I Want It That Way Page 3

  But I put him out of my mind to do the required reading for my Oral Language Development class, quickly to be followed by the first chapter in my Literacy Instruction for Students with Mild Impairments textbook. By the time I finished—I was a slow reader—it was dark and still none of the roomies were back yet. I was hungry enough to rummage in the fridge. As I got up, I remembered I hadn’t checked the mail, and my mom had mentioned a care package. Probably too soon, but she always sent Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

  Grabbing the key off the hook near the front door, I jogged downstairs to see if we had anything. As I unlocked the box, the foyer door opened, and Ty came in. He had a little boy with him, around four I guessed, with hair minted like a copper penny, and the sweetest smile I’d ever seen. It prompted one from me, which made the kid wave with his free hand. The other clutched a grubby, well-loved brown bear.

  Ty, on the other hand, barely acknowledged me. I got a chin lift and then they breezed down the hall, like last night never happened, we weren’t friends of any shade and he never wrote me a note.

  The bewildered twinge in my chest went to eleven.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Okay, whatever. I refused to play games.

  So I retrieved the mail and went back upstairs to find some dinner. My roomies didn’t come back until close to nine, and Lauren was full of talk about working in the fine arts department. She had the best gossip about one of the professors already. I listened as she gave the inside scoop. Max made mocking noises while Angus seemed more riveted than I was.

  “Shut up, I thought he was married,” he breathed.

  “He is,” Lauren said. “But that’s not even the juiciest part.”

  Max feigned enthusiasm. “OMG, like, please tell us.”

  She cut him a dirty look, then faced Angus and me. “The TA they told me he’s cheating with is a guy!”

  “That is juicy,” Angus said. “Before now, I haven’t heard even a slight whisper that he’s playing for my team.”

  Abruptly, Max pushed to his feet. “I’m going to my room.”

  I shrugged as Lauren asked with a look, Something I said? She and I had been able to stare-talk since junior high. Back then our conversations were a lot simpler, stuff like, God, so cute, look, and I know, right? It was something I’d only recently started trying to do with Angus, though I wasn’t sure how much of my meaningful glances he could interpret. Sometimes I imagined his thoughts went like this: Nadia sure stares at me a lot. She’s a nut.

  For an hour or so, Angus and I played video games while Lauren paged through a magazine. Eventually the other two turned in, leaving me to decide if I was going out on the balcony. I put on the kettle, debating the issue with more ambivalence than the issue demanded. Impatient, I steeped the herbal tea, added natural sweetener and stepped outside.

  It was a clear, beautiful evening, tons of stars twinkling overhead. The air was cool and fresh, and in two months or so, the weather wouldn’t permit me to sit out here, anyway. I relaxed into my chair, making a mental note to tell Max how much I appreciated it. Closing my eyes, I listened to the rustle of squirrels in trees nearby and the symphony of insects singing to the night.

  A bit later, I heard the unmistakable sound of Ty’s patio door scraping open, so I took that as my cue to vacate. Even if he wanted to talk, I wasn’t in the mood, after the cold shoulder earlier. So I slipped inside and took a quiet shower, tiptoeing so I didn’t bother Lauren.

  Between work, school and the new practicum, the week went fast, though I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t lost a certain spark. Yet in getting ready, I still took great care; in honor of my first hands-on classroom experience, I wore a tailored navy skirt, white blouse and sensible shoes. Does this look okay? Nervous, I hurried out.

  I loved C-Cool from the moment I pulled into the parking lot. The school was tan brick, built in the ’60s. C-Cool was a sprawling, single-level structure that went around in a giant, rectangular loop. There were hallways branching off, but the main one ended up where it began, if you just kept following it and making right turns.

  A glance into the classrooms said I might be overdressed. Mental note: nice pants and shirt would be fine for next time.

  Eventually, I found my assigned room and teacher. My palms felt sweaty as I stepped in. A blonde woman turned, the dainty sort who made me feel like mooing as I stomped around, breaking china and generally trashing the place. But her bright smile diffused any awkwardness.

