Chapter 35

Lucy

Rain pelts the windows, relentless and unyielding. The kids are practically vibrating with pent-up energy, their usual outdoor hour stolen by the storm that blew through earlier this afternoon. I glance at the clock, the minute hand inching toward freedom. "Come on, everyone, let's tidy up," I tell them. "It's almost time to go."

Bibi, always the whirlwind, darts around with scissors in hand, a snowfall of paper scraps trailing behind him. I'm about to remind him of the dangers of running with scissors when Kateryna's voice cuts through the chaos.

"Miss Sheridan! Dr. Chance is here!"

Every child rushes to the window, noses smudging the glass, eyes wide with curiosity. Indeed, Chance is in the parking lot. As we watch, he runs toward the building, protectively holding a big box against the downpour.

Mina, ever the optimist, claps her hands together. "It must be a puppy!"

I wince internally, praying she's wrong.

A few minutes later, a knock reverberates against the door, silencing the room for a heartbeat. Bibi sprints, almost tripping over his own feet, and flings the door open. Chance strides in, all smiles and calm. He places the mysterious box on my desk and produces a freezer bag from behind his back.

"Good afternoon, Lucy," he says, and I've barely had a chance to respond before he turns toward the class. "Have you all been good for Miss Sheridan?" he asks, brow arched.

A chorus of yeses fills the room, only to be interrupted by Anna's candid voice. "Nasrin hasn't."

I prepare myself for a frown or a stern look, but Chance merely smiles. "Tomorrow will be a better day," he tells the boy, and my heart swells a little as Nasrin smiles.

"If it's okay with Miss Sheridan, I have a treat for each of you to take home."

He looks over at me for approval, and my head is nodding before I've truly processed his words.

"Who wants ice cream?" he asks next, his voice becoming the catalyst for a small earthquake.

Twenty-five feet begin to stomp, and hands clap in joyous anticipation. Their energy now explodes into cheers and squeals. "Me! Me!" they chorus.

He reaches into the freezer bag and, one by one, distributes the frozen treats. I watch as Anna hangs back, a quiet observer amidst the frenzy. Chance notices too. He sidesteps over to her, producing a popsicle from another compartment in the bag. "I remember milk doesn't agree with you, so I brought you this," he says.

And Anna looks at him like he's just offered her a star from the sky.

"You need to eat those outside," Chance instructs, pointing out the spoons tucked under each lid. "So wait just a moment until the end of the day."

They scramble into rain gear and gather their things, and then as the final bell rings, the children dash out the door, shouting thank yous as they go.

I can only shake my head. "Thank you," I say once the room has emptied. "This was the perfect day for a treat. The kids adore you."

"They're important to you," he replies, his gaze steady, "which makes them important to me." He points to the box on my desk. "That's for you, and there are three more boxes in my car."

I lift the flaps and peek inside to find rows upon rows of vibrant markers and pencils. "What's all this for?"

"You mentioned working extra hours at Barney's to afford school supplies," he says. "I thought this might help, as I know your time is precious. Feel free to share with the other teachers too."

The gesture leaves me momentarily speechless. It's not just the gift itself, but the thought behind it—the understanding of what matters to me—that touches something deep within. This man sees me, really sees me. And in this moment, the rain outside seems inconsequential compared to the storm of emotions brewing within me.

He waits patiently as I organize for a moment and prepare a spot in the classroom for the supplies. By the time we step outside, the rain has dwindled to a mist. Chance leads the way to his car, parked under the drooping branches of a willow tree. As he pops the trunk open, there's a chorus of giggles behind us. I turn to find Kayla, her cheeks smeared with chocolate ice cream.

"Ms. Sheridan," she lisps, "is Dr. Chance your boyfriend?"

A blush creeps up my neck. "No, sweetie, we're just friends," I assure her, but my voice is less convincing than I want it to be.

Chance winks at Kayla. "What do you think? Should I be Miss Sheridan's boyfriend?" he asks, and suddenly the air is filled with the high-pitched endorsements of fifth graders.

I shake my head with a half-hearted attempt at disapproval. "You don't play fair," I grumble as we move back toward my classroom, our arms laden with boxes.

