Claiming What's Mine Page 4

  The compliment does exactly what it’s meant to. Her eyes light up as her frown morphs into a smile. “It was a beautiful party for a beautiful couple,” she agrees. “Kenneth is a miracle worker. I don’t know what I would do without that man. We’re going to sit down early next week to start firming up the wedding plans. There is so much to do.”

  I roll my eyes. Good Lord. The idea of my mother putting her head together with Kenneth makes the corners of my lips twitch. Poor Grace. She has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. If Francesca’s over-the-top wedding was any indication, this one will be nothing short of a three-ring circus.

  Better her than me.

  “You did a wonderful job, Mama. Everyone had a fantastic time, and the food was delicious.”

  “Thank you.” Reaching up, she strokes my cheek just like she used to when I was a child. It takes serious willpower not to close my eyes and sink into the comforting gesture. “You work too hard, darling.”

  I sigh.

  This is a conversation she likes to sneak in at least once a month. I know exactly where it will end—with talk of wedding bells and babies.

  “That’s because I love my job,” I remind her.

  This is my second year working as a guidance counselor at Lincoln High School, which is located thirty minutes from my parents’ house. Last spring, when I was offered a contract for the following academic year, I purchased a small bungalow in the same town as the school. Some people spend hours commuting every day. It takes me less than fifteen minutes from door to door.

  The best part of my job is that I get to work with kids. It’s rewarding, and I feel like I’m making an impact on their lives most of the time.

  It’s also demanding. There are days when I’m overrun with students and meetings with teachers and parents, going in a million different directions before stumbling home blurry-eyed and exhausted. And there are afternoons when I stay late to finish up computer work and am too tired to make dinner for myself, choosing instead to eat a bowl of Grapenuts at the kitchen counter before falling into bed.

  All that said, I enjoy it and can’t imagine doing anything else.

  “Yes, yes, yes.” Mama waves a hand dismissively. “But there’s more to life than work.” She casts a knowing look from under thick, sooty eyelashes. It’s one that says she expects grandbabies sooner rather than later. Since I’m not currently dating anyone, and haven’t for some time, there’s little chance of that happening.

  Unless immaculate conception is an option.

  Her words would roll off me like water off a duck’s back any other day. But I’m not up for verbally sparring with her after my run-in with Roman. I still feel raw and tender. “I’m only twenty-six, Mama. There’s plenty of time for that. I’m not in any rush.” I mentally apologize to my sister before throwing her under the bus. “You already have one married daughter. Maybe you should have the grandbaby conversation with her.”

  According to Francesca, our mother badgers her around two o’clock every Sunday afternoon when they talk on the phone.

  “Trust me on this, one day you’ll blink, and you’ll be out of time. You need to think about this now, while you’re still young.”

  I’m tempted to roll my eyes but don’t.

  My parents are proud of me for earning bachelor’s and master’s degrees, but at the end of the day, they want to see me married to a nice, successful Italian man so I can settle down nearby and have three or four babies for them to spoil rotten. They may be progressive, but they’re still old school at heart. Family is the pinnacle of everything. And that philosophy will never change.

  “Didn’t you mention a teacher at school who keeps asking you out?”

  In a moment of weakness, I mentioned Drew to get her off my back. I probably shouldn’t have.

  He’s a super-nice guy but…

  It’s difficult, if not impossible, to fall for another man when your brain is preoccupied with a churlish asshole.

  I almost shake my head at that thought. I’m so aggravated with myself. This afternoon has opened my eyes to what an absolute idiot I’ve been. I spend all my time counseling students, sometimes teachers and parents, but it’s obvious that I’m the one in need of intense therapy.

  Or deprogramming.

  Maybe an exorcism.

  Whatever it takes to evict Roman from my head.

  I should want to be with a nice guy. One who will treat me well. Not a brooding jerk.

  Drew teaches chemistry and physics at Lincoln. He’s one of the most popular teachers there. Students with no interest in science sign up for his classes. I have no idea how, but he breaks down challenging subject material and makes it easier for them to grasp. He has a great sense of humor and tries to infuse it into his lectures. I wish we had more teachers like Drew.

  For obvious reasons, I haven’t given in to Drew’s pursuit of me. Maybe, in light of what occurred this afternoon, that’s something I should reconsider. It seems shortsighted to turn down a great guy because I’ve been hung up on Roman.

  “Mama…”

  “Maybe you need to give this man a chance.” Before I can utter another word, she follows up with, “Is he Italian?”

  Smiling, I raise my brows and drawl, “Nooope.”

  Mama waves a hand as if that’s a minor detail. “I’m sure he makes up for it with other redeeming qualities.”

  A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth.

  Standing near the window that overlooks the sprawling yard, she nods toward the tent bursting at the seams with friends and family.

  My gaze settles on Roman, who stands beside my father with the box of cigars he snatched from my hands.

  “He’s handsome, yes?” my mother muses, nudging my shoulder with hers.

  I grit my teeth as Roman’s hurtful words reverberate through my head.

  I don’t want you touching me!