  “You must be Nadia. I’m Madeline Parker.” She was wearing jeans and a sweater, so I felt even more like a dork.

  Did you think this was a job interview? Sigh.

  Trying to be sly, I wiped my palm on my skirt then shook her hand. A glint of humor in her hazel eyes told me she was onto me, but she wasn’t judging.

  “Nice to meet you,” I murmured.

  “The pleasure is mine, believe me.” She looked to be in her thirties, not so old as to be intimidating or perma-settled into cranky ways. “Some of my colleagues find this professional obligation annoying, but I can use your help. This is the tail end of my free period, so we can go over some things before wading in. You want to sit down?”

  “Sure.” I took a seat near her desk, ready to listen.

  What she dropped on me was pretty stunning. “I work in the classroom as a co-teacher for social studies, English, science, math, though I teach the at-risk and special-ed students for math by myself, as I’m certified 4-8. Then I have a thirty-minute study hall where I help with homework as set up by the administration. This is a normal workload, though at the same time, I’m supposed to be teaching remedial English skills, study habits, behavior modification for discipline-issued students, as well as offer social instruction for those on the autism spectrum.”

  “Wow,” I said.

  “The most important thing for you to realize is that burnout is high among special-ed teachers. I love my work, don’t get me wrong, but don’t forget to take care of yourself, okay?”

  I thought of my Sleepytime tea ritual and nodded. “I won’t. Thanks.”

  “Now that we’ve had our serious talk, I’ll show you how rewarding this can be. Ready?”

  A couple hours later, when I left the practicum, I was exhausted, and I understood what Ms. Parker meant. Though I didn’t doubt my commitment to teaching, maybe I didn’t have the tolerance or fortitude to work with special-needs students. There was such a diverse array of challenges, and I felt exhausted just trying to help my mentor address them. It seemed like every time I turned around, there was someone standing behind her, saying her name on repeat, having forgotten instructions or wanting an exception to the rule. Her patience was astonishing.

  That night, I ate ramen for dinner and went to bed early. I didn’t talk to my roomies or sit on the balcony. Thursday was a cipher of a day, but by evening, I shook off the bad mood and watched a movie with Angus and Lauren. Unsurprisingly, Max had a date, and it was two in the morning when he came in. I was still awake, though I didn’t want to be. Apparently, Sleepytime tea at the kitchen table wasn’t the same as drinking it by moonlight.

  Max seemed surprised to see me when he shut the door. “Wild night, huh?”

  “You know it. Nothing says party like an herbal-tea party.”

  “I’m worried about you, Conrad. You’re out of control.” His smirk prompted me to give him the finger.

  “You wish.” He sauntered past me, grabbed a bottle of water then said, “Don’t stay up too late.”

  Since I was awake, anyway, I did some reading and started on a project that was due in two weeks. I got four hours of sleep, max, before I had to head to my first class. On Friday afternoon, I was surprised when the director pulled me off kitchen duty, where I was helping Louisa put together snack plates. Quickly, I washed my hands and followed her, confused, to the front of the center.

  “I don’t know how this happened,” Mrs. Keller was saying, “but I double-booked myself. I’m meeting with a vendor about new equipment bu
t I’ve also got a prospective parent wanting a tour. Can you handle it?”

  “Sure, just introduce me.”

  But then I saw him. Ty stood near the front door in a pool of sunlight, holding a little boy’s hand. The pair of them were just adorably ginger, and a smile beamed out of me before I could school my expression to something less Wow, I’m so glad to see you, more suited to a day-care center tour. Mrs. Keller was talking, making us known to each other. Though I could’ve said it was unnecessary, I didn’t.

  “So I’ll leave you in Nadia’s capable hands, all right? If you have questions she can’t answer, I’ll be available in half an hour or so.”

  “Understood. Thank you.” His voice was always quiet and grave then, not just when dealing with random girls.

  I had seen enough of Mrs. Keller’s routine to know that I wasn’t supposed to focus on the parents in this scenario, so I squatted down to eye level with mini-Ty and offered a warm smile. “We haven’t met. I’m Nadia. I’ll be showing you around today. Is that okay?”

