One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(18)

He sighed. “See…that is where you’re wrong, Ms. Burton. Kensington Palisades has a reputation to uphold as the premiere private school in the area, and…well…it seems you’ve gained yourself your own reputation this weekend.”

Horror latched onto my chest, and he just continued on, “I fielded calls all weekend from concerned parents…worried about what kind of influence you are on their kindergartners. I’m sorry, but that is not the type of concern we as a school can shoulder nor overlook.”

“What are you saying?” The words spilled out. Harsh and desperate.

“I’m saying we are going to have to let you go.”

Devastation bottled in my chest, and I struggled for a breath. “But my kids,” I pled.

“Are no longer your concern. We’ve called in a substitute until we can find a permanent replacement.”

I blinked. Dazed. “Sir.”

I could feel him shaking his head. His voice softened. “I’m sorry, Kaylee. I am. I like you, and you’re a good teacher. But my bottom line is this school and its well-being. You know as well as I do how difficult these parents are to please. And with something as public as this…” he trailed off, letting the rest hang in the air.

I nodded my head.

I wasn’t sure it was in acceptance, because really, I couldn’t process anything.

Nothing but this nagging regret.

A quiet devastation.

“Kirk will show you to your office so you can gather your things and escort you out.”

Disoriented, I nodded again, stumbled to my feet. My eyes moved to the security guard already waiting at the door.

Oh. God.

A wave of sadness hit me.

How could this be happening? My entire life, the only thing I’d ever wanted to be was a teacher, and I’d destroyed that dream with one reckless mistake.

Humiliated, I studied my feet. The pile of the carpet. The tiny fleck of paper. Anything but the pity on the old man’s face who I considered my friend. I shuffled his way.

“Let’s get your things, Ms. Burton,” he said so quietly I could barely hear, though there was no missing the sympathy that was woven into it.

“Okay.”

Kirk set a box on my desk, and I loaded it with the few things that actually belonged to me. A picture of me with my family, a few drawings the kids had done for me, my planner.

“All done,” I said, offering Kirk a feeble smile that was so entirely forced I was fairly certain my face might crack with the strain of it.

That was when another rush of sadness came swooping in.

Binding to my heart.

I followed him out into the hall where children were beginning to arrive. I could feel the burn of the parents’ stares, those who had shunned and shamed me because of one night.

I tried to ignore the snickers and hushed conversations that weren’t so hushed that I couldn’t hear.

Slut.

Gold digger.

Tramp.

Seriously, was this 1972?

Kirk led me all the way out to my car. “Take care of yourself now, Kaylee Rose. Don’t let none of this get to you. You’re a good girl. All of us smart ones know it, too. It’ll all work out. Just wait. But I’m sure gonna miss you ’round here.”

I wished he were right.

That Elle had been right.

That it’d just blow over.

Forgotten in days.

But they were so utterly wrong.

I slumped down in my car and started the engine, quick to leave the lot because I couldn’t stand the stares for a second more. I drove the twenty minutes to my condo.

Halfway home, I had to send yet another call from my mother to voicemail.

Then I turned around and tortured myself with her message.

Tears streaked down my face as I listened to her words.

Kaylee Rose, call me, baby girl. Your face is all over the place and all the neighbors are calling, asking questions, looking for something else to add to the gossip. I need to know that you’re okay. I’m all the way across the country, and I don’t know if you’re okay. Please call me.

I deleted her message, whispered into my car, “No, Mama, I’m not okay.”

Because one wild night had turned into my worst nightmare.

Of course, that nightmare only got worse when I pulled up to my townhouse.

Paparazzi.

Everywhere.

Emotion knotted up everywhere. Embarrassment. Sadness. And anger.

Anger.

Suddenly, there was a whole lot of that.

How dare they take my picture without my knowing? How dare these parents take the most important thing away from me—their children? My job and my future and my career.

My joy.

How dare Paxton Myles chase me all night until I succumbed to his charms?

How dare HE?!

Somewhere deep inside I knew it was just as much my fault as it was his. I’d made the choice, and God, it’d been just about the best night I’d ever had.

But was it worth the price?

Regret pressed at my chest.

Not even close.

I ducked my head, praying the photographers would just let me be, and pulled into my spot. I didn’t sit and wait or catch my breath.

I bolted out of the door with my key in my hand, ran across the parking lot, and fumbled to shove the key into the lock.

At the same second, I was surrounded. Lights flashed and questions fired. A barrage of voices pummeled me left and right.