by Ally Miller
Emma stops to buy coffee for her and Jonas. It seems he needs the caffeine. She climbs into the car, looks into the mirror, and smiles at her reflection. Her skin is clear and glowing with health. She looks ten years younger and happy. Life is getting better all the time.
The morning of the wedding arrives. Emma is dressed in a lovely burgundy pant suit. It is soft and flows over her curves gently. It is her job today to play the part of best man or lady if you want to be technical. Since it is her crisis over turning forty that brought Damien and Jonas together, it is fitting that she stands at their side as they get married. She reaches up to straighten Jonas’s tie and he whispers, “Are you sorry for having sex with me that day at the lake house?”
Emma is happy to wipe the worry from his face by truthfully replying, “I’m not even a little bit sorry. It was wonderful and it set into motion many other wonderful things. If it hadn’t happened our lives might be very different right now. But, it happened and four people are happier because of it. Let it go and enjoy your future.”
It is time to take her place at Damien and Jonas’ side. Emma winks at Mike, who is sitting up front as part of the families. Mike is Emma’s husband now. Their whirlwind romance and marriage serves as a fine example for Damien and Jonas. Love is definitely in the air. As the men recite their vows, Emma is beaming.
Emma cries as she watches the couple share the first dance of their marriage. Her emotions are on a roller coaster ride. She is proud and happy for her boys, in love with Mike, and shockingly horny. It is definitely the hormone surges that the doctor warned her about.
Emma dances the night away with Mike, Damien and Jonas. She looks up at the sky and says a silent, hope you are watching this, to Jonas’s dad. A star overhead twinkles extra brightly. It appears Emma’s words are heard. She blows a kiss and searches out her new husband.
The reception winds down and people line up to watch the newlyweds leave for their honeymoon. Emma hugs Jonas and kisses his cheek. She pulls Damien in for his hug and whispers her secret into his ear. A single tear rolls from Damien’s eye and he hugs Emma tighter. He whispers back, “I’ll tell Jonas as soon as we get in the car. He will be ecstatic. I’m so happy for all of us. We found our forever loves. See you soon.”
Emma and Mike supervise the cleanup crew. Emma is exhausted and ready to go home. Mike is worried as he peers into her tired eyes. He brings the car around so she doesn’t have to walk far. His worry escalates when Emma falls asleep in the car. The drive to the lake house is a long one and Emma sleeps the entire way. Mike reluctantly wakes her when they arrive. She apologizes profusely for falling asleep, especially since there is something important she needs to tell Mike. Mike insists she make herself comfortable on the couch while he fixes them some tea. He is terrified of what she may have to tell him. Mike remembers losing his first wife and prays he isn’t going to lose Emma too.
Mike brings in the tea. Emma is curled up on the couch, wrapped in the blanket. She sees fear in his face and quickly kisses him and says, “I didn’t mean to cause you any anxiety. I’m just so happy that I didn’t even consider you might think my important news was bad. Let’s see if I can put a smile on your face. I’m pregnant!”
THE END
Bonus 7 of 30
Alive
Description
When he walked into my math class, I was pissed at him. Dean took over the teaching position after my father had passed away, who I still missed whenever I walked into that class. And Dean’s presence only reinforced my loss. I lashed out.
Dean wouldn't take any attitude from me. What started as animosity between us turned into something much more significant and compelling. I couldn’t walk away even if I needed to.
He wanted to discipline me.
I wanted to obliterate him.
Except he was my teacher.
Forbidden
Yet…
Tempting.
Chapter 1
“Lily.”
I glanced up guiltily, jolted from doodling a flower vortex on the corner of my loose-leaf notebook. I was supposed to be paying attention to Romeo and Juliet, but their supposedly love story was boring and useless. Dying uselessly over love.
That coupled with the fact that my best friend, Kate, puking her guts out at home over the tacos we ate over the weekend, made for a boring day.
I couldn't wait until my next class, math. Math was my favorite subject. Next year, I was entering college pursuing a degree in mathematical economics. It was made even better with my dad teaching me.
“Yes, Mr. French?” I said, as I stared up at him.
Yeah. Mr. French was teaching English. That never got old, I thought as I chuckled inwardly.
He looked at me sympathetically, “Lily, please go to the principal’s office.”
“Why?” I shrank further in my seat when the students around me started to ooh me. I didn’t do anything wrong, as far as I knew. My dad would be terribly disappointed in me. He’s been a patient and loving dad, but he guarded his professional life sacredly. I couldn’t mess that up for him. So I was extra careful about how my actions could reflect on him.
“I’ll write you a hall pass.” He ignored my question and placed a blue slip on my desk.
Curious and glad to leave the class, I packed up my books and bag while subtly giving the middle finger to whoever was still laughing at me.
I ran out of the class and down the staircase before Mr. French could reprimand me.
I was careful about my actions but that didn’t mean I didn’t fight back subtly.
Now I wish I was more prepared when I entered the principal’s office.
One month later
I stared glumly at the clock hand, desperate for this class to be over. The students milling about faded as I focused on the second clock hand. Two more minutes. The substitute teacher was droning on about the theorems and proofs.
