Teacher I Want To Date Read online

  After dinner, Mason gave me a tour of the house, and I was floored at the enormity of it all. There were multiple fireplaces in the house, a home theater that felt like you were in mini movie theater, a billiards room that functioned as a rec room too, a home gym with top-of-the-line equipment, and a library that I wanted to live in with its endless wall of books.

  He left me in the study to use the washroom. I bent down and took in the family photos on the circular table in the center of the room. Mason and his brothers with their parents. One of his parents alone.

  A pang hit the center of my chest. These boys had known loss I’d never known. Even though I had lost my father, I couldn’t exactly miss a man who had abandoned me. Mason’s parents hadn’t chosen to leave; they’d been taken. There was one picture of Charles with the girls and a woman who wasn’t Becky. Of all of them, Charles had experienced the most loss. He was happy now with Becky, but I was sure there had been a time when he felt all was lost.

  “She looks exactly like Mary.”

  I jumped back, startled, and turned around to see Brad holding a glass with dark-colored liquor. “You scared me. I thought you were Mason.”

  “I’m the better-looking, upgraded model.” He smirked and ran one hand through his hair for exaggerated effect.

  I laughed. “I’m not sure about that.”

  He placed a hand on his heart. “You offend me, Miss Cruz.”

  He walked over to where I stood and lifted a picture of his parents.

  We were silent for a beat, and then he spoke, “I miss them.” All humor erased from his features, and there was a sadness in his tone that shot straight to my heart.

  A breath escaped me. “I’m so sorry.”

  I simply stared at the photo. The love and happiness in their eyes was undeniable and all-consuming. They were staring at each other, not at the camera, a candid shot.

  “It hit us all hard. But especially Mason. He was the baby, the spoiled one.” He let out a small laugh. “He was also the one who cried the most, cried for months.” He blankly stared at the picture as though he was reliving it all. “He went through a rough patch … but he got through it.” He placed the photo frame back. “Their love is what he strives for, what we all strive for. It was like they couldn’t live without each other, so they had to go together.” Brad straightened, breaking out of his trance. “It’s good to see Mason genuinely smile again. Thanks for that, Gabby.” He tipped his glass toward me and took a swig of his drink.

  The thought that I had put a genuine smile on Mason’s face made my heart flip and flop and flop and flip. “He does the same for me.”

  Brad leaned in, mischief clouding his features. “See, my brother, he’s the biggest pain in my ass.” He took another swig of his drink. “But he’s still my brother. And here’s the thing about Mason: when he falls hard … you can hear it, the earth shaking, the ground breaking, the thud on the floor. He doesn’t fall in love often, but when he does, he’ll do anything to make it work. I just want him to be happy and have the girl be worthy of him. ’Cause he’s a good guy, and when he loves … he’ll love you with everything he has.”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t know if I was ready for that—to fall in love, to be in love. I was still reeling from the betrayal of my last relationship.

  But I could see it—what Brad was talking about. When Mason loved, he loved with his whole being, giving himself fully, even when it was crazy at times. I could see it in how he loved his nieces, how he loved his family.

  “Hey. Step away from the beautiful lady. You have one of your own.” Mason’s voice echoed through the room, and though his words were meant to be light, his eyes narrowed. “What kind of lies has my brother been telling you about me?”

  When he was close, he wrapped an arm around my lower back, and the nearness of him caused my pulse to tick up in speed.

  “Brad here was paying me for dealing with you. I’ll want my retainer at the end of the month.” I winked.

  Brad pointed a finger my way and shot it like a gun. “You got it. Teach him how to merengue, and I’ll double that.” He winked back, making his way toward the door. “I have to go check on my baby mama.”

  Mason wrapped both hands fully around my lower back, bringing me in closer, nuzzling my neck. “Come over tonight,” he said, his warm breath skating across my skin, causing shivers to run down my spine.

  “Again?”