  He thought about it and then nodded without looking at his dad. That told me he was a confident kid. The bear was conspicuously absent, so he must be in big-boy mode.

  “My name is Sam.” He offered a small hand for a very grown-up shake, and it was all I could do not to hug him. Then he volunteered, “I have to go to school now. My auntie can’t watch me anymore.”

  That must be the gray-haired lady who said it was her last day.

  “I’m sorry to hear that” seemed like the safest response.

  “But I get to play with other kids more.” That sounded like he was quoting his dad’s assessment of the bright side in this change to their routine.

  “Very true. Once you’ve seen everything, I’ll ask Mrs. Trent if you can play in her class for a little while.”

  Sam tipped his head back this time, asking permission with big brown eyes.

  Ty nodded. “Sounds great.”

  While I gave the company pitch, I was conscious of unspoken things between us, unfinished business, and it didn’t help having Ty right at my shoulder as we peered in the classroom windows while I talked about each teacher. Sam went to the door and stared through the glass. He didn’t seem alarmed over the idea of switching from babysitter to day care, and it was probably time. Pre-K would help him get ready for kindergarten next year.

  Eventually, we came to the end of the tour and I offered my hand to Sam. He took it without hesitation, and I glanced at his dad, who seemed more nervous about the whole thing. Taking his silence for assent, I tapped on Mrs. Trent’s door. We had two pre-K teachers, but Mrs. T had spaces available.

  “Sam is a prospective student. Would it be all right if he participated for a bit?”

  “Absolutely. We’re just about to have circle time. Sam, you can have this carpet square.” She gave him blue shag to sit on, and I beckoned to Ty.

  “It’s best to leave while he’s busy. We won’t be gone long.” I took him to the break room, which was near the kitchen. It had been only fifteen minutes, so Mrs. Keller wouldn’t be done with her supply meeting yet. “Would you like coffee or tea?”

  “Coffee would be great.” As ever, he looked tired, though not rumpled. The weariness seemed to be a perpetual state with him.

  “What questions do you have?” As part of the tour, I’d gone over hours, safety record and curriculum, but I hadn’t covered the fees. I hated talking money with the parents. Some of them made me mad, acting like their kids weren’t worth the cost of decent care.

  While he thought about it, I poured the coffee into a white mug and offered him cream and sugar. “No thanks, black is fine.” His golden-brown eyes held mine for a few seconds. “I guess the only question I have at this point is...where’ve you been all week?”

  I could’ve made up an excuse. I could’ve lied.

  “Avoiding you,” I said honestly.

  “Why?”

  “I may not be the best neighbor, but I haven’t done anything to deserve that snub, and I’m not interested in friends who only acknowledge me part of the time.”

  “Friends.” He repeated the word in an odd tone, like it was a word from a foreign language that he’d heard once but couldn’t place.

  “What did you think we were?”

  A confused laugh huffed out of him. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  I studied his face and he truly seemed apologetic. His hot-and-cold game was puzzling, but I didn’t think he meant to be difficult. “Just...explain and we’re cool.”

  “It was a knee-jerk reaction. Sam hadn’t met you, and in the car, he was saying he had to go to the bathroom for ten minutes. I didn’t want him to pee at your feet as a first impression.”

  From the tension in his shoulders, it was more complicated than that, but I didn’t demand more. I’d worked at the day care long enough to know that public urination was the least of the problems that could crop up, dealing with a kid Sam’s age. So he was most likely telling the truth about that, if not about why he’d acted like we didn’t know each other at all.

  “He’s cute,” I said, giving him a get out of jail free card.

  “I think so.” His smile became 50 percent more natural. He downed half his coffee in a single gulp, giving the sense it was his life support, necessary for survival.

  “You must’ve been young when you had him.” Okay, so now I was totally digging. It was possible that Sam was his little brother, but I didn’t think so.

  “Twenty when he was born.”

