Page 27 of Double Fault

“You got it.”

In the room, I send her to take a shower, then place an order for our food—spaghetti for her and a ham and cheese toastie for me.

As I was perusing the menu, I decided toastie might be my new favorite word.

With an hour’s wait for dinner, I hop in the shower in the en suite attached to my room so I can scrub the sweat off my body. Maddie is old enough to bathe on her own, and she doesn’t need constant attention, but I still don’t want to fuck this up, so I’m in and out in five minutes flat. Then I quickly change into a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt.

From outside her room, I can hear the sound of the shower running. Relieved, I let out a long breath, then unlock my phone, figuring now is a good time to respond to the several messages Lucy sent this morning. She wants to know how things are going, what the city is like, and whether I like the clothes she forced me to purchase. It’ll be strange, being in two totally different time zones most of the time.

Once I’ve responded to all her inane questions, I check my email.

Junk.

Junk.

Junk.

Interview requested.

I click on the email, curiosity swirling inside me. I’ve applied for what has to be one hundred jobs over the last several months, so the identity of the sender doesn’t immediately register with me.

Dear Ms. Howard,

We spoke regarding a position in the English department at our school but unfortunately went a different route. We will be interviewing for another position soon, and because I enjoyed your clear love and passion for teaching, I wanted to reach out to see if you’d be interested in coming in. One of our district’s beloved fourth-grade teachers has decided to retire, which will leave an open spot next school year. If you’re interested, please reach out to me here or call the number below.

Thank you.

Terri Jaymes

I read the email again, trying to make sense of the words. Then I scroll down to where she’s attached more details about the specific school.

It’s basically my dream job.

I’d love to teach fourth grade, and the district is one I’d love to teach in.

But—and it’s a big but—the tennis season doesn’t end until almost December.

Not only that, but this gig pays more than I’d make even as a full-time teacher.

Sad but true.

And Ineedthe money. The kind of money Noah’s paying will go a long way in helping me pay off my student loans.

But how can I turn down my dream position? Or the chance to get my foot in the door and get that experience so many have reminded me I need?

I quickly respond, thanking Terri for the opportunity and accepting her offer to interview.

Why not? It doesn’t guarantee I’ll get the job, and even if they offer and I’ve changed my mind, I can turn it down.

Maddie comes barreling out of her bedroom, wet hair streaming behind her and comb in her hand. I’m surprised she doesn’t leave streaks in the carpet when she comes to an abrupt stop in front of me and thrusts the orange comb in my direction.

“Will you comb my hair?”

“Sure.” I take it from her. “Do you have any detangler?”

“No. My Daddy always forgets to buy it.”

“Come on.” I stand and motion for her to follow me. “We’ll have to pick some up tomorrow, but for now, we’ll use mine.”

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