  His nearness caused my senses to spin. I gripped his arms tighter, to steady myself against the dizzying current taking over my body.

  “Yes. Again. Unless you have room for me at your place.”

  I laughed a breathless laugh. “Let me remind you that I live with my mother and two sisters.”

  He dug his fingers into my waist, causing a pleasure of pain to hit deep in my gut.

  “Please.” He pulled back and cupped my face, scouring it with the intenseness of his gaze. “I’m not ready for this day to end.”

  He’d said the same thing yesterday.

  “Okay. Okay, fine,” I said, kissing his lips, making it seem like a chore, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  Because I didn’t want this day to end either, but I was scared of what might happen if we moved too quickly.

  Chapter 19

  Mason

  The weekend was over, and it was back to the regular grind of work and sleep and work until I would finally get to see Gabby again.

  She’d left my place, telling me that she needed to go home, see her mama, see her sisters. I had asked her if I could come with, but she’d snickered as though I was kidding. I was not. She didn’t know me well enough to know that I didn’t kid often. She’d said we’d see each other during the weekend, and the weekend couldn’t get here fast enough.

  It was fine though because there was something I needed to do, and I had tried to do it days ago, but I was getting avoidance from the teenager as though avoiding me was the in thing to do.

  Sarah would be home today. No band practice. No meeting for the Halloween dance. Nothing other than her homework and laundry day. Like me, Sarah was a creature of habit.

  I walked into the house, and there she was, just as I had suspected she would be, sitting at the kitchen table, doing math homework.

  She was alone.

  She lifted her head, but then her head went back into her book. Great. Now, we weren’t on speaking terms. How she’d been on Sonia’s birthday, cordial at least, was apparently all for show.

  Enough of this shit.

  I pulled out a seat and sat right in front of her. She still didn’t lift her head. Stubborn little girl, just like her uncle. I blew out a breath and pulled her book from under her nose. We stared at each other, and both of her brows lifted as if to say, What?

  She looked so much like Charles that it was eerie, but she was so much like me in our mannerisms, how we thought, how we were both socially awkward, that I swore she might as well be my twin.

  The heater blasted in the background, and the clock ticked in the far distance. We simply stared at each other, waiting to see who would break first.

  I lifted one eyebrow and alternated lifting the other. I closed one eye and then opened the other eye. Maybe I could make her laugh and break the fierce determination in her to stay mad at me.

  “Uncle Mason …” She sighed. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to stop being mad at me.”

  “I’m not mad.” Her lips pursed in the most stubborn way, and for a brief second, she reminded me of Mary.

  “You’re not?” I tapped my fingers on the table, waiting for her to lie to my face.

  “Fine, I’m mad. But there’s nothing you can do.” She reached for the book, but I pulled it back.

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s not like you’re not going to date Miss Cruz. You’re not going to give her up. I’ve seen you with her.” Her voice was calm and even where I, on the other hand, couldn’t breathe.

  Shit. Is
she telling me this was the only way that she’d forgive me? Did I have an option in this matter?

  “Sarah …” My voice was soft, pleading. “Are people giving you a hard time at school because of me dating her?”

  ’Cause, shit, I wouldn’t wish that on Sarah. Could I wait a year until Sarah graduated and she was no longer a student of Gabby’s?

  She folded her arms over her chest and leaned back on her chair. “They’re not.”

  “Then”—I ran one shaky hand through my hair—“why is it a problem that I date her?”

  “You just don’t get it.” She reached for the book in my hand and gripped it hard. We were playing tug-of-war with it now, her math book—Algebra—one we enjoyed together.

  “Then, tell me, how can I make this better?”

  She won. She stood, book in hand, anger displayed on her features. “I want you to stop creeping up in every aspect of my life. Stop following me, giving me advice, and trying to pretend like you understand me when you don’t. And yes, stop dating my teacher!”

  She stormed off without a second glance, and I stared at where she’d just left. I let my head hit the table … one … two … three times.

