Virtuous(31)

So I know the mother of the dog who bit you and made you bleed has no right to ask for a huge, enormous, massively inconvenient favor… However, there’s this adorable kid in my class whose mother has breast cancer. You won’t believe who her favorite movie star is…

I read the text at least a hundred times, debating, dithering and actively sweating before I close my eyes, take another deep breath, open my eyes and press send. Then I put down the phone and dive into the stack of correcting so I won’t be tempted to stare at the phone until he replies—or until he doesn’t.

Did I strike the right tone between friendly and witty and noncommittal? Did I give him an easy way out if he can’t do it? No! I didn’t. I groan and drop my head into my hands. I’m agonizing over what he must be thinking when my phone chimes with a text.

I nearly drop it on the floor in my haste to handle it with the aforementioned sweaty hands.

Three words: When and where?

“Holy crap,” I whisper. In that moment of uncertainty, I realize I hadn’t expected him to reply, which is why I’m woefully unprepared to answer his question.

I write back with hands that are now trembling as well as sweaty. Possibly tomorrow after school if you are available then? Could I let you know?

I hold my breath until he writes back. Sure, no problem. I’m available any time tomorrow.

Thank you so much for this. I’ll get back to you.

Sounds good.

I’m left with more questions than I had before, if that’s possible. If he’s available all day tomorrow and has time to text with me today, why haven’t I heard from him since Saturday? Why didn’t he say anything about getting together again during our exchange of texts? I know I didn’t dream the crackle of attraction that simmered between us during both our encounters on Saturday.

“Face the facts,” I say out loud, “when you tell a guy there’s no chance of sex without a wedding ring, he’s hardly going to be planning the second date.”

The thought deflates and disappoints me. Leah is right—I’m my own worst enemy. Though my heart is heavy in regard to my near miss with Flynn, I pick up the phone again and dial Aileen’s cell number, hoping I’m not waking or otherwise disturbing her.

“Hello?” Her voice is strong, and I’m relieved.

“Hi there, Aileen. It’s Natalie.” We’ve been on a first-name basis since parent-teacher conferences when we chatted like long-lost girlfriends, rather than a parent and teacher. Perhaps I have a ways to go in mastering the professional distance most teachers put between themselves and the parents of their students, but I genuinely like Aileen.

“Hey, Natalie. How’s it going? Is everything okay with Logan?”

“He’s doing great. And he’s always so polite.”

“I love to hear that. He knows better than to misbehave.”

“I was wondering if you’ll be home tomorrow after school. I’d like to stop by for a quick visit if that’s convenient for you. I have some new books I thought you and the kids would enjoy, and I wanted to drop them off.”

“I’d love to see you. It’s very nice of you to think of us.”

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

“Look forward to it.”

I end the call and switch over to the text screen. Tomorrow works for her. Would you mind meeting me outside my school around 3:30? I include the address and set the time for more than half an hour after school ends in the hope that most of my colleagues will be long gone by then. I can only hope.

His reply arrives less than a minute later. No problem. I’ll be there.

Thanks. See you then.

Now if someone could tell me how I’m supposed to function between now and then, I’d really appreciate it.





The next twenty-four hours feel like a week rather than a single day. I’m out of sorts, nervous, anxious, eager… In short, I’m a hot mess, and my kids take their cues from me. It’s a long, trying day for all of us. I catch a moment with Logan and tell him the plan for later. His eyes light up with a kind of unfettered glee that I’ve never seen on him before. No matter what this might be costing me personally, I’d do it again—a thousand times over—to witness his joyful response.

“Thank you so much,” he whispers.

“You’re welcome.” I squeeze his shoulder and send him to the coatroom to get his lunchbox. His smile never dims all afternoon, and his joy is contagious. By the time the bell rings, I feel like I’m going to spontaneously combust from both the excitement of surprising Aileen and from knowing I’m going to see Flynn again.