  Humiliation and anger slowly burn through me, heating my cheeks in the process. Channeling as much calmness and composure as possible, I shrug and say, “He’s fine.”

  Unaware of the hurt pounding through me, Mama slyly continues, “I think he’s quite handsome. Your father has given him a great deal of responsibility this past year. He’s a strong man.”

  I refuse to discuss Roman with her. Ignoring her attempt to bait me into a conversation, I give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Sorry, Mama, but I have to go. We’ll talk soon, okay?”

  Resigned that her scheming has been for naught, she sighs dramatically. “All right darling, but consider giving that teacher of yours a chance.”

  The woman is relentless.

  And I wouldn’t trade her for the world.

  Chapter Seven

  I smile at the student sitting across the desk from me.

  Ella Michaels is eighteen years old and will graduate in less than two months. She’s worked hard over the last four years and should end with close to a four-point GPA. She tested well on both the ACT and SAT, which she took at the end of her junior year, and had her choice of top-notch universities all over the country. Since she’s a state champion swimmer who lettered freshman year and broke two school records in the four hundred breaststroke and freestyle, universities with D1 swim programs have vied for her attention since she was a sophomore. After visiting her top three schools last year and talking at length with the coaches, she settled on Florida State.

  Intelligent, athletic, and talented, Ella is one of those students who make everything look effortless. She appears to have it all. It would be easy to hate her, but she’s sweet, genuine, and goes out of her way to be friendly with everyone.

  Two months ago, she came into my office in tears and told me she was pregnant. She was terrified to break the news to her parents. They were so proud of everything she’d accomplished. All she could see were her dreams and the future she had worked so hard to secure slipping through her fingers. We spent a couple of hours talking before calling her parents and inviting them to my office, where Ella broke the ne
ws.

  They were shocked. It was painful to watch all the different emotions—distress, fear, anger, and sadness —flicker across their faces. I give them a lot of credit for not getting upset or flying off the handle. They both took deep breaths and agreed that it was disappointing, but not the end of the world.

  Ella decided not to continue her competitive swim career at Florida State. She chose to stick closer to home so that she can commute to a local community college, where she’ll begin taking classes next spring. Her boyfriend, Collin, also changed his plans. He’ll attend the same college but will start right away in the fall.

  This isn’t how Ella anticipated ending her senior year, but she’s embraced change and is doing what she can to succeed by adjusting her expectations and goals. I’m proud of how she’s taken control of the situation.

  I have a caseload of approximately four hundred students in grades nine through twelve. I meet with some kids on a regular basis. A few pop in almost daily. And some only require a quick check-in every few weeks to make sure they’re on track and aren’t falling behind. Others make weekly appointments during study hall to talk about the issues in their lives. Most of them are normal teenage growing pains.

  Since the pregnancy came to light, I tend to meet with Ella on a weekly basis. She checks in and chats about how classes are going and how she’s handling all the changes in her life. We try to troubleshoot challenges as they arise.

  “Hi, Ella. How’s it going?” Scanning her face, I notice a healthy glow on her cheeks. She appeared tired, drawn, and pale the past few weeks. My heart goes out to the eighteen-year-old because these last couple of months haven’t been easy. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

  At about four months along, you wouldn’t realize Ella’s pregnant unless you already knew. She’s still quite slender. Morning sickness set in around the second month and she hasn’t been able to keep much down. There were days when she had difficulty making it to school on time. She emailed me in the morning to let me know she was too nauseous to leave the house. I’ve done my best to run interference with teachers regarding her absences. Most have been flexible because they know Ella is a diligent, hardworking student.

  While many students choose to take it easy their senior year, Ella challenged herself with two AP courses. Before the pregnancy, Ella didn’t have any problems handling those classes along with the others in her course load—Spanish V, Anatomy, Literature, and Psychology. But now, she’s struggling. Even though it broke her heart to stop training, she couldn’t continue with such a rigorous schedule. It wasn’t unheard of for Ella to spend twenty hours a week in the pool, often having two-a-day practices and dryland training. Without that, she has more time to dedicate to her studies.

  And sleep.

  She’s been doing a lot of that lately as well.

  “The morning sickness is getting better. My doctor prescribed some medicine last week, and that’s helped a lot with the nausea.”

  “I can tell. You have more color in your cheeks.”

  “I’m still really tired, but at least I can keep my breakfast down in the morning.” She cracks a wry grin.

  “That’s always a bonus. Are you having any trouble with your classes?” I try to stay preventative and nip problems in the bud before they get out of control. It’s always easier to stay ahead of the train than be run over by it. “You’re keeping up with homework and studying?” I know AP Calc and AP Physics have been a challenge for her. Both classes are college-level courses that require a great deal of work outside the classroom.

  “Now that I’m not swimming, I have more time for studying.” With a small smile, she muses, “I’ve swum almost every day since I was five years old. It’s weird to have so much free time on my hands.” Sadness creeps into her eyes. “I really miss it. A few days ago, I stopped by the pool and watched practice for about thirty minutes. It sucks not to be in the water.”