  “You okay there?” Becky came in, carrying a pile of papers, and dropped them on the kitchen table.

  “If okay being that my niece hates my guts, then yeah. I’m just fine and dandy.” I sighed. “Why are teenagers so complicated?”

  The chair screeched when she pulled it out and sat down next to me. She lightly patted my hand and scrunched her nose. “Because … they just are. Don’t you remember when you were a teenager?”

  I did. I’d loved school. I’d loved my girlfriend. I was horny half the time, but other than that, I had been an obedient kid. Brad had been a different story, constantly in and out of detention. Charles had been semi-rebellious, semi-obedient. He’d had a wild side that only adulthood, grief, and fatherhood had managed to tame. Me? Yeah, I’d gotten in trouble, but those times had been few and infrequent. Sarah didn’t really get in trouble either, but the moodiness was fucking killer.

  Becky added, “If it makes you feel better, she hates everyone. It’s the stage where she’s irritable, and every little thing we do annoys her. Mary can’t talk to her without her blowing up. Charles has had it with her. She’s grounded right now. Did you know that?”

  “For what?”

  “Mouthing off.”

  That didn’t surprise me. Especially given how she’d been acting recently.

  “Mason, you have to give her time.” She smiled slightly, and I read certainty in her eyes, one I’d only ever seen in my own mother’s. “She’s going through a lot of changes, and it’ll be worse next year when she’s in high school. We just have to let her adjust, become comfortable in her own skin. She’s getting to know herself more as a young adult, and that’s life-changing.”

  I nodded. Made sense. I knew the teenage years were the most formidable in a child’s life.

  “And that means leaving her alone to do it.” With her fingertip, she opened the first piece of mail in front of her. “It means not crowding her. She does have a point, Mason.”

  I blew out a breath. “Fine, fine. I won’t stalk her and her friends at the mall.” I figured since Brad knew, everyone knew what I’d done at this point.

  “She’s going to date,” Becky said pointedly, as if I had to get used to it. “As long as she’s not having sex or making out behind the football bleachers, I’m good with her hanging out with boys.”

  “I’m not okay with this.” My nostrils flared as I thought about boys hitting on my niece.

  “Well”—she gave me a pointed stare—“you need to be. Because it’s happening whether we want it to or not, and how you react, how we all react, will dictate whether we know about it or not.”

  The idea of Sarah keeping secrets terrified me. She used to tell me practically everything. The way our relationship was going, I imagined she’d never tell me anything anymore. I had to get our relationship back where it used to be.

  I pulled a piece of paper from her stack on the table. It was a drawing that Mary had made of the family. Me, Brad, her parents, and Sarah. I frowned, noticing I had an unusually big head. “Why does she always draw me like this?”

  Becky laughed. “Because she always says you have a big brain. That’s the only thing I can think of.”

  Nostalgia hit me in the chest, bringing me back to when Sarah had been in the first grade. My breathing slowed as a memory came to the surface. Walking her to her class with our whole family. Her Barbie backpack and her pigtails with bows on them. She’d given us all a hug before we left her, and I’d squeezed her extra tight that day, knowing she was anxiety-ridden with tears in her eyes.

  “Sarah used to do the same thing. She used to draw the whole family, and I was always right by her. She’d even draw a heart around us.”

  My heart tightened at the thought of us drifting apart. We’d had a special bond, even at a young age.

  “Mason …” Becky ducked to get back into my line of sight. “It won’t be like this forever. It’s just a stage. A not-so-fun stage.” She placed a soft hand over mine and squeezed. “And it’ll be over before you know it, and you’ll be two peas in a pod again, watching HGTV and Top Chef.”

  I peered up at her with a hopefulness I felt and needed. “Promise?” My voice was vulnerable, but I didn’t care. I didn’t hold back with my family.

