Chapter 12

TWELVE

“ B ye, Ms. Zola! Thanks for the sticker!”

“Bye, hon. Have a good weekend.”

I waved to my last student, a round little guy named Aiden, who had a sweet tendency to return to the classroom at least three times every day for things he forgot. Some days, like today, I was able to round up the items and leave them on my desk. If he got them all in one go, I gave him a sticker. Today’s featured Snoopy.

I waited for the door to my classroom to close completely so I could slump behind my desk like a deflating balloon. The first week back after vacation was always difficult, but this one had been harder than most. I felt like I’d been through a tornado, with a headache that was pounding like hailstones.

Maybe it was because the holidays hadn’t really been a vacation at all. Two weeks of checking my phone while pretending to my family that Sofia’s father hadn’t stormed back into my life like a rain cloud, threatened legal action, and been completely silent since—yeah, not so relaxing. I couldn’t even remember what I’d gotten for Christmas.

The only one who knew anything was Kate, who still texted at least five times daily, telling me to clue Matthew in.

“You’re being an idiot,” she had told me three days ago, when we were walking back to Nonna’s from New Year’s Mass. “Our brother is a lawyer. And right now, he’s an unemployed lawyer and part-time bartender, which means he has more time than ever to save your ass.”

“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t always want Mattie—or any of you—to save me?” I countered stubbornly, kicking aside an ice-covered rock. “Other people shouldn’t have to clean up my messes.”

“It’s not a mess, Frankie. It’s your life. And we’re not just people. We’re family.”

I huffed and focused on Sofia, who was skipping ahead with her cousins, Matthew a shadow just beyond them. “Well, I can’t tell him now. He’s leaving for Italy tomorrow.”

Matthew had informed the family at Christmas that he’d gotten a job as an interpreter for a few weeks in January. A bit more prodding at home revealed it was for her —one Nina de Vries, of whom I’d heard exactly nothing since the Christmas party almost a month earlier. None of my sisters made a secret of the fact that they thought she was nothing but trouble, but his face when he told us said otherwise.

“You haven’t been living with his glum mug since he got put on leave,” I added. “Maybe we don’t approve of her, but he’s been looking forward to this trip for a month. It’s the first time in months he hasn’t started drinking before noon. And he’s stopped chain-smoking too.”

Kate had just grumbled something about a blonde bimbo and too much wine but had the sense not to argue. We both knew Matthew needed a change of pace. Whatever was going to happen with Xavier would have to wait another few weeks.

A knock on the door of my classroom pulled me out of my thoughts.

“You look like you need a drink.”

Adam Klein, the art teacher, stood casually in my doorway, one thumb hooked onto a belt loop of his slightly too-skinny jeans, the other braced against the frame.

“Oh, hey,” I said, summoning a bit more energy to be civil, despite just wanting to take a quick nap before picking up Sofia. “Just a little tired, I suppose.”

“A few of us are going to Dave and Buster’s for happy hour…”

I scowled. Dave and Buster’s really didn’t seem like a great antidote for a headache.

“But,” he pivoted, “I happen to know a fantastic place that does killer margaritas a few blocks north. What do you say?”

“I mean, I need to?—”

“I know you don’t pick up your kid until five on Fridays, Frankie,” Adam cut in with a toothy grin.

I frowned. “How did you know that?”

He shrugged. “Heard you tell Jenna at lunch a few days ago.”

I breathed a little easier. It was too easy living with my brother to get suspicious about every little thing.

“Right, yeah. I usually give myself an hour on Fridays.”

“Sounds good.”

Adam sauntered into the classroom, grabbed one of the extra chairs sitting next to my desk, then flipped it around so he could sit on it backward, exuding that easy confidence of a man who knew he was good-looking, at least in his immediate milieu.

Once again, I wondered if I should consider taking him up on one of his offers. I happened to know at least three teachers who had already made it their life’s goal to bang him before the year’s end. I always figured that when you’re surrounded by mostly other exhausted women and tiny children for the majority of the day, you’ll take just about anything. But maybe I was wrong.

I looked at him again, trying to see what the others did. Most male teachers I knew were attractive in that mussed, homey sort of way academics and graduate students have about them. Sort of like a worn-in couch. Not exactly stylish or sexy, but not altogether an unwelcome place to be.

Adam definitely fell into that category. Average height, floppy brown hair, tortoise-shell glasses, and friendly brown eyes. His legs did fill out his jeans nicely, even if they were stained with paint. His smile was bright and non-threatening. Patient, despite the fact that he was the definition of persistent.

