Page 28 of The Love Syllabus

“Well, you aren’t acting like a grown man,” She retorts sharply. “Get up and get my granddaughters their teacher back. Surely, you can keep your hormones at bay for their sake. Get it together right now, Victor Grimes!”

I groan, rolling my eyes in exasperation. “Fine! Let me think for a sec. I clearly can’t be around her without wanting her, so I’ll just adjust my schedule.Ifshe accepts the job, I’ll make it work. I need to start going into the office anyway. I can work there from seven to three, come home to cook dinner, wrap up some work in my study, and then spend the evening with the girls. Kerry can stay in the guest wing. That way, I can keep my distance and keep my feelings in check.”

Hudson bursts out laughing, clearly amused by my plan. “This is gonna be a beautiful disaster, but sure, Vic. Great plan. Now, go fix the mess you made.”

I leave my daughters at home, under the somewhat watchful eyes of my mom and Hudson to eat some humble pie.

First, I head to the local hardware store to pick up some tools, wood, and shelves. I haven’t built anything since…since I built one too many of Ari’s wooden dollhouses when she was a toddler. But I’m sure I can build something special for Kerry by tomorrow…I think.

After the hardware store, my next stop is Izzy’s Flower Shop. As I push open the door, the scowls from Izzy and Kiera are unmistakable. They must have heard about the trial day fiasco from Kerry.

“You’re not welcome here, Mr. Grimes.” Kiera states bluntly before I can even greet her.

Yep, she definitely told them about the trial day.

“Wait, I know—” I attempt to explain, but she cuts me off.

“I don’t want to hear it. I was relieved to think Kerry had met a decent man and even more relieved when she finally got a job offer. She’s given so much to this town yet received so little in return, and now you’ve hurt her, too.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” I reply earnestly. “She deserves better. That’s why I’m here.”

Kiera eyes me warily but nods, acknowledging my intent. “If you’re here to make things right, then show it.”

Encouraged, I ask for their help in creating a bouquet that says everything I struggle to voice. Izzy steps forward and takes over like the expert she is. “Tell me what you want to say with this bouquet.”

“I need to apologize to start,” I explain, watching as she selects white tulips, a symbol of forgiveness.

“I want to saythank youfor her patience and for caring about my family,” Izzy weaves in orchids, representing admiration. “I admire her strength, her boldness.” She then adds peonies, symbols of bravery and honor.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say?” Izzy asks, her tone gentle, urging me to open up.

I hesitate. “I... I want her to know that I think she’s beautiful. That I... I crave her presence more than anything I’ve ever wanted.”

Kiera and Izzy exchange a surprised but excited look before Izzy adds roses to the bouquet.

“This might be your best creation yet, Iz.” Kiera whispers.

“Anything for our girl,” Izzy replies, tying the bouquet together. “Kerry deserves this. And you better not mess this up, Vic.”

Grateful, I thank them and leave with the bouquet, making one last stop at a local bookshop. Remembering Kerry’s love for romance and Black literature, I purchase loads of new books to fill the library.

When we approach Kerry’s home, my nerves spike when I see a tall, decent-looking man hugging her goodbye. Jealousy flares, but Gary tries to calm me. “Easy, son. It’s probably just a friend.”

Taking a deep breath, I approach with the bouquet in hand, catching the tail end of their conversation. Kerry’s eyes widen when she sees me. “Oh my god, that’s him. That’s Victor Grimes,” She whispers to the man.

The man turns around, and I’m immediately annoyed. He looks like the damn Black Clark Kent! His confident demeanor momentarily throws me off, and my jealousy spikes. Ready to stake my claim, I puff out my chest and extend my hand first in a show of bravado.

“Victor Grimes,” I announce, trying to mark my territory. “I’m Kerry’s boyfriend.”

He looks at me, unimpressed, and Kerry can’t help but laugh at my display. “Vic, you don’t have to pretend,” she gently chides. “He knows we aren’t really dating.”

Annoyed by my own antics and her amusement, I turn to him, demanding, “And who isheexactly?”

The man smiles warmly, extending his hand, which I regard warily. “I’m Dr. Watkins, Kerry’s therapist.”

I hesitate, my hand in mid-air as I process this. “And you make house visits to all your patients?” I ask, suspicion threading through my tone.

Sensing the tension, Dr. Watkins offers a comforting smile. “Only for a select few.” He clarifies, his tone reassuring.

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