Page 10 of Perfectly Complicated
I nearly choke on the words. “Wait, she’smarried?”
Her head snaps up. “No, she’s not married. She went through an ugly divorce when she was pregnant with her daughter. Guy cheated on her with one of her friends. You knew that, didn’t you?”
“No.” I can barely get the admission out. No wonder she’s been dodging my attempts to flirt with her. “Why didn’t anyone think to mention this? You know,beforeI made a fool of myself?”
“We thought you knew,” Brax says.
“Well, I didn’t.” I drag a hand through my hair. “Now what am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, but you’d better figure out a plan before Thursday,” Brax says.
“Well, a plan isn’t the answer. I need to switch assignments. I don’t do Christmas.”
“So you’re saying this is going to go well?” Tate says with a smug smile.
“I’m saying Lauren just sentenced me to forty hours with a woman who would rather see me eaten by reindeer.”
Jaxon snorts. “At least you’ll look good in a Santa suit.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a Christmas pageant, Rourke,” Tate says. “Everyone gets a costume.”
I stare at him in horror. “That’s it. I quit.”
Miles shakes his head. “You can’t. If you don’t fulfill your hours, you’ll get penalized.”
I let out a sigh. The only way out of this is to force Janie to fire me—by being the worst Christmas pageant volunteer in the history of the school. “Then I’ll get myself kicked out of the pageant instead.”
Because if Janie Bennett doesn’t kill me, I’m pretty sure Christmas will.
FOUR
Janie
I definitely don’t get paid enough to do this job. I plop down on one of the kid-sized chairs in my kindergarten class and kick off my boots with a sigh of relief. My classroom always runs the hottest in the building, and after the day I’ve had, I feel like I’ve been running a marathon in heels.
I prop a foot on my knee and remove my sock. “Ow,” I mutter, pressing my thumbs into my aching feet. The massage feels like heaven after wrangling twenty-two kindergartners.
First there was Preston’s meltdown when José accidentally ripped his coloring page. Then Emmalynn had an accident because I was too distracted to notice her doing the “potty dance.” And then Jack threw up right in the middle of “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” because he’s allergic to strawberries.
Just another Thursday in kindergarten paradise.
I tug my cardigan off and toss it on my desk, then check my watch. Twenty minutes until rehearsal starts. Despite today’s chaos, the Christmas lights I’ve strung up twinkle softly and the smell of the pine garland I hung after school makes the entire room smell like a Christmas tree.
Every year, the Christmas pageant is the highlight of my calendar—the one night when our tiny school stage transformsinto a magical holiday scene and the whole town shows up to watch our kids fumble their lines and sing with the kind of enthusiasm that makes your heart swell. Even though Mrs. Smith retired after thirty years of directing it, I couldn’t let the tradition die. And honestly? I need the extra income to pay our bills.
At first I thought we might have to cancel when Mr. Johnson, our usual Santa, fell and had to have hip surgery. But Principal Callahan found us a prominent local celebrity who’s apparently “very committed to community service.” Probably someone from the town council or maybe that nice dentist who sponsors the Little League team.
Whoever it is, we’ll make it work, even if our “celebrity” is the guy who fixes cars at the local garage. Christmas is my favorite thing in the world, and I won’t let anything—oranyone—ruin it.
A knock sounds at my door just as I’m pulling scripts from my bag. “Come in!” I call, frantically looking around for my boots. Where did I kick them?
“Is this where practice is?”
The voice stops me cold. I know that voice. It’s haunted my dreams ever since that night I sang karaoke with him.
No, no, no. It can’t be.