“So tell me,” he said. “How are you doing these days? I feel like we barely get to talk.”

I tried not to point out that I didn’t really talk to anyone. It was hard to be close to your coworkers when you were leaving as soon as possible every day to avoid daycare overage fees. Twenty dollars a minute was no joke.

I shrugged. “I have a kid.” And a baby daddy. And maybe a pending lawsuit . “I’m busy.”

Adam clicked his tongue knowingly. “I get that. Your daughter—what’s her name again?”

“Sofia.”

“Right, right. And she’s how old?”

“Four.” I busied myself with rearranging my pencils. Where was this conversation going?

“Frankie.”

I looked up. “Yeah?”

Adam’s eyes were wide and guileless. Bright. Light. “I’m kind of fumbling this, but it can’t be that surprising that I’m kind of into you. Have been for a while now.”

I blinked. It wasn’t. I knew it. But I also wasn’t used to anyone being that direct.

“Like, since you started teaching here,” Adam rattled on, apparently unaware of my sudden discomfort. “You always seem too busy with your kid and everything, but I figured why not, you know? No one can be a nun forever. And no time like the present. So, maybe we can get a drink or something. Nothing major. Just a drink.”

I still didn’t say anything. I wasn’t sure how to respond to any of this. Honestly, I’d never even thought about Adam like this.

Maybe because he isn’t blue-eyed, British, and out for blood? Kate’s voice rang loud and clear.

I smarted. What did she know?

Adam didn’t seem to notice my internal dialogue. “Come on. You look like you need a break from this place. I’ll walk you out.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just stood up and tucked the chair back under the desk. The rest of the room was pretty much in order, so I grabbed my messenger bag, pulled on my parka, and followed him out.

He chattered as we walked through the halls, waving to the remaining teachers we passed, commenting on the occasional student’s artwork, until we had crossed the playground and left school grounds. I offered the occasional “sure” and “yeah,” but just like every day of the past month or so, I could barely focus.

I turned in the direction of Sofia’s school with every intention of stopping for a cup of tea and some quality time with the newest romance on my Kindle before picking her up. But before I could, Adam threw a casual arm around my shoulder and grinned down at me.

“So, what do you say?” he asked. “Sound good?”

I blinked. I was horrible. So rude, and to someone who had been nothing but nice to me for years.

“I’m so sorry,” I replied, straining a little under the weight of his arm. “I totally spaced out there. Does what sound good?”

Adam just tipped his head good-naturedly. “Margaritas?”

I was going to say no. I was going to say I didn’t even like margaritas that much. That I didn’t like being touched without my consent, or that it was kind of inappropriate for him to be doing this to a coworker on school property. I was going to say a lot of things, namely that I had no interest in happy hour with Adam Klein now or ever.

But before any of those things could be said, I caught sight of a shadow hovering underneath a barren maple on the corner.

Xavier Parker stood wrapped in a black overcoat, hands shoved deep into his pockets, stone-still despite the chilly breeze floating off the nearby East River. His dark hair was combed back, waving softly in the wind, but that gentleness was erased by the way his dark blue eyes, with the precision of a dagger, were trained not on me, but on Adam.

I should have been terrified. It had been a month. I had taken him at his word that he was as successful as he seemed—if only because I was too scared to learn exactly how powerful Xavier really was. How easily he could ruin my life.

So yes, there was unfinished business between us, not to mention a threat he had yet to make good on. And now that business that needed to be resolved as soon as possible, if not for my sake, for my daughter’s.

But there was also something about Xavier that made me do a lot of things I shouldn’t.

Instead of doing what I knew was rational and sensible, I looked up at Adam with my sweetest smile. “Sure. A drink sounds fine.”

For a minute, I thought maybe I’d imagined him. Adam led me a few blocks up Court Street, gabbing the entire way about some portrait series he was working on at home, preferably something that could be featured in a new gallery in Fort Greene. He’d learned to paint during a short course at St. Martin’s in England, apparently, when he lived there briefly with his family. On any other day, I might have found the story interesting. I would have peppered him with questions about the place I’d always wanted to go.

Unfortunately, I was too distracted to listen as I kept looking over my shoulder for my big black shadow.

I had imagined him. I must have. There was no one there when I’d looked back again, nor had there been for the past four blocks. This was my fear playing tricks on me. Another sign I needed to take care of my business before it took care of me.

By the time we reached the pub Adam had suggested, I was satisfied that Xavier’s scowl had in fact been a product of my imagination. I smiled to myself as I found a seat at the bar while Adam left to use the bathroom. And then shrieked at the sound of my name in a familiar brooding British voice.

