Make You Miss Me by B. Celeste
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Ishoot the two women a narrowed gaze when I show up at the community center that holds our yoga class and get unapologetic grins back from both Vickie and Sonia. Ever since the two met at the winter carnival, they’ve been thick as thieves, making our usual twosome a very energetic and mischievous threesome. “You ditched me,” I accuse, holding open the door for them and following them inside.
Our mats are all tucked under our arms, and we’re all in some form of yoga attire. I know when Vickie strips off her coat, she’ll be in a tight sports bra that shows off her impressive, perky C-cups and tight pants that hug her bubble butt and curvy hips. She always winks at the older guys who come in and set up next to where we do, and I’m pretty sure the only reason they attend these classes is because of my flirty friend. Sonia has only been to one other class, but we decided then it’d be a good way for all of us to hang out and relax after long weeks since the classes are always on Sunday mornings. Unlike Vickie, Sonia and I usually wear something a little more modest. I can’t speak for my coworker, but I just don’t have the confidence to wear what Vickie does. There’d be a little too many rolls on view in plenty of the poses.
“We didn’t ditch you,” my best friend says, unzipping her jacket once we set out mats down in our usual spots by the door.
Sonia nods. “We were trying to get your attention because you weren’t texting us back.”
“But then,” Vickie continues, a grin stretching her lips until she looks like the Joker’s demented sister, “we saw a certain man take you to the bar and buy you a drink.”
“And we couldn’t interrupt.” Sonia gives me a knowing look. She’s seen Fletcher at the school a handful of times by now and knows who his son is. “You totally lied when you said there wasn’t a man, by the way. I knew I wasn’t losing my touch.”
Vickie pauses what she’s doing to glare at me. “You told her about him before me?”
“No, I didn’t tell her anything.”
“Because she lied,” my coworker confirms.
I sigh at their dramatics. “I didn’t lie.” I peel off my jacket and set it against the wall with my bag. “There wasn’t anything going on when you asked. There still isn’t. We had drinks and talked.” And have had dinner and hung out. “I’d hardly call that anything special.”
Even though deep down, there’s a flutter in my stomach over the possibility of it. Especially after how we left each other. He’d asked me on a date. A proper one.
Both girls eye me down as I roll out my mat and sit cross-legged on the end of it. “Stop looking at me like that,” I grumble.
“We’re just trying to figure out when you’re going to realize that you’re being a little chickenshit.” That comes from Vickie, making our other companion snort, but not disagree.
I click my tongue. “I’m not being a chickenshit.”
Neither says a thing.
“I’m not!”
Vickie sets her mat up and sits down next to me, giving me a weird look. “Fine, let’s say you’re not. But you are holding yourself back. I want you to be happy.” She gestures toward Sonia, who’s joined us on the floor. “We both do. And we know that you’ve been struggling, so we want to make sure that you’re not isolating yourself just because you’re afraid of getting hurt again. It could happen, but you know what you want and what you don’t. You’ve learned from the past, right?”
I give her a tiny nod.
“Then don’t hold yourself back. If you want to like Fletcher, then like him. You don’t need to lie or act like you don’t, especially not to us. We’re going to support you with whatever you choose. We just hope you choose to get dicked every now and again.”
Sonia nods enthusiastically when a couple of snickers and knowing grins come from some of the guys walking in. My face turns red since it’s obvious they heard. And it doesn’t help when Vickie turns to them, puts on her flirty smile, and bats her lashes, and asks, “Am I right, boys?”
To nobody’s surprise, they agree.
I mutter, “I hate you sometimes.”
She shoves my arm. “Stop lying to yourself, bitch. You love me and my foul mouth and amazing advice.”
It’s true.
Unfortunately.
I know who the woman is that’s standing at my classroom door even though we’ve never met before. But it takes one look at her to see the same soft features that a little boy who sits front and center in my room every day has. Dominic definitely doesn’t get the softness from his dad, even if he gets plenty of other traits from him.
“Ms. Foster? Stevie Foster?” the woman asks, smiling with big red lips. She has pin-straight black hair that goes well past her shoulders and colorful tattoos peeking out from the sleeves of her black peacoat jacket that go up her hand. I never let myself wonder too hard about what Nicki’s mom looked like or what Fletcher’s type was. Because if he has one, he’s definitely wasting his time with me after being with this beautiful woman with long legs, lean body, and perfectly done makeup that’s standing in my classroom doorway.
The woman in chunky heeled boots that are tucked into her black jeans walks forward when I offer her a smile and say, “That’s me.”
Instead of sticking her hand out, she opens her arms and wraps me in a tight hug the second I stand up to greet her, getting a startled “oh” from me that makes her laugh as she squeezes one more time before letting go.
“Sorry, I’m a hugger,” the ex-wife of the man I may or may not be interested in dating tells me.
When she steps away, I laugh too. “I see that. It’s nice to meet you finally.”
Her smile widens, going all the way up to her eyes. “I’m Traci Spellman, but I guess you already know that.”
“Dominic looks a lot like you.”
