Page 25 of The Write Choice

Brandon chuckles, and for a second, this feels almost normal. Settled. A little light banter, like we used to have over breakfast before this mess of moving and new jobs and lying awake at night wishing I could run my hands through his hair…

“No,” he answers, interrupting that thought. He pushes the brochures around, not really looking at them.

I turn my back to the eggs to let them cook a little longer. I bend over to lean my elbows against the counter. Brandon’s gaze drops to my chest and quickly corrects itself back to my face.

“I thought you were always married to the idea of private schools.” I arch an eyebrow at him and lean forward just a little more. I’m a tease, and I don’t even feel bad about it.

He presses his lips together, then sticks his tongue in his cheek as he clearly tries hard not to drop his eyes to my chest again. I fight against a smirk, and his eyes glimmer at the twitch in my mouth.

He clears his throat pointedly. “In New York, it made sense. But this is a suburb. From what Mac tells me, the public schools in this area are excellent.”

“Mac is a public-school evangelist,” I counter. I’m just being difficult, and he probably knows it, but this is a game we play often, and I’m feeling playful this morning.

“Daniel seemed impressed.” Brandon tilts his head, his hazel eyes sparkling. I’m elated he seems willing to play along.

“He’s biased, too. And don’t bring Jenny and Ben into this, either. They’re all part of the system.” I push off the counter and turn the stove off. I grab the plates I had set out earlier and start loading them up with eggs.

“I thought you, of all people, would be open to the idea of public school.”

I put his plate in front of him and slide a fork across the counter. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shoves a forkful of eggs in his mouth and speaks around it. “It means, you have been nearly obsessed with the idea of the kids living ‘normal lives.’” He uses air quotes around the last words, nearly dropping his fork in the process of his gentle mocking. “Wouldn’t public school fit the bill?”

“I want to go to public school!” Mason appears seemingly out of nowhere and slides onto the stool next to Brandon.

“How did you hear that, but you didn’t hear me tell you to move your stack of books off the stairs five times this morning?” I ask, placing a plate of eggs in front of him.

He grimaces at the plate, then looks at Brandon, opening his mouth to speak, but Brandon cuts him off. “No way. Your mom made eggs. Eat them.”

Mason grumbles, then uses his fork to push the eggs around on his plate. I walk over to where Christine is playing at a kid table and put a smaller plate and a plastic fork in front of her. She reaches out her chubby toddler arm and shoves the plate away without even looking at it. I sigh deeply and walk back to the island. I’m not trying to fight losing battles this morning.

“What makes you want to go to public school?” I return to the previous conversation.

“It seems fun?” Mason phrases it as a question. I’m immediately suspicious, and Brandon’s narrowed eyes and furrowed brow mirror my own.

Mason sinks into his seat and shoves a huge bite of eggs into his mouth. Brandon and I wait for him to swallow, which takes a painfully long time. When he does, he straightens on his stool. “Those private school kids back in New York were all jerks.”

“Language,” Brandon and I say in unison. He smiles lightly at me before turning his attention back to Mason.

“Well, they were,” Mason grumbles.

“Pretty sure kids are kids no matter where you go.” I stab my own eggs with my fork and eat them while standing. I eye Christine over Brandon’s shoulder. She is grabbing eggs with her hands, smooshing them in her fists, and then shoving the mangled pieces in her mouth. You know what? Whatever gets the job done.

“It’s worth a shot,” Brandon turns his attention to me. “Plus, the school is really close. If it weren’t so cold, we could probably walk there.”

“I’m not sure who you mean by ‘we.’ You’re never the drop-off parent.” I put my hands on my hips as I frown at him.

His lips part as he shakes his head slightly. “Do you want me to be the drop off parent?”

I raise my eyebrows in challenge. “I want you to be any kind of involved parent.”

He smirks at that—challenge accepted. “If Mason goes to the neighborhood school, I’d have plenty of time to drop him off most mornings on my way to work.”

Mason perks up, his face brightening. His eyes get wide like he knows we’ve already decided his public-school fate as his head swivels back and forth between the two of us.

“Okay.” I nod slowly, and Mason squeals, wiggling in his seat. My face softens at his excitement. “We can go check it out today.”

Having gotten what he wanted, Mason has the good sense to eat every morsel of eggs off his plate and stack it in the sink before he tries to surreptitiously exit the kitchen, but I’m on to him. “Pick up your stuff, or you’re not going to any school.”