  Yikes. Younger than me. I couldn’t imagine being a parent at my age. It was such a vast relief to leave Rainbow Academy once people reclaimed their offspring. When I went home, there was nobody relying on me for safety, comfort, wisdom, food or shelter. But for the past four years, Ty had been all of those things to Sam. Which meant he was twenty-four or so.

  So out of your league. With a mental sigh, I added him to the list of delicious guys who were out of my reach, mostly celebrities. Damn. No prospective parent had ever tempted me during a tour. Usually, the fact that the guy had a kid was enough to put me off, but something about Ty... My gaze dropped to his artistic hands curled around his coffee mug. For a few seconds, I watched his fingertips play around the rim. My lips tingled.

  Stop that.

  “You’ve done a great job with Sam,” I managed to say.

  “Thanks.”

  “Will your partner want a tour before you decide if Rainbow Academy’s the right fit?” Somehow the question came out casual and professional when I was dying to know about Sam’s mom, mostly as pertained to Ty’s relationship status.

  “No, I’m making the decision on my own.”

  Single dad, check. I bet that’s a story. I wondered if Sam’s mom was out of the picture entirely, and if so, why? Did she leave or...die? Sad, either way. I quelled my curiosity.

  “Will our hours work for you? We’re only open until six.”

  “Not a problem. My parents look after him during my night classes.”

  He works during the day, takes classes in the evenings. When exactly does he sleep? Well, that explained the constant exhaustion.

  Ty must’ve seen something in my face that he took for disapproval because he snapped, “I always spend Sundays with Sam. Always.”

  I raised a brow. “I heard you reading Goodnight Moon. And I saw the way that kid looks at you. I have no doubt you’re an amazing dad.”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw and he closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if I’d stroked him in an unspeakably intimate place. My fingers curled against the urge to touch him, brush the bright hair away from his brow or test the gold bristles on his jaw. A rush of longing hammered at my composure, a visceral attraction unlike any I’d ever known. He rubbed his palm over his mouth, and I could’ve sworn he whispered something like, Make it stop, I don’t have time for this right now, but it was more of a breath or a sigh, and it could’ve been my imagination.

  To cover my confusion, I checked my watch. �
�Why don’t you touch base with Mrs. Keller? She should be ready. I’ll get Sam, wash him off if necessary and bring him to the front.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Nadia.”

  God, I had no idea what it was about him, but every time he said my name, it went through me like gasping, shivering sex. And the thanks hit me just about as hard because I had the feeling he didn’t say it often.

  Blushing, I whirled to do as I’d suggested. Circle time was wrapping up when I got to Mrs. Trent’s class. Sam was clapping along with the other kids, then he followed instructions politely, piling his rug on top of the others. He spotted me and lit up, as if we were old friends. His openness spoke volumes about his sunny nature. I imagined he was a lively kid, full of energy and boundless curiosity.

  “Do I have to go?” he asked, his chin drooping when I opened the door.

  “I’m sorry, yeah. Your dad’s waiting for you. But once he fills out the papers, you can come to school with the other kids.”

  “Like Daddy goes to work.”

  “Exactly like that. And your job will be learning.”

  He nodded at me firmly. “It’s a deal.”

  My heart quivered at how seriously he was taking this. He put his hand in mine, trustingly, and I led him to the front office, where Ty was already filling out forms. Rather than bother them, I sat down with Sam and we built an awesome block tower in the play area nearby. By the time we finished, they were wrapping up, and Ty came out with his paperwork. From experience, I knew we needed certain medical records and proof of vaccinations, but he could email that stuff later.

  “Congratulations,” Mrs. Keller told Sam. “You’re our newest student.”

  He grinned at her. “My job is learning.”

  “I like your style.” She offered Sam a low five, and he nailed it.

  I was itchy, unsure if I should walk them out or go back to the kitchen, and Mrs. K didn’t help by dashing off to answer her cell phone, buzz-ringing away on her desk. For a few seconds, I fidgeted. Pushed out a nervous breath. And that was stupid because I was the one who said we were friends. Friends didn’t make me feel like this, but I couldn’t admit that to Ty.