“Francesca.”

I spun around and nearly fell off my barstool. “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

Xavier slid onto the stool next to me and rolled his eyes. “Well, I didn’t come all the way to Brooklyn for the views, Ces. You saw me outside the school.”

Catching my breath, I gingerly sat back down. “You mean when you were stalking me at my place of work? Yes, I caught that. Just like you clearly saw me leave with my coworker.”

“Yeah, I think we all know what your coworker wants from you.”

Xavier glanced with a skeptical brow toward Adam, who was now at the other end of the bar, presumably ordering drinks. He was laughing and grinning at the bartender, who was batting a pair of fake-looking eyelashes at him.

“And the barmaid, it seems,” Xavier remarked. “And probably anything in a skirt.” He turned back to me, his dark gaze taking more than a few moments to drink me in. “You can do better.”

I swallowed, feeling slightly uncomfortable in my favorite corduroy overalls, a Blondie T-shirt, and one of the many wool sweaters I picked up at the Goodwill. My fingernails were unpainted, with a few remnants of glitter from today’s art project stuck to my palms. My hair was tossed up in a floppy bun, and the only attempt was my favorite gold hoops. Xavier, on the other hand, was wearing a cashmere coat, sleek leather gloves, and yet another black suit. I looked like one of my students, while he looked like Bruce Wayne. I was dressed for going toe-to-toe with eight-year-olds, not a tycoon.

No, no, no. He was not getting the upper hand. Not this time. This was Brooklyn. My school. My turf.

“Everything all right?”

We both turned to find Adam standing in front of us with two glasses, one with his drink of choice, the other wine.

He held the latter out to me. “I took the liberty of ordering you a Chardonnay, since you didn’t want a margarita.”

“She doesn’t like white wine,” Xavier cut in. “Only red.”

“Oh, shit.” Adam glanced between the two of us and the wine. “I can get you another glass?—”

“No, that’s fine.” I accepted the wine and took a sip. “That was very thoughtful, Adam. Thank you.”

Xavier was right—I didn’t typically like white wine. But I’d gulp this entire thing down like water if it wiped that smug look off his face.

“Hey, man, I’m Adam.” Adam held out his now free hand to Xavier.

“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I’m rude. This is?—”

“Xavier Parker,” Xavier interrupted. He did not put out his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Adam said, squinting slightly as he took back his hand and examined Xavier. “You look familiar, actually. Have we met before?”

Xavier just snorted. “Unlikely. Unless you read the Mail or the Mirror .”

I resisted the urge to flick him on the temple like I would do to Marie and Joni when they were being brats. “Stop being a snob,” I murmured before turning back to Adam. “Xavier is…an old family friend.”

Adam looked between us dubiously. I did my best not to twirl my hair and whistle. I knew what he was thinking. Between Xavier’s fancy duds and my red sweater that had been pulled out of shape by too many little hands, we didn’t exactly look like friends. Or people who would even exist within the same universe together.

“That’s right,” Xavier said smoothly. “A very good friend. Who, I’m afraid, is going to have to steal her away.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary right now…” I started.

Xavier arched a sleek black brow. “But we have important matters to discuss. Or did you forget?”

I sniffed. “Adam was nice enough to buy me a drink. I’m going to finish it. You will have to wait.”

“Francesca. I mean it.”

“Francesca?” Adam snorted. “You mean Frankie?”

Wrong. Move.

Xavier turned that deadly blue glare onto my companion, who visibly shrank under its force. “Yes, Francesca. As in, her name. What’s it to you?”

I sighed and set down my wine. A brawl over my given name was the last thing I needed.

“Adam, I’m so sorry, but Xavier is, unfortunately, correct. We have some personal things to talk over. I’m afraid I’ll have to take a rain check.” I fished a ten-dollar bill out of my purse. “Will this do?”

“I’ve got it.”

Xavier smacked a twenty down on the bar top. “Least I can do for ruining your little date.”

Adam stared at the bill, then Xavier, like he wanted to punch them both. I closed my eyes, exhaled, then picked up the bill and tucked it back in Xavier’s jacket pocket, just below the pocket square that matched his charcoal-gray tie.

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary,” I said. “If you’ll just wait for me outside, I’ll finish up here.”

When he didn’t move, I gave him the same look I practiced on Sofia when she refused to clean up her toys. The same one my grandmother had given me for years every time I bitched about doing the dishes or folding laundry. And probably the same one her mother had given her back in Italy, and on and on for who knew how many generations.