"Never have." He chuckles, and the sound sends a warm shiver down my spine.

Back inside, I peel back the tape on each box, revealing stacks of crayons, glue sticks, and construction paper. My hands hover over the supplies, feeling the weight of his kindness. It's almost too much.

"Chance, this… I can't even begin to thank you," I stumble over the words, overwhelmed.

"Sure you can," he replies, standing close enough that I can smell the faint scent of his aftershave. "Go out to dinner with me."

I bite my lip, looking up at him. "Okay, but only if I'm buying."

He shakes his head, his expression serious now. "That's what a friend would do. And the answer is no, because I don't just want to be your friend." His voice drops lower. "I want more. I want it all. I understand your concerns, and I appreciate what you said yesterday at the coffee shop, as it gave me a lot to think about. But it's not true. May I explain?"

I huff and cross my arms, but I'm not feeling as resolved as I was when we picked up my car. He's been so kind. The least I can do is hear him out. So I sit behind my desk with a nod, and he sits on top of a student desk in the first row.

He tells me that he's considered carefully whether his mother's maxim applied to his personal life, and then he goes on to explain the soul-searching he did as things fell apart with Céline. In a way, he did leave her because he wanted something better, but he wanted it for himself and for her. He wanted a chance to grow and change, and they were never going to be able to do that together.

"You should never fear that I'll cast you aside because I've found something new and bright and shiny and better," he concludes. "Because you're the one whose shown me what's truly possible in a relationship—support, partnership, care." He holds my eyes a moment. "I want to provide that for you as well. We'll grow together, make each other stronger, find joy. You deserve all that you give to others, that you give to me. And there's nothing that could be better than that."

The world tilts slightly on its axis, and for a moment, I'm adrift in the possibility of it all. Then I nod because how could I not?

My pulse flutters, each beat a silent echo of Chance's confession. No one has ever been so direct, so boldly affectionate toward me. Suddenly, I want to lean into this feeling, to believe it can actually hold me up. "Let's get these put away," I murmur, rising from my desk.

Chance nods, letting me take the lead, and together, we organize the supplies into neat rows on shelves and in drawers. His presence is both soothing and an accelerant, and I'm acutely aware of every moment his hand brushes mine.

"Thank you," I say once the last marker finds its home. "For everything."

"Anything for you," he replies with a smile.

I gather my things and lock up the classroom, and we walk out into the afternoon. He follows me to my apartment, where we leave behind cars for the freedom of our feet.

"Too early for dinner?" I ask as we stand on the sidewalk.

"Maybe a bit, but it's the perfect time for a stroll," he counters, gesturing toward False Creek.

We set off, and walking beside Chance feels almost immediately natural. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of rain-washed streets and distant ocean brine.

"I've missed this," Chance confesses as we stop to watch a boat drift by. "Missed you."

"Me?" I can feel the color rise in my cheeks at his admission.

"Lucy, I was raised in a world of discipline and high expectations. Always looking, reaching for more." He hesitates, then looks at me, his gaze steady. "Like I said before, with you, I don't want more. You're the best thing that's happened to me, and I'll wait until you're ready. However long you need."

His words offer shelter, safety, a lighthouse guiding me home. Yet they also spark a flame within me. I'm always careful, but I'm not fragile. And I realize in this moment, as the city buzzes around us and the water laps at the concrete shore, that I am ready to stop waiting.

"Chance," I begin, turning to face him fully. "You don't have to wait."

His face breaks into a smile. "Will you come back to my place tonight?"

I smile coyly. "I wouldn't want to be too loud for Ginny."

He grins. "I don't think she can hear once she takes out her hearing aids."

I nod. "Okay then."

"Let's go back to your place, and maybe you can pack a bag—although you won't need clothes."

"Really? Why not?" I tease.

"Because I have every intention of keeping you sated and naked all weekend."

I cross my arms and tap a finger against my chin. "Hmmm…"

He leans in and licks from my collarbone to my ear. "Let's go before they call the police for indecent exposure."

I laugh. "Only if you promise—"

His searing kiss stops me. He pulls me in tight, and I can feel his hardness against my hip. "Whatever you want," he breathes. "As long as it's with me."