The teacher that was teaching calculus was not my dad. My dad was not writing on that whiteboard. Once what used to be my favorite subject turned to something I couldn’t get away fast enough from. I barely spoke in class or participated.
We’ve had a substitute ever since my dad passed away.
A stroke while driving, veering the car into oncoming traffic.
The heartbreaking news was that the cause of death was trauma to the head, not the stroke. Only if he hadn’t been driving the car. He could have lived another day.
He was stolen from me too early. There were many years that we could have spent together.
“Before the bell rings, I wanted to let you guys know something. It’s been a pleasure to be your substitute teacher under the circumstances. I’m sad to say that today is my last day subbing for you all. Tomorrow, you’ll meet your new math teacher, Mr. Carter. It was a pleasure teaching you.”
The bell rang.
The students clapped in farewell to our substitute.
I couldn't bear to look at him so I walked out.
Chapter 2
I settled in the back of the class. Away from prying eyes and any chance of being called upon.
Everyone was chatting away or on their smartphones. I kept my head down and read my book. A hush fell as the noise slowly quieted. Everyone sat up and pulled their notebooks out on the desk.
I looked over to the front of the class to see Mr. Carter plop his briefcase on top of his desk as he looked over the class.
I swore a collective sigh was heard.
He was too handsome to be a teacher and too young to be a teacher. Too rugged to be a teacher. He sported a beard and it was trimmed close making him sexier. Black hair that was cropped short on the sides and longer on the top. His skin was tanned from the sun. His hazel eyes were commanding as he took in the class.
The effect was devastating.
And I didn’t like the way my body reacted.
“My name is Mr. Carter and I’ll be your teacher for the rest of your senior year.” He turned to pull out the attendance sh
eet from his briefcase. “Let’s do a roll call.”
“Adam. John. David.” He continued to call upon each student until he stumbled upon my name. “Lily.”
When he heard no response he looked up, searching for me. He was about to mark me absent but the students had turned around to stare at me, giving away my much needed anonymity.
“Ms. Lily, I don’t have time for childish antics. Please make yourself present when I call upon your name. Let’s try this again. Lily?” He stared at me, expectantly.
Something about him made me want to do the exact opposite of what he asked me. I wanted to make it difficult for him. He wasn't supposed to be there.
He had permanently taken the position that was my dad’s. Everyday his presence would be a constant reminder of my dad’s absence.
I craved to do something bad.
“What if I don’t want to make myself present?” I challenged.
“I would tell you that you’ve forced yourself to the top of the list where I will be forced to call upon you for every answer.”
“I won’t answer them.”
He turned to address the class. “There will always be one idiot who will stand randomly, make stupid jokes and be a troublemaker.” He lets his gaze roam over me. “I’m assuming that will be you?”
“I’m not the one standing.” I retorted.
Pin drop silence followed.
Mr. Carter was quiet for a few moments. “You think you’re so smart. Which you can be and will be. But right now, I’m ten times smarter than you.”
“I’m zero times smarter than you.”
Ooh-ahhs surrounded the class.
The students watched the exchange with fascination.
“It’ll be remiss of me to not to send you to the principal’s office, then,” he answered.
“Been there. Done that.” That was the closest I had come to acknowledge that horrible, world-tilting day in the principal’s office. “Try again.” I responded with my chin in the air.
It was a flicker but I noticed it nonetheless. He wasn't pleased. His hazel eyes glowered. He didn’t like that I challenged him especially in front of the class. I brought his authority into question.
I had him pegged. He was the domineering type and everyone had to bow to him.
“Don’t try me, Ms. Lily.” His sleeve stretched as he pulled his wrist to check the time on his watch. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time to remind you who is the boss.”
I snorted with an air of derision. “Are you even old enough to be a teacher?” He looked to be in his early twenties.
His gaze bore into me, trying to bend me my existence to his will.
I stared back, defiantly. I wouldn't cower to him. Nor bend to his will.
He broke the heated stare down. “Old enough,” he murmured. That murmur tingled down my spine. That murmur promised retribution.
The thought excited me more than it should before I shook my head.
He decided to start the class lesson while I sat there on my phone. The class settled into the daily lesson about triangles and I continued to play on my phone, uncaring of what was going on around me.
About fifteen minutes in, my phone was snatched out of my hand. “Hey!”
“You aren't taking notes.” He tapped one long finger against the notebook I had placed just for ceremony.
“I don't need to.” I gritted my teeth. All the teachers had left me to my devices after my father died. In sympathy and pity.
Mr. Carter never seemed to have gotten that memo.
“I don’t tolerate childish behavior,” he stated. He glanced at the phone in his hand. “Candy Crush is more important than passing?” He raised one eyebrow.
I laughed, derisively, folding my arms across my chest. “I don’t just pass. I have the highest grade in the class.” I stated, arrogantly, locking eyes with him.
I was fucking smart.
