is a little longer—not by much but enough to be unruly, which is so damn sexy and has me wishing I could run my fingers through it.
Like he is now. It’s the vest he’s wearing with no jacket that I can’t get over the most. It’s almost like he sensed me coming by and pulled out all the stops. He says, “My arm’s not broken.”
He was never one for small talk. “Looks good.”
“It’s skinny compared to my other one, but I was once told I’m a little doughy.” A lopsided grin lifts his cheek.
“You were never doughy. Whoever said that lied to you.”
“Mmm.” He nods, pressing his lips together. “I suspected as much, but good to hear.”
“So,” Jimmy says with a thunderous clap, “I’m here to drag you out for a beer, but I can meet you down there.”
Warner chuckles. “Last time you came to the office like this, I never made it to the bar.”