Breaking All the Rules (Searching for Love Book 2)

by Kelly Myers

  My eyes flutter to a close. It’s been a long day, most of it outside, and I can feel weariness overcoming me. I try to force them open. I don’t want to just fall asleep in his bed and force myself on him. Besides, soon it will be morning, and that means his daughters will be awake.

  “I want you to stay the night.” David plants a kiss on my shoulder. “I want to sleep beside you.”

  It’s such a simple statement, but it’s the most romantic thing anyone has said to me in a long time.

  “Are you sure?” I whisper.

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I wake up with a jolt in the middle of the night. For a second, I have no idea where I am, and my limbs tense up.

  Then I feel the reassuring weight of David’s arm draped across me, and I remember. I’m in David’s room, tucked against his chest, covered in his clean and expensive-feeling sheets.

  After I agreed to spend the night, he lent me an oversized T-shirt to use as a nightgown. He pulled on his boxers but kept his chest bare which I have to admit gave me a thrill of excitement.

  It felt so natural to get ready for bed and then curl up against him. Usually it’s hard for me to fall asleep in a different bed beside a new person, but I dozed off instantly.

  I don’t know what woke me, but a glance at his clock declares it to be almost one in the morning.

  I try to close my eyes, but my mouth is so dry it’s distracting.

  I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep unless I get a drink of water. Careful to not disturb David, I pull myself out of his arms and slide to the floor beside the bed.

  I tiptoe across the room and crack the door open. He said his daughters sleep on the third floor, and his room is on the second, right at the top of the stairs, so I don’t even have to pass their bedrooms.

  I slip on my barefeet over to the stairs and down towards the kitchen.

  Not wanting to get hurt bumping into something in the dark, I flick on the light.

  I drift across the kitchen and grab a glass from a shelf, then fill it with some water from the pitcher in the fridge. It’s a nice kitchen, I note as I take a sip. It’s made to be useful, not to look pretty. A family space. The type of kitchen where someone can cook a meal while the kids sit on the counter and do their homework.

  I shake my head. I need to stop daydreaming. David and I are going to give things a try, and we’re going to be careful. That means no fantasizing about any future. We need to take things one step at a time.

  I rest my back against the counter and chug the glass of water. I’m surprised by my own thirst, and I pour myself another glass.

  As I drink the second glass, I think back on the events of the night. David has this hold over me, as I knew before, but I’m no longer so unsettled by it. The connection we have feels so special and unlike anything I’ve ever known. I don’t want to pull away anymore. I’m still intimidated by my attraction towards him, but I’m also excited.

  It’s not just the sex, although that part is great. It’s how much he seems to understand me. I feel comfortable opening up about a past relationship or my purpose in being a teacher because I get the sense he already knows who I am. I don’t need to try to be anyone other than myself with him.

  I turn to put the glass in the sink, and as I set it down, I hear the creak of the door upstairs followed by a heavy footfall. I realize David must have woken up and gone looking for me. I turn towards the door and freeze.

  Because David is not standing in the doorway to the kitchen, but someone a lot smaller is. Someone I didn’t hear creeping down the stairs.

  Amy.

  I widen my eyes and think desperately for a way to spin this. I realize there’s no solution. I’m in her father’s T-shirt and little else, standing in her kitchen in the middle of the night. Amy’s young, but twelve isn’t that young. She knows how to put 2 and 2 together.

  For a brief second, I think that maybe she’s sleepwalking, but one look at her stricken face banishes that feeble hope.

  Her eyes are heavy with sleep, and she’s squinting in the harsh light, but she’s clearly awake and distrubed at the sight of me.

  “Miss Ramirez?” she whispers.

  I mouth her name, but no sound comes out.

  Then David appears behind his daughter, and his distressed face tells me everything I need to know. This is bad. Very bad. Amy might have been slightly amenable to the idea of her dad dating, but that does not mean she is ready to see her English teacher in her own kitchen.