“You may have. But you have yet to take my test and quizzes. Don’t be so overly confident. And since you deemed my lesson as easy, I’m simply going to have to make them harder for everyone.” He pocketed my phone and walked away.
Groans ensued from the class. The students grumbled around me, shooting me nasty glares.
I shrugged. I wasn't speaking hyperbole. The math was too fucking easy.
The substitute spoon fed them every answer.
We’re taking calculus, not freshman algebra. It was supposed to be challenging.
Chapter 3
After class, I went up to the front of the class to grab my phone. Mr. Carter was erasing the whiteboard. During class, he took his suit jacket off and his bulging biceps would distract me whenever he exerted them.
Like now. I could keep staring at him.
I stood there silently waiting for him to notice me. He took his time to acknowledge me—erasing the whiteboard, packing his markers and eraser into his briefcase, and shuffling all the papers in a single file.
Finally, a few minutes later, he walked around the desk to where I was standing, stopping a couple of inches before and leaned back on the desk.
The air between us was charged and electric.
The thrill of sparring with him excited me.
I was confused with the visceral reaction my traitorous body was experiencing for the first time.
My nipples poked through my thin bra. Stubbornly, I blamed the cold draft coming in from the window.
In response, his eyes flicked down to my chest before raising his eyes back to mine. I shook my head, unsure of what was happening.
We were in a stare down. I was intensely aware of his bare forearms when he pulled up the sleeves of his shirt.
I broke the stare, pushing my palm out, silently. He knew what I wanted.
He looked at my outstretched hand and raised his eyebrows.
Mr. Carted was going to have me break the silence.
“I need my phone.”
He smirked. “You will not get it until the end of the day.”
“What? Why?” I sputtered.”That’s insane.”
“I will not be challenged. And to answer your earlier question, I’m twenty-five.”
“You can’t just take my phone. It’s not yours.”
“Tell you what. Apologize and I’ll give it.”
“No.” I glared at him
“Okay, then.” He straightened and turned halfway to grab his briefcase.
I sighed and closed my eyes. “Fine. Sorry.”
What can I say? I couldn't live without my phone.
He flashed a smile at my quick capitulation. “See. That wasn't so hard. This is the start of a great relationship.” He pulled my phone out of his pocket and passed it to me. "And I wanted to take this opportunity and build on that relationship. I'm sorry about your dad. Life is cruel and you didn't need to bear that at such a young age." His voice was contrite and his eyes were sympathizing.
He was truly sorry as far as I could tell. Too bad he didn't know that I hated sympathy. It's the reason why I haven't let anyone console or come up to me. I've built a wall around me that screamed fuck off.
I walked away. “It's the start of the worst relationship of your life.” I threw back over my shoulders.
He seemed to understand that I didn't want sympathy, pity or be coddled. I wanted it as I gave it to people. Straight.
“Okay, then. Glad we got that out of the way. The next time you disrespect me in front of the class and try to undermine me, I won't be as kind and forgiving.”
“Okay, Mr. Carter.” I said in a sing-song voice over my shoulders as I continued to give him my back. This wasn't the last of what he was going to hear of me. He was in for a rude-awakening.
My steps faltered. I swore I heard him say ‘fuck me’ when he got a look at my ass.
He was my teacher.
I was his student.
I had to have imagined that.
The charged air surrounding us when we were in the same room meant nothing.
It couldn't.
Chapter 4
Kate and I were settled in my bedroom watching TV, scrolling mindlessly through the channels when she suddenly bursts with, “I think I’m going to break up with Simon.”
I gasped in horror, “What? Why? You guys are sickeningly and sweetly in love”
“Exactly! We are sickeningly sweet. I want passion, drama and I-I don’t know!” she stuttered. “I want someone that needs me like water and oxygen.”
“That love is only found in movies and books. It isn't real, Kate.”
“It’s possible. Zack and I have that,” she said softly.
I fumbled. “No, Kate. Tell me you didn’t cheat on Simon.” Sweet Simon who worshipped the ground she walked on. He loved Kate as much as an eighteen-year-old could. We had become a threesome, Simon becoming a great friend to me.
Kate glanced towards the window, not answering me. It was fleeting, but I saw the guilt shining in her eyes.
My mind is racing because cheating was something I didn’t think Kate could do. She would rather break it off than cheat.
She answered after a few minutes. “It happened one time. The sex was great. Passionate. Clingy. It was raw fucking,” she explained.
“But like everything else, that will fade to mutual attraction and like for each other,” I said gently, trying to sway her decision. Kate was a hopeless believer in sparks flying, chemistry sizzling. “You’ve seen it firsthand hand with my parents.”
My parents had a love marriage. It was great for the first couple of years until it fizzled into nothing. Dad kept trying to regain that connection, that spark. But my mother had become bitter after years living in his shadow, following a man and giving up her career. She grew bored and restless. But my dad never stopped trying.
Until he died.
I lived alone.
I was only seventeen—about to turn eighteen—when child services learned of my case. I begged to be able to continue to live on my own. I was going to turn eighteen by the time I graduated. The mortgage was already paid off. And my dad’s life insurance policy would cover my college expenses.
