Page 73 of The Billionaire's Teacher

When I was behind the wheel, I dug out the email and opened it. Zee had gotten in touch with Sunshine. Was that because I’d been obnoxious? I’d been going for persistent, but maybe I’d crossed the line. Of course, I’d also hoped I could just get Sunshine while she was there and have a minute to hear her voice.

Which was also why I’d suggested maybe Zee could give Sunshine my number.

Did Sunshine choosing to email instead mean something? And she’d emailed my work. Was that a brush-off? Her words could certainly be interpreted that way. They were a breezy, “Hey, I’m fine. Why’re you bugging Zee?” That was definitely the vibe.

But then at the bottom, she’d signed it “Yours.” Not “sincerely”, which was usually what I went with on professional emails. Or, I guess, the old standby of “thanks.”

Maybe “yours” was Sunshine’s default?

Ugh. I was overthinking. Massively.

I folded the email back up and dropped it into one of the cupholders in the console. Then I started the car and headed toward the best wings in the area.

It took longer than I’d expected, between a long wait for a takeout order—note to self: call ahead next time—and excessive summertime Friday night traffic. But finally, I was able to squeeze into a parallel parking spot near Tristan’s building. I grabbed the takeout bag and then, after a quick internal debate, Sunshine’s email, and got out of the car.

“Hey, Wes. You’re running late too.” Scott jogged a few steps to catch up with me. “I was worried I’d be the last one.”

“I stopped for wings.” I held up the bag. “I imagine Tristan is going to suggest pizza.”

“He always does. Wings go good with pizza.” Scott paused and grunted. “Wings gowellwith pizza.”

I shot him a glance with eyebrows raised. “Do I need to worry about holding out my pinky when I drink my soda now?”

Scott glared as he reached for the door into Tristan’s building. “Whitney’s on a bit of a tear. I guess Beckett’s grammar isn’t as wonderful as she wants it to be when he goes to kindergarten.”

“Kindergarten?” I glanced over as we crossed the lobby to the elevators. “He can’t be ready for kindergarten.”

“That is almost exactly what I said when Whitney started on about making sure we were modeling correct language usage. Then she pointed out that we have, in fact, celebrated his fifth birthday.”

“And that means kindergarten.” I shook my head as the elevator doors opened. I walked in, holding them as Scott followed, then punched the button for Tristan’s floor. “Are you going public?”

“That’s the next question. The schools here are…”

I nodded. Scott didn’t have to finish the sentence. This area was a bizarre mix of professionals who could afford the historic homes and riverfront views and families who barely made ends meet with considerable government assistance. The families who could afford it, usually sent their kids to private schools. Meaning that the public schools were left to struggle.

And they did.

“Have you talked to Austin and Kayla?” If anyone could give Scott good advice about making a smart choice for school, it would be the two former public school teachers. They believed in the school system, and in doing what they could to help the students—all of them—succeed.

“Not yet. I thought I might mention it tonight and see if Austin had a gut reaction. Maybe he and Kayla are even talking about it, since they’ll have one of their own before too long.” Scott shrugged.

“What’s Whitney thinking?” The elevator stopped and the doors opened. I stepped into the hall and started toward Tristan’s door.

“She’s all over the place. She’s even looking into homeschooling. I don’t know.” Scott knocked on Tristan’s door, then twisted the handle and pushed it open. “It’s us.”

“You’re late!” That was Cody.

I snickered and followed Scott in. “Like you’re never late, Cody.”

“Never. Ever. Not even one time.” Cody grinned, then his gaze zeroed in on the bag I carried. “But you brought wings, so you’re forgiven.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” I made a show of dragging my hand across my forehead.

“I walked in with the wings, does that excuse me?” Scott plopped onto the couch beside Cody.

“No. You didn’t even carry a watermelon.” Cody shook his head. “Sorry man. You’re on the list.”

Austin rose from his seat and ambled over to the island where I was setting out the wings. “Aren’t you the king of that list, Cody? He’s in good company.”

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