  “I promise.” Becky smiled with a confidence that she just knew it to be true, a confidence of a mother, and that saying that mothers knew best pushed through.

  My shoulders eased a bit.

  “What do I do about Gabby?” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Sarah told me she didn’t want me to date her.”

  Becky scoffed and reeled back. “And you’re going to listen to a hormonal teenager who changes her mind twenty times in a minute? You’re telling me you’re letting Gabby go?”

  “No.” I couldn’t imagine letting her go, just when I was getting to know her.

  “No. You’d be stupid if you did. That girl is charming as hell. Plus”—Becky stood from her spot—“she’s the right fit for you, Mason. Trust me on this one. I know.”

  She turned to throw her sorted mail in the recycling bin while my thoughts flew to Gabby and my need to see her again.

  * * *

  Three weeks. Three weeks since our salsa date, and I still didn’t have an official we’re together date.

  We’d had endless laughter over dinner and good conversation, watched a slew of reality TV and Netflix, and had the best sex ever over the last three weeks, yet we were still not officially together.

  I’d asked her a week in, and the second week in, and now, it was the third week in, and every time I asked, it was, “What happened to taking it a day at a time?” Now, we were taking it weeks at a time. Soon, we’d be taking it years at a time.

  I glanced at my watch and rushed out of my condo so I could pick up Gabby for our afternoon date.

  I was almost to my car, my hand on the car door, when I heard someone call my name. When I turned, Janice was coming toward me, walking from her car.

  Shit.

  “Hey.” She approached, and her eyes took in my attire. She wore her designer jeans and a fitted white T-shirt. Her hair was up in a bun for once, as though she’d come here last minute. “I like the color of that shirt.” Her smile was forced, but I could read the melancholy look in her eye.

  I silently sighed. I didn’t want to do this again. Not to her. Not to me.

  “Janice …” My voice trailed off.

  She walked toward me, her eyes glistening again with tears. I knew her like the back of my hand. The last thing she wanted to do was cry. It wasn’t in her make-up, but I could see it. She was on the verge.

  She placed one red-manicured finger on my chest. “I miss you, Mason.” When she peered up at me with her piercing emerald-green eyes, I could remember how and why I’d fallen in love with her. She was the
beautiful Barbie with her blondish locks and stunning eyes, her Harvard degree, and a fierce determination to succeed in everything that she put her mind to. I’d been her Ken.

  But that had been before, and this was now.

  I took a step back, and her hand dropped from my chest. And that was when the first of her tears fell. It wasn’t the usual angry tears I was used to seeing. I could have taken that but not this.

  “Hey.” I swiped at her tears and then realized it was a bad idea to touch her. It’d give her the wrong message, and that was the last thing I needed to do. Part of this was my fault, giving her false hope, sleeping with her, letting her into my place when I’d said time and time again that we were done. “We’re just not meant to happen. What I want and what you want are too different.”

  She shook her head, and more tears fell. She usually tried to hide her crying but not this time. “I want what you want. I’ll give you whatever you want.” Her voice shook with unhidden emotion, a vulnerability I hardly ever saw pushed to the surface.

  I bent down to meet her eyes. “Don’t you see? That’s not how life or a relationship should be. You shouldn’t have to give up your dreams, your future, just for me. You want to travel the world and climb mountains—literally. Me? I want to have a family—a big one—go to Disney every year, and stay home and organize my closet.”

  I smiled for her benefit, but her tears continued to flow.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

  I took another step back, needing to think clearly. I wouldn’t be with her because I felt sorry for her, so I told her the truth, “If we were to end up together, you’d hate me, and I’d hate you.”

  I knew it. I felt it in my gut. She’d be miserable, raising kids because I’d wanted them, and I’d feel this overwhelming guilt for allowing her to live a life just to please me.

  I offered her a slight smile, my voice softening. “I want you to climb Mount Rainier one day, and I want you to do every big marathon there is. I’d just get in your way. We’re two different people.”