CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THE BRADLEY LOBBY VIBRATED WITH POST-VACATION ENERGY OF tanned people explaining how they got that way. But the knot in Sean’s stomach distracted him from the spectacle. He’d been up all night wondering how it would be to see Jess again and now, tunneling through the crowd, he tried to form an expression that didn’t reveal how devastated he’d been by the blowoff. He was just a father picking up his son. He needed to untense his shoulders and pretend he’d never ripped off her clothes. “I can do this,” he said to himself like a mantra. He wondered if any of the tanned parents could tell he was a nervous wreck.

From across the room, he watched Jess dismiss the kids one at a time. Walking toward them, he saw her pale skin glow next to the orange-brown skin of Kayla’s mom. Toby waved and Sean slipped into line next to him. “Hey Buddy. How was your first day back?”

He shrugged. “Okay.”

The cloud of vanilla and musk coming off Kayla’s mom caught in Sean’s throat and he coughed, causing Jess to look up and notice him. When her eyes met his, he could have sworn she blushed for a second. He smiled at her, which he hadn’t exactly planned. She looked away.

“How was your break?” Kayla’s mom was asking Jess, in a voice far too deep to be coming from her skeletal body.

“I was in Rhode Island with my dad and my fiancé,” Jess said. “We had a nice New England Christmas.” So the Invasion of the Bodysnatchers guy was back in the picture. His eyes flashed to the ring on her finger. It was all making nauseating sense.

“St. Maarten’s was ninety degrees,” Kayla’s mom said. “Not Christmas-y at all. But we had a nice time.”

Not that he knew what he’d say when he and Toby reached Jess, but the waiting was killing him. Now Dylan was giving her a presidential handshake, looking her right in the eye. When Dylan’s Caribbean sitter whisked him away, it was Toby’s turn. They were last in line.

“Bye Jess,” Toby said, giving her a perfunctory handshake. Jess shook his hand then flashed Sean a fleeting smile that packed a lot in: regret, wistfulness, kindness, and even, he thought, a hint of longing. It was possible he was reading too much into it.

“How’ve you been?” He tried to sound like a regular parent. One who hadn’t explored every inch of her naked body.

“Fine,” she said. Her eyes darted away briefly. “How was your break?”

The chitchat was practically unbearable. “It started out well, but the rest of it was just so-so.”

She took a breath and held it before letting it out slowly.

“I sent you a couple of emails.”

“Sorry, I’m pretty backlogged.”

“It’s about Toby,” he said, enjoying the small pleasure of being able to play the parent card. “It’s kind of important.”

“Oh.” This had taken her off guard. It would derail her from whatever script she’d prepared. “Okay.” She looked at her watch. “I have about ten minutes.”

Toby waited in the library while Sean followed Jess to her classroom.

She pulled an adult-size chair next to her desk, and he sat on it. Her eyes looked everywhere but at him. Finally she focused on him, business-like. “We should probably deal with … what happened.”

“What happened was great,” he said. She was so close he could reach out and touch her. Except, of course, he couldn’t.

“This relationship,” she started, “our relationship—has to be strictly parent-teacher.”

He knew it had been coming, but it sucked hearing it, nonetheless. “Okay.” He nodded. “So … you two are back together?”

She fiddled with the ring. “I feel awful. This whole mess is completely my fault.”

Fault was a tough word. It implied a deep crack that couldn’t be mended. “I don’t know about that. I’d like to think we can both take credit for what happened. And for the record, I don’t see it as a mess.”

“Still …” she said.

“I do have a parent-teacher thing to discuss.”

“Oh.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Okay.”

He told her about giving Toby the Metattent Junior. Her mouth gaped slightly. “The doctor suggested that?” Her tone was strange.

“Why?” he said. “You don’t think he needs it?”

“No.” She said it quickly. Emphatically. Then she backed off. “I mean, look. I’m not a doctor. I can’t make a diagnosis. But Toby’s … he’s not what I’d call ADD.”

“But …” It was what he’d wanted to hear all along. “They’re calling it inattentive-type ADD. Because he gets distracted in class.”

“Yeah, well I call that being a kid.” She sighed. “Sorry, this is just one of those things that drives me crazy.”

“No, I want to hear what you think. I need to hear it.”

“I can see medicating kids who need it—kids who jump off walls and kick and scream during class. I’ve seen drugs help kids like that. It’s amazing, actually. But in general …” She trailed off. “Look, a lot of boys can have trouble sitting and listening. They get there, though.”

Maybe Altherra had been wrong. Toby would get there.

“Do you think I should stop giving him the pills?”

“God, don’t ask me that.” She looked nervous. “I’m not a doctor. I don’t have a clue what the right thing to do is.”

He’d made this decision already. And it hadn’t been easy. “Will you keep an eye on him? Tell me if the medication is helping at all?”

“Of course.” She wrote her number on a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Let’s talk in the afternoons. I’m here until five.”

He folded the paper and put it in his wallet, then tried to see what was going on behind her eyes. “How are you doing?”

The smile looked more sad than happy. “I’m okay. I’m good.” She got up and held out her hand. “I’ll be in touch. About Toby.”