  “I know,” I say softly, wanting to acknowledge her feelings. Change is difficult. Giving up something you love, or at least putting it on hold, isn’t easy. “You can still get in the water and swim. As long as your doctor says it’s okay, swimming is a great pregnancy exercise.”

  She shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “No,” I agree, “it wouldn’t. But there’s no reason you can’t get back into competitive swim after the baby is born.”

  Her mouth trembles. “I know. My parents keep saying the same thing.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. Your mom and dad have been so supportive through all this.”

  She blows out a breath. “Yeah, my mom and dad have been the best. I thought they’d be angry after they found out about the baby. I imagined they’d kick me out of the house or…” she trails off. “I don’t know, hate me or something.” Ella shakes her head before continuing. “But that hasn’t happened. They were just really disappointed that Collin and I weren’t more careful about birth control.”

  I can only imagine what her parents are going through. To have your daughter all set to swim at the D1 level with a partial scholarship to pay for college and then have it disappear in the blink of an eye must be tough to stomach. Thankfully her parents are focused on the positives and have been wonderful about helping Ella through this pregnancy. Because Ella has such a strong support system, she’ll be able to achieve anything she sets her mind to.

  Ella glances at the digital clock hanging above my office door. “AP physics is about to start. I should probably get going. I don’t want to miss anything.”

  Mrs. Schmidt, Ella’s AP physics teacher, was a little prickly about making allowances for Ella in the beginning. She’s an older educator who’s set in her ways. She expects students who choose to take her class to dedicate themselves and be self-motivated. But she eventually came around because she saw how hard Ella is working.

  Ella gives me a small wave and hurries out the door.

  I sit back in my chair and take a long drink from my bottle of water, sighing because it’s already one in the afternoon and I haven’t had a chance to eat lunch.

  There are two hours left before the final bell, and I still have a ton of schedules to plow through. As usual, the day is flying by. It’s one of the things I love about this job. There’s never a dull moment and every day is different.

  I take a quick glance at my calendar. I have a student appointment scheduled in thirty minutes. Since it’s quiet, I can use this time to check over grade reports. There are about a dozen students I’m keeping an eye on. I prefer to catch them before they get to the point of failing.

  There’s a soft rap on the door as I pull up the first student’s file on my computer. A tall man with an easy smile fills the doorway.

  Drew.

  “I just finished lunch duty and thought I’d pop in to see if you were busy. I haven’t been able to catch you in a couple of weeks,” he says, leaning against the jamb.

  Drew is a handsome guy with dark blond hair, green eyes, and sun-kissed skin. Looking at him makes me think of sun and surf. He’s not from California but has surfer boy good looks. From conversations we’ve had in the past, I know he prefers spending his time outdoors hiking, fishing, golfing, and biking. Drew has an athletic build, which makes sense since he has an active lifestyle.

  He’s wearing khakis paired with a blue and white striped button-down. School employees are not allowed to wear jeans or T-shirts to work. The administration wants us to dress professionally.

  From the gossip I’ve heard, several single female teachers in the building are actively trying to snag Drew’s interest. Yet it’s me who he continually seeks out. A few women have stopped by my office under the pretense of discussing student concerns before finally asking about my relationship status with him. I’m always adamant that we’re just friends and colleagues.

  Maybe Drew would like for there to be more, but at the moment, there isn’t.

  Whenever we’re together, I compare Drew to one specific man. Even though Drew has
a ton of amazing qualities, it’s Roman who makes my pulse quicken. Which is beyond frustrating. There’s nothing less productive than harboring feelings for someone who will never regard you in the same manner.

  Just thinking about it makes me want to slam my forehead against my desk. How pathetic am I? It’s not like I don’t recognize the problem. Trust me, I’m totally aware of it. But I feel powerless to do anything to change it.

  I smile and wave Drew into my office. “I’m glad you did.”

  He grins in response, looking boyishly handsome, and settles onto one of the chairs on the other side of my desk. “You must be overrun with students. Every time I drop by, your door is closed.”

  “The spring semester is always busy. I’ve been meeting with students over course conflicts in next year’s schedule. It’s eating up a lot of my time. There are so many loose ends to wrap up before graduation. Not to mention, I have two seniors who are touch-and-go right now.”

  He nods. “I’m sure it’ll get busier before it winds down and then you’ll have a well-deserved reprieve.”

  A few months of rest and relaxation sounds like heaven. As much as I love my job, it’s nice to recharge my batteries before heading back to work in the fall. I’ve applied to take two graduate-level counseling courses at a local university over summer break and have been kicking around the idea of starting a PhD program. Eventually, I’d like to work in a private practice focusing on kids and teens.

  Changing the subject, he asks, “How was your weekend? Did you do anything interesting?”

  Roman’s sharp features flash through my head. I almost grimace in response, but keep my smile in place. Sweeping him from my thoughts, I say, “My parents hosted an engagement party for my brother and his fiancée. A lot of family I don’t get to see very often came. My sister flew in from Philadelphia, and other relatives came in from New York. I had a nice time reconnecting with everyone.”