  “Sweetheart, come here.” David grips Amy’s shoulders, and she turns to her father, but not before I see the shining tears in her eyes.

  David crouches and holds her in a tight hug. Her arms circle his neck and she buries her face in his neck. “Dad, why is she here?”

  David meets my eyes over his daughter’s thin shoulders, and the look on his face breaks my heart. His mouth is pressed in a thin line, and his eyes are deep wells of regret.

  Because we messed up. We weren’t careful enough. I wasn’t careful enough. What was I thinking, wandering through the house as if his two young daughters didn’t exist?

  I got too comfortable far too fast, just because he gave me a pretty speech over a glass of wine about how Amy wouldn’t even be my student in a month.

  I’m still her teacher. Her favorite teacher. Or at least, I was her favorite teacher. It’s clear that me romancing her dad is a huge betrayal.

  “It’s ok, honey,” David whispers in her ear. “I’m going to take you upstairs and explain everything.”

  He glances once more at me as he lifts Amy up and backs out of the room. His eyes hold no anger or accusation, only sadness and awkwardness.

  It’s over between us. In a matter of seconds, the delicate foundation we started to build has collapsed. We were giving it a try, but the horse twisted its ankle before it even got out of the gate.

  We knew we had to be careful about how we introduced a relationship to his daughters. We were supposed to take time. Even then, it might not have worked.

  Now, after seeing Amy’s hurt and shock, I know it won’t work.

  David will always choose his daughter over me. I can’t blame him for that. It’s the way it should be. If he didn’t value his children so much, I wouldn’t care about him the way I do.

  So I do the only thing I can. I wait for David to be up on the third floor, and then I slip out of the kitchen, tiptoe up the stairs and duck into his room. I gather up all my clothes and get dressed, willing myself not to burst into tears.

  I can cry later, in the safety of my room. For now, I just need to not be here. I need to escape this horrid situation.

  Once I’m dressed, I fold his shirt neatly and tuck it under a pillow. Then I slip back down the stairs and out the front door.

  I could call a car, but I decide to walk. It’s only about ten minutes to my place, and Lake View is safe, even late at night.

  Besides, I need some sort of physical activity to quiet my restless mind.

  No matter how fast I walk, I keep seeing Amy’s shocked little face. I keep hearing the slight break in her voice when she said: “Miss Ramirez?”

  I feel ashamed of myself. This is not how a good teacher behaves. I’m supposed to care about my student’s development, not traumatize them for life. I knew going on a second date with David was trouble. I knew that, and I did it anyway.

  By the time I reach my apartment, the tears are coursing down my face. The few people I pass probably think I’m another party girl heading home after a few too many drinks at the club.

  When I at last reach my own bed, it’s not as comfortable as usual. In fact, I can’t help longing for crisp sheets of David’s bed and the clean white comforter. And the way he held me so tight against his chest.

  This just makes me cry even more. I got to have one little taste of a relationship with David, and then it was yanked away. Why? Maybe to teach me a lesson about going for guys that I know are not right for me. David w
as too old, too handsome, too risky, too everything.

  I have the strangest urge to call up Marianne and scream at her. She encouraged this. She told me that I deserved to take risks and have fun, and now look at what happened.

  Marianne doesn’t deserve that though. And I’m not mad at her, not really. She gave me the advice that she thought would serve me best. I’m just mad at myself. I have never seen any appeal in being impulsive and eschewing sound judgment. Yet with David, I did it anyway.

  I pick up my phone. I know what I have to do before I disintegrate. I type out a quick text to David: I am so sorry. I hope Amy is ok, and I understand I’ve messed things up. I’m sorry.

  I realize that I don’t need to take all the blame. From what I know of David, he’s probably a few blocks away, beating himself up. He probably thinks it’s his fault. And it is partly his fault. But I want to let him off the hook. I want him to know it’s alright. We have to call it off, and I’m not going to fight it because I know Amy’s needs have to come before our own.

