The Trouble With Quarterbacks(83)

I continue walking toward my subway stop then turn my head to see him trailing a few feet behind me. I stop. He stops. I take a step forward. He takes a step forward. I lift my right hand to wave it in the air. His right hand stays by his side. Right, well then.

“Come on. If you’ll be walking with me, there’s no sense in trailing me like a shadow. I’d rather chat anyway. I get quite bored on these walks.”

He nods and picks up his pace until he’s right beside me.

“Have you got a girlfriend?” I ask, because at heart, I am incredibly nosey. I want to know everything about everyone.

“Wife,” he says, all business.

“And what’s she called?”

“Bianca.”

“Can I see a photo?”

He tugs out his wallet again and flashes me a small photo of him and her, along with a little baby girl. It’s so sweet that he carries the image around like that, especially when everyone’s got their mobiles these days.

“Is that your daughter?” I ask, pointing to the baby.

“Yes. That’s Hope.”

“She’s lovely. So cute. She takes after your wife, I think.”

“Absolutely. They could be twins.”

We carry on like that, chatting and getting to know each other better until we reach my subway stop. It’s there that I spot the first photographer. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out a few of them had been trailing me since I left my flat, but this is the first one to try to get in my face.

“Candace! How are you feeling?!” he shouts. “Is it true that you needed brain surgery when you were in the hospital?”

He barely gets the words out before Ryan steps up to him and stretches out his arms, blocking me from view.

“Back up. Farther. Give her space.”

The photographer nearly pees his trousers when he gets a load of Ryan. This is brilliant! I can already tell I’m going to abuse my power. Maybe I could use Ryan to cut the queue at my favorite coffee shop. I’ll have him march in and terrorize everyone waiting in front of me so they all scream and run out, leaving me at the front. Voilà.

After my doctor’s appointment, I text Logan.

CANDACE: Not that it’s any of your business, but everything is healing up nicely. They think I can get my stitches out on Friday. Oh wait…what am I telling you for? They’ve probably already phoned to tell you the news!





LOGAN: I’m glad. Are you back at work already?





CANDACE: Tomorrow.





LOGAN: You aren’t working at District, are you?





I’m not. I’ve called in for the whole week, but I don’t feel like telling him that.

CANDACE: I don’t think that’s your business.





He phones me then! My mobile starts ringing and I shove it into my purse.

Then Ryan’s mobile goes off and he, of course, answers it.

“Hello—yes—I’ll tell her—yes—of course.”

Then he hangs up.

“Well?! What’s he said?” I demand.

“He doesn’t think you should be waitressing anymore, but if you insist on it, a member of my team should be there with you the whole time.”

Oh good grief!

I throw up my hands and walk on. “Let’s go, you. Where should we eat lunch? Do you like sandwiches?”

He seems extremely confused, like I’ve just asked him to do the worm down the middle of the sidewalk. “I don’t usually eat on the job.”

“Right, well, you will with me. I’m not going to have you watching me chew my crisps like a weirdo.”

“Okay then, there’s a good place around the corner.”

I motion for him to lead the way.





Thursday is my first day back at school since last Friday, and the kids must have decorated the room yesterday so I’d see it all when I arrived. There’re big letters that say “Get Well Soon, Ms. Candace!” and loads of streamers. They’ve even tidied it up (I’m sure with the help of the temp), and it’s a really lovely way to start the day.

When they start to arrive, each of them rushes to give me a hug and asks me how I’m feeling. I don’t have the bandage on my head anymore, which is quite a relief as it was getting a bit itchy under there. I’ve still got my hand wrapped up to protect the stitches, but they all think it’s quite cool and I even let them decorate on it so it ends up a colorful mess by the time they’re set to leave for the afternoon.

I start to gather their things and load them up with their lunch sacks. One by one, they leave, until Briggs is the only one left.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Candace. My uncle didn’t forget about me,” he says with a huge smile. “He said he’d be a little late for pick-up today.”

“Oh, did he?”

All day, I’ve told myself I wasn’t excited to see Logan, but it’s no use. I didn’t slip out to the loo and freshen up my makeup during naptime just for the fun of it. I am eagerly anticipating his arrival at my door, so much so that I’m a nervous wreck.

I tidy up the pillows in the reading corner. Then, suddenly, I hate how they’re arranged and decide to completely redo them. That’ll do…for now. Next, I rewash the brushes in the sink that we used during art class. It takes quite a long time using only the one hand.