If she could beam anymore, she does with that compliment. “I don’t hear that very often. People say he takes after his father more.”
I shrug, trying to be casual over the topic of Fletcher. “It probably depends how much time they spend around Nicki.”
“And his parents,” she adds, her smile wavering with amusement.
I clear my throat. “Is there something I can help you with? I made sure Dominic got all of his assignments yesterday, and I’m sure his dad will help him if he needs it. But, of course, he knows he can come to me too.” Because speaking to this woman, who seems nothing but kind in the way she smiles and carries herself with confidence, makes me nervous, I feel the need to blurt, “I mean Nicki. He knows he can come to me for anything he needs. I made sure to let him know that when he came back since there may be things that he doesn’t quite understand from our lessons that he missed.”
Her laugh is featherlight, not quite matching her exterior. Even though she exuberates a gentleness, her tattoos and dark yet elegant style screams biker chick. I’m a little envious. “I know what you meant, Ms. Foster.”
“You can call me Stevie.”
“I was actually having a meeting with the principal about Nicki. She just wanted to make sure everything was going well, especially since he missed an entire week. But, as you said, I know the school will ensure he catches up without complaint.”
There’s no doubt about that. “He’s a very smart kid. So, I don’t think there will be any issues with him catching up.”
Her eyes go from me to around the classroom to the window that has open blinds looking out the yard, then back at me. “I was sorry I missed conferences you hosted, but I got the letter about there being the end-of-year parent-teacher meetings that I hope I can come to. I’m sure Fletcher wouldn’t mind a tagalong.”
“We’d love to have you both,” I offer kindly. “Not that there’s much to talk about. Thankfully, we have great students this year. Nicki has been making friends with very few setbacks. And like I mentioned, he’s smart. A wonderful student all around.”
The humming noise she makes has me shifting my weight from one foot to another. Compared to her, I feel slightly underdressed in my gray work pants, purple button-down, and black flats. But with a meeting after school, I knew I needed something a little out of my norm since I’d be around the administration and other faculty.
“I like you,” Traci states firmly. “And I can see why my son and ex-husband do too. You’ve got that face.”
Not sure what she means, I reply with a slightly weak, “Thank you.” It’s a moment before I add, “I like them both too.”
The flicker of amusement is back. “This isn’t really my place,” she says quietly, the words making me stand a little taller in alert. “But I just wanted to meet you and see if you’re as great as the men in my life say you are. Because they deserve the very best, and I’d hate to have Fletcher settle for anything less than that.”
My tongue feels heavy in my mouth, weighted down by my uncertainty and heat under her strong gaze as she studies me with a watchful eye that’s less friendly and more serious, like a warning.
“Fletch is…well, you know by now. He’s not always an easy man to please. He’s closed off and quiet and too stubborn for his own good most of the time. He looks at certain things like his duty, and I know from personal experience what that feels like. It’s not fun to feel like somebody’s responsibility, especially when you never asked to be. I’ve been worried that he’d find himself in a similar situation he did with me. Maybe not involving a kid—” Her smile becomes a little smaller, a little more sympathetic. “—but similar in the sense that he’s old-fashioned. Stuck in his ways.”
The sigh that leaves her loosens her shoulders as she looks around my room again, noting the various posters, drawings, and other creations that students have done since the beginning of the school year. “All I want is for him to be happy. Both of them. And it’s not hard to see that they are. The way he talks about you…”
“Dominic?” I ask, genuinely confused. I know Fletcher has said that Nicki comes home and talks about his days at school, so it’s not a far-off guess.
But Traci shakes her head, those painted lips curling upward slightly at the corners. “Not Nicki,” is how she answers.
“Oh.”
Traci reaches out and brushes my arm. “Meeting you in person, seeing you in your element, I know I have nothing to worry about. Maybe I should have never come to begin with, though it would only be a matter of time before we met anyway.”
“We definitely would have crossed paths here eventually,” I agree lightly.
Her laugh comes quickly, bubbled up with surprise. “Oh, Stevie. I wasn’t talking about meeting at the school, but I suppose you’re not wrong.” I look down for a moment, taking in her implication before shifting when she says, “I don’t know what your past is like.”
My eyes dart back up, widening as I study her sincere expression. “Fletcher isn’t the type of man to tell other peoples’ stories even if someone begs him to. And trust me, I’ve asked him plenty of times what your deal is. He doesn’t talk, gossip, or offer anything to anybody because he’s a private man with strong morals. So, whatever happened to you in the past, and based on the look in your eyes that I recognize, I can tell it’s something. So, as much as I want to pry, I won’t. Because my ex is right. It’s nobody’s business but your own. I just hope you can get past whatever it is before it stops you from something great.”
She pauses, eyes narrowed.
“Someone great.”
Swallowing down my reply, her hand drops from where it was placed on my arm before she takes a big step back.
I almost think she will say something else about the topic, but she chooses to go down a different route. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Foster. I look forward to seeing you again.” Her eyes twinkle like Dominic’s does when he plays with Admiral. “Both in and out of school.”