  And because I still care about him, I don’t want him to beat himself up. He’s a good father. He was just trying to find someone to love, like all the rest of us. He shouldn’t be punished for doing that. Bringing me home doesn’t make him a bad father, especially since he was careful. I was the idiot who went for a midnight stroll to the kitchen.

  I send him the text. Then I toss my phone aside and curl up on my bed.

  I don’t think I’m going to be able to fall asleep. I just think I’m going to cry the entire night.

  But to my surprise, my body takes over. I was outdoors the whole day, and then I only managed to sleep a few hours in David’s bed, and clearly that wasn’t enough.

  I’m still in my clothes and in the middle of weeping when I fall asleep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I want Sunday to pass slowly. In fact, I want it to be one of those days that feels like about ten years, because that’s how long it’s going to take for me to get over the awful scene in David’s kitchen.

  Sunday does not last ten years. In fact, it flies by. Sundays never last ten years. It’s always the awful weekdays that go on forever.

  I wake up late, and I mope about my apartment, nursing my coffee until it’s cold. I text my friends to fill them in. They all feel bad and want to visit and console me, but I tell them I need some time by myself, but maybe we can talk more later in the week.

  Early in the afternoon, I go for a walk. I tell myself that getting some sun and fresh air will be good for me.

  After a few blocks, I start to worry that I could run into David. Or worse, David with his daughters. Even though I walked in the opposite direction of his house, I’m too paranoid to stay out for too long so I got back to my apartment.

  Is this going to be the rest of my life? Walking around in fear of running into David at my favorite coffee shop or at the grocery store? The one perk in my breakup with Logan is that he lived in a totally different neighborhood. With David right around the corner, I’ll never feel safe.

  I trudge back up to my studio and continue to dread the next day.

  Facing Amy in class is going to be nearly impossible. I’m tempted to call in sick and get a substitute. Then again, that will just push off the inevitable by one day. And, I take pride in never calling in sick.

  I felt awkward seeing Amy the day after I first slept with David, and now that she knows, it’s going to be painful.

  On top of that, what if Amy talks? No one gossips like a bunch of middle schoolers. I wouldn’t even blame her for telling her friends about how Miss Ramirez is a total slut who might seduce anyone’s father. It’s what I would have done at that age if I ended up seeing a teacher in a similar situation.

  Amy might need to share the news with her friends in order to process the whole thing. Sometimes when you can’t talk to a parent or a therapist, you can talk to a friend.

  But as soon as Amy tells her close friends, the news that I was having nighttime relations with a parent is going to spread like wildfire. It won’t just spread among the students. It will reach the teacher’s lounge as well. Probably the parents too.

  I won’t get fired or anything. I haven’t broken any rules. But the other teachers are going to say nasty things behind my back. The teachers who are friends with me will defend me, but they’ll still give my pitying looks. Poor, young Miss Ramirez, getting sloppy with a parent.

  I don’t really care what the parents say, but I hope the rumours won’t encourage any other fathers to flirt. I’m done dating parents. I’m done even considering it.

  The one saving grace is that it’s almost summer vacation. I’ll have to endure the gossip for a few weeks, and then I’ll be free. All this will die down by the fall.

  Everyone else will forget it, but I won’t. I’ll be stuck cursing my stupidity for a long time to come. I went for something I wanted without fully considering the consequences, and the worst part is, I’m not the only one suffering. Amy is suffering the most out of all of us.

  I wonder how David explained it to her. I wonder what she said. I’m sure he stayed calm and explained it well. That he and I had been dating. I’m also sure that Amy was upset that it was her teacher. She probably asked why he had to date me of all people. Did he not care about her dead mother anymore? Why couldn’t he have dated any other woman in Chicago?

  All perfectly valid points, and all heartbreaking questions for a little girl to have to ask.

