Every Wrong Reason(58)

They couldn’t possibly understand Nick’s intentions any more than they could the Canterbury Tales. And that wasn’t saying very much.

I held my phone under my desk and discreetly typed, Where?

If he said Starla’s I would use this in court against him.

His response was immediate. The Purple Pig.

Ooh, fancy. I taunted.

My treat.

I hesitated for another minute. I lifted my eyes and watched the class for a few minutes, making sure they knew I would catch them if they tried to cheat.

Finally, when I was sure everyone was doing what they were supposed to, I turned back to my phone and typed, I’ll have to go home and change first.

Two minutes ticked by before he responded. My heartbeat tripled in my chest and I wasn’t sure of what to make of my nerves. I didn’t know why my palms were suddenly sweaty or my legs so restless.

When his next text came, it was completely unexpected. I could pick you up. Followed by another one directly after it, If you wanted.

When I took a breath, it trembled in my lungs. I can drive, I told him quickly. What time?

7.

I stared at his simple reply and worried that I let him down. Then I worried about why I was so worried I let him down. Then I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide for the rest of the night.

The bell rang, followed by a collective groan from the struggling freshman still working on their test. I tried not to smile wickedly. If they had trouble with this one, just wait until I gave them the final.

Muahahaha.

Although, maybe I should incorporate some more in class review before I let them crash and burn in a couple weeks. Clearly they weren’t going to take the lead and study on their own.

God, forbid they show a little initiative.

I collected their papers as they left the room and listened to their excuses and complaints with the patience of Gandhi.

I glanced at the clock in the room and calculated traffic, a shower and some time to down a bottle of wine. Maybe two. I needed to get moving if I was going to be on time for Nick.

Did I care if I was on time?

I decided not to answer that question.

I closed up my classroom in record time, threw the tests in my bag as I locked the door and skipped checking my mailbox. Whatever was in there could wait until tomorrow.

I passed Kara in the hall, but she was already involved in a conversation with our principal, Mr. Kellar, a balding middle-age man that was so tall, he made Kara look like a dwarf. But like a hot dwarf.

I waved to both of them, ignored Kara’s penetrating curiosity and dove into the freezing December afternoon.

Scraping my windshield and waiting for my dated car to heat up had never been more irritating. But finally, I was on the road to my house.

By the time I pulled into the driveway, I was a jittery bundle of nerves and it had nothing to do with the fact that my heater hadn’t gotten remotely warm on the commute.

I kept replaying our text conversation in my head and checking my phone every two minutes. Why had I agreed to dinner with Nick? I wanted to punch him in the face for what happened during mediation.

Or at least run him over with my car.

Wait, was that better or worse than punching him?

He had been so rude to me, so hurtful.

But maybe part of me thought if we could have a civil conversation, I could talk him out of wanting the house. I could reassure him that I wasn’t pregnant and maybe that would ease his mind a little bit.

Maybe his unrealistic demands stemmed from a fear of losing a child?

His child.

Our child…

He had nothing to worry about, though. I was definitely not pregnant. And when my period had come four days after our failed mediation, I had hated him all over again.

As impossible as I knew it was, Nick’s small flicker of concern about a potential child had ignited hope in me.

For those few days, I had wondered if maybe it was a possibility… if maybe my womb wasn’t shriveled or wilted.

If maybe motherhood wasn’t an unreachable pipe dream.

But then my period had come… stronger and more uncomfortable than ever-like it was on a rampage of righteous vengeance-and it was like fate was playing some kind of sick joke on me.

See? my mind whispered. You’ll never be pregnant. You’ll never have a baby of your own.

You’ll never be a mother.

I had been furious with Nick all over again. I had written him a dozen hateful texts that never got sent. I’d even composed an email that vomited every vile thought I could think of.

But in the end I hadn’t sent it. Not because I’d changed my mind, but because I didn’t want him to feel as awful as I did. Even after everything we’d been through, even after his behavior during mediation, I couldn’t deliver that news again.

I couldn’t disappoint him again.

I assumed he’d figured it out by now.

I showered and dressed in a simple black wrap dress. It wasn’t the nicest thing I owned, but it gave me the illusion of curves and I knew he liked it.

I would be freezing in this weather and I would hate myself for wearing heels when I would have to walk at least a block from the parking garage to the restaurant. But I couldn’t not look nice tonight.

I didn’t know if it was to impress him or punish him.

And I didn’t examine my feelings long enough to figure it out.

When I walked into the trendy wine bar, the crush of people surprised me. I wasn’t expecting this kind of crowd for a Wednesday night.