“Miss Johnson?” A little hand tugs on her skirt. “Daddy or Papi isn’t here yet?”
“I was noticing that—” Romi looks around the playground. Since it’s just chilly and not cold yet on this southern November day, she brought her first-grade class outside to wait on parents and bus rides home. Neither Finn or Seth has ever been late to pick up their daughter, Charlotte or Charlie as everyone calls her. “They’ll be here, but let’s give them a couple more minutes before we call them?”
“Romi!” Harper, one of the second-grade teachers, and new friend, calls out. She comes rushing over and hands her a note. “A message.”
She unfolds the paper and as plain as the ink and paper it’s written on is a note:
Romi, the Pendleton-Knox’s won’t be able to pick up Charlie. Her emergency contact, Ian Mitchell will be by.
Donna
Of course, her stupid ex would be the emergency pick-up for his friend’s little girl. The same friend of his whose New Year’s Eve party they met at and the same little one they were finalizing the adoption papers for.
“When did they call?”
“Just now–” Harper answers. “Is everything alright?”
Instead of trying to explain everything, Romi just hands Harper the note. She scans it quickly then says, “Is that—"
Romi wonders if her laugh is as bitter as it feels. Harper meets her eyes with a sharp look as Romi shakes her head.
“Ian!” Charlie hollers before she sprints across the playground.
Still stupid tall with those same wide shoulders that made her tall five-foot-six height feel petite. His inky waves are longer than the last time she saw him, and she has to wonder if he’s even gotten a haircut since they broke up. Because it doesn’t look like it since those locks of his almost reach his shoulders.
Golden whiskey-colored eyes seek out her hazel ones. As much as she wants to run away, she knows that he would find fault with that. After all he’s still a lawyer and they like to find weaknesses in their adversaries.
Is she, his adversary?
“Romi? Charlie-girl is this your teacher? The one you always tell me about?”
“I tolded you that Ms. Romi was my teacher! She’s still so pretty like you said—”
“Come on, Charlie-bear—” she interrupts. As much as she’d like to know what else he said about her, she really doesn’t need to hear it now. “Let’s go get your stuff.” She doesn’t spare Ian a second look, but she does wait for the six-year-old to slip her hand in hers before she heads over to the shelf Principal Shields put up just for them.
Charlie’s backpack is the last one, plus it’s bright pink so no one can miss it, Romi helps Charlie to put on the straps. As usual, the little one wraps her arms around her teacher’s legs and Romi leans over to give her a hug. “Bye, Sweetheart.”
She’s not sure why it stings more than it should when Ian doesn’t look back at her, instead he pays attention to the child who chatters excitedly as she skips to keep with his stupidly long legs. At least he’s being a diligent caretaker.
Which is more than she could say about how he took care of their relationship.
“Romi? How do you know that was the same Ian Mitchell that was in the note?”
Now she doesn’t have to wonder if her laugh is bitter or not, now she can clearly hear it as chuckles. “Because he used to be mine.”