Page 37 of Off Limits Daddies
The lie tastes bitter, but what else can I say? Their father is the principal at the high school where I teach, and he doesn't know they exist yet?
Rory tugs on my sleeve. "Mom, when can we meet Grandma and Grandpa?"
The secretary's eyes light up with interest. "Oh, are your parents still in town? The Wilsons, right? I heard your father isn't doing well."
"Soon," I tell Rory, ignoring the secretary's fishing expedition. "We'll visit them soon."
After we finish at the elementary school, I take the twins to lunch at a diner on Main Street. They chatter excitedly about their new school, the playground they saw, the kids they might meet. I try to focus on their happiness instead of the anxiety gnawing at my insides.
Tonight is parent-teacher conference night. I'll be there late, meeting with parents, pretending everything is normal while Jack, Blake, and Noah are all in the same building. Thethought makes my stomach twist with equal parts dread and anticipation.
By the time I drop the twins off at the babysitter's I'd interviewed and hired last week, my nerves are frayed.
When I get to the academy, the parking lot is already filling with parents arriving for conferences. I park and take a deep breath before heading inside.
The hallways buzz with activity. Parents cluster outside classrooms, waiting their turns. I smile and nod at colleagues as I pass, hyperaware of Jack's office at the end of the administrative wing. Is he in there right now? Is he thinking about me?
My classroom feels like a sanctuary when I finally reach it. I arrange my desk, review my notes for each student, and try to calm my racing heart. The first parents arrive right on time, and I slip into professional mode.
For the next three hours, I discuss reading levels, writing skills, and behavioral observations. I compliment students, suggest areas for improvement, and answer questions about the curriculum. It's exhausting but familiar, and I'm grateful for the distraction.
Between conferences, my mind wanders. I think about Blake in the gym, probably meeting with the parents of his football players. I picture his broad shoulders filling out his coaching polo, the way his brown eyes crinkle when he smiles. My body remembers the feel of his muscles flexing beneath my hands, the delicious weight of him pressing me into my apartment floor.
Then there's Noah, likely in his classroom grading papers between his own parent meetings. I imagine him in his button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his dark-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose as he concentrates. The memory of him taking me against that tree makes my thighs clench.
And Jack. God, Jack. He's probably in his office, projecting authority and control while parents discuss their concerns. Does he think about me bent over his desk? Does he remember the taste of me on his tongue?
I'm so screwed. Literally and figuratively.
The last parent finally leaves at eight-thirty. I gather my things slowly, dreading the drive home to an empty apartment. Well, empty except for the twins I'll pick up from the babysitter's. The thought of their innocent faces makes guilt twist through me.
What kind of mother am I? Sleeping with three different men, keeping secrets, and lying to everyone?
I step into the hallway and freeze.
Jack, Blake, and Noah stand outside my classroom door. All three of them. Together.
My heart slams against my ribs. The hallway is empty now, the other teachers having left already. It's just the four of us in this fluorescent-lit corridor, and the tension is thick enough to choke on.
Jack's hazel eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes my knees weak. He's still in his suit from earlier, the tie loosened slightly, the top button of his shirt undone. He looks every inch the authoritative principal, except for the barely controlled anger simmering beneath his professional facade.
Blake leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his broad chest. His coaching polo stretches across his shouldersin a way that would normally make my mouth water, but right now I'm too terrified to appreciate the view. His brown eyes are unreadable, his jaw tight.
Noah stands slightly apart from the other two, his hands shoved in his pockets. His dark hair is messier than usual, like he's been running his fingers through it. Behind his glasses, his green eyes hold a mixture of hurt and confusion that makes my chest ache.
"We need to talk," Jack says, his voice tight with controlled anger. "Privately."
I swallow hard. "About what?"
Glancing at the other two, I realize neither man has budged an inch. Apparently, they're not willing to give Jack the privacy he asked for.
Noah shifts his weight, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting mine again. "Can we go somewhere more private? Your classroom, maybe?"
I nod mutely, my heart slamming painfully inside my chest, and step back, holding the door open. They file in one by one, and I close the door behind us. The click of the latch sounds like the final death knell. It takes several times to swallow the lump in my throat as I wait for someone to speak up.
I'm pretty sure they know about each other, but I sure as hell am not going to volunteer any information.
Jack moves to stand in front of my desk, his posture rigid. Blake takes up position near the windows, his arms still crossed. Noah hovers by the door, as if he's not sure he wants to be here at all.