  No matter how kind and understanding and loving David was, Amy is not going to get over this any time soon. She’s definitely not going to get over it by tomorrow afternoon, when I next see her.

  I’ll just have to straighten my spine and tough it out. I’ll force myself to behave like normal as I teach, and maybe the students won’t notice it’s all an act. I won’t be able to look Amy in the eye. I hope she manages to participate. I hope this doesn’t send her into a sulking mood.

  In the late afternoon, my phone rings. David’s name flashes across the screen. I knew he would call. He hasn’t responded to my text, and he’s not just going to let things end without at least paying me the respect of a phone call. That’s David all over. He’ll handle even the most dreadful situations like an adult. And I can do that too. So I pick up.

  “Hi.” My voice sounds weak and pathetic, so I clear my throat. “David, I’m so sorry.”

  “No, please, don’t apologize.” His words come out stiff and firm. I hunch my shoulders and shrink into myself. This is the worst. “It was my fault, I made a big misstep as a parent.”

  He doesn’t clarify what exactly the misstep was. Was it going on a second date or asking me out in the first place? Was it bringing me to his home instead of heading to my apartment?

  Maybe it was all a misstep. Just a huge mistake from start to finish.

  “Is Amy ok?” I swallow my tears. I’ve cried enough over this. “I feel awful about it.”

  “She’s hurt, but you didn’t do anything wrong,” David says. “She feels like I took something away from her by dating her teacher, which is true. And, you were the one who said that would happen, so I should have listened.”

  Every word out of his mouth is soaked with bitterness, and it physically hurts my ears to listen to him. He’s right. I did say that if Amy found out, she would feel betrayed by the both of us, and if he had listened, we wouldn’t be in this position. But his bitterness makes me feel like he regrets everything.

  No matter what, I can’t regret kissing him or sleeping with him. I wish I had thought through the time and place better, but I won’t regret the way he made me feel, even if he does.

  “I’m sorry, Elena, but we’re going to have to take a break.” David sighs, and I can picture his shoulders slumping as he speaks. “My kids have to take priority.”

  He’s right. I understand completely. But it isn’t until the words are out of his mouth that I realize I was hoping, against all odds, he might want to still see me. I don’t know how that would
have worked. He’s not the type to want to sneak around or hook up on the down low, but even so, I longed to see him again. Somehow, I hoped it might work out, even though the rational part of me knew it wouldn’t.

  “I understand.” My words come out just above a whisper.

  “Right. Thank you.” His tone is curt and almost harsh.

  I flinch. Is this what we’ve come to? After feeling so close last night, how have we become so stiff and awkward with each other?

  Maybe it was all a fluke. Two good nights, nothing more. I know it wasn’t a fluke. I know we had a shot to be something great, and we missed in a catastrophic way. I wish it had been a fluke. Just a quick spark of connection that died out within hours, nothing more.

  David is silent on the other end, but I know he won’t just hang up. I have to say something else. Something to end this dreadful conversation.

  I want to say something that shows how much I appreciate and admire him. It can’t be too emotional though, or else he will just pity me. I refuse to be clingy or needy. And I’m not going to come out with something over the top like declaring my love. But I have to say something.

  “I think you’re really wonderful, David.” I twist up my mouth. It’s not the most eloquent statement, but nothing I can do now. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Elena.”

  As soon as his words end, I hang up the phone.

  Then, I burst into a fresh batch of tears.

  I’ve always been an easy crier. I weep when I’m scared, nervous, nostalgic, happy. You name an emotion, and it will make me cry. I’ve never really been ashamed. It’s just how I am. Crying is cathartic, and it helps me process my feelings. As long as I don’t cry in public too much, I don’t see any harm in it.

  For the first time in my life though, I wish I could do something besides cry. I wish I could fight and yell and scream at David. I want him back.

  But I know I can’t fight this one. If he was the type of guy to choose me over his kids, then I wouldn’t care about him as much.