Xavier shuddered, as if he had just been shot through with an arrow. “Christ,” he muttered, but stood just the same.

“I’ll see you outside,” I said sweetly and turned to pay for my drink and make amends with Adam.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said once Xavier had exited the building.

“Interesting guy,” Adam replied before taking “You sure you’re all right?”

I nodded. I felt anything but sure, but I didn’t really have a choice, did I?

“He really does look familiar,” Adam was saying. “Where is he from again?”

“South London.” Dammit, where was my other glove?

“Curious. I’ll have to look him up. He didn’t go to Eton, did he?”

I opened my mouth to say no, but then realized I didn’t know. “I’m not sure. I know he moved schools a bit when he was a teenager. I’m not sure where he ended up, though.” I frowned, having located my glove on the floor. Gross. “Why?”

Adam gazed at the exit contemplatively while I finished putting on my coat and scarf. “Oh, that’s where my parents stuck me when we lived there for a couple of years.” He caught me watching him curiously and grinned. “Diplomat’s kid. Like being an army brat, but with better perks. You need help there?”

I blinked, shocked. Uber-hipster, tortoise-shell glasses-wearing, slightly scruffy Adam attended Eton College? Along with my ex-boyfriend and father of my child?

Without waiting for my answer, he got up and helped me with the other arm of my coat, which was inside out, while I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder.

“Well, at least I got a few minutes this time,” Adam said as he leaned down to press a brief kiss on my cheek.

I wanted to step out of reach but was too tied up between my things and the bar top to duck him. We were at the kissing stage now?

“Rain check,” he said kindly as he stood back up, despite the fact that I was the one leaving.

“Sure,” I murmured. “See you Monday.”

“Have a good weekend.”

I reemerged from the bar to find Xavier pacing outside like a dog waiting for its master. I couldn’t help the satisfaction pooling in my belly. Yes, I’d taken a little longer than was strictly necessary to come out. Yes, I was hoping for this exact effect.

I’d been sweating for a month. He could sweat for ten more minutes.

When he saw me, he stopped, masked the irritation, and offered a cool half-smile. “I hope he wasn’t too heartbroken you had to ditch him.”

That did it. All the stress, annoyance, frustration, and fear that had been piling up for the last ten minutes, not to mention the last month, came flying out of me.

“Yes, I came out here, but only to prevent you from causing an immature scene with someone I work with.” The more I thought about it, the more upset I grew, getting to the point where I was stripping off my gloves and shoving my hands into my pockets for want of something to do. “I know we have things to settle, but, Xavi? I am not at your beck and call anytime you want to show up and play the caveman. What are you doing here, anyway? It’s been a month, and I haven’t heard from you once.”

Xavier’s smug expression vanished. “Do you know, you are terrifying for someone so small. How do you manage it?”

I just folded my arms and stared up at him. I wasn’t in the mood for games.

He sighed. “Fine. Fine . It seemed more appropriate to come in person. Given, you know, the circumstances.”

“I think it would have been more appropriate to pick up the damn phone. Given, you know, the threat you made. Where have you been, if not consulting your giant team of lawyers on how best to screw me over?”

He exhaled through his teeth. “I was calming the fuck down,” he said through his teeth. “Seemed necessary after I was told I had a daughter I never knew about.”

I just rolled my eyes. “I wish I could take a month to cool down every time someone pissed me off. But since I live with a four-year-old, it doesn’t really work like that.”

Xavier’s entire body tensed at the mention of Sofia, and a finger of fear slipped right down my neck.

“Right,” he said. “Well, about that?—”

“If you’re going to serve me with papers or a lawsuit or whatever, you could have just sent a process server or some delinquent to do it,” I rambled on, suddenly unable to keep my hands still. “You didn’t have to fly across the big blue ocean to scare me and Sofia again.”

“I—no, I didn’t.” He dragged the ball of one foot across the sidewalk, then the other, like a slow motion tap dance. “Look, can we go somewhere and talk? Just you and me. About everything.”

“No lawyers?” I meant to sneer, but it came out more like a whimper. I didn’t want to admit how much he had scared me with that.

He gave me a hard look, but one that softened after a few seconds. “Not today,” he said finally.

My stomach twisted. I supposed it was better than the alternative.

“I have some time,” I said. “Maybe I’ll get a glass of wine after all. Red, of course. Not white.”

I turned around before that wicked, knowing smile crossed his face again. I had to. I was afraid I would smile back.