Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You
Chapter 157: An Excuse

Chapter 157: An Excuse

Rebecca

"Okay, everyone, what sound does a cow make?" I ask with exaggerated enthusiasm, holding up a picture card.

"Mooooo!" the kids chorus, some of them giggling, a few dragging it out like a dramatic opera.

I grin and flash the next card. "And what about a duck?"

"Quack! Quack! Quack!" shouts Tyler from the front row, flapping his arms like wings.

"Very good, my little ducklings," I say, suppressing a laugh. "Now, who wants to come up and match the animal to the sound?"

A sea of tiny hands shoots into the air, some kids hopping in place, desperate to be picked. I call on Lucy, who marches up proudly and sticks the duck card onto the sound chart with all the seriousness of a surgeon.

"Perfect match," I say, giving her a high-five. "You’re all doing amazing today. After we finish our chart, we can go outside for story time under the big tree. Sound good?"

A cheer erupts from the group. A few kids bounce in place, one accidentally knocking over a tub of crayons. As I crouch to help him clean up, my phone buzzes in my cardigan pocket.

I glance at the screen.

1 New Text Message

Unknown Number: "I have something of yours." – Marcus

My hand stills above a green crayon.

I put my phone down face-first on the craft table and straighten up with a pasted-on smile. "Okay, kids! Back to the rug for our animal book!"

They scatter like confetti, plopping down on the alphabet carpet, some already flipping through picture books while waiting.

While they settle in, I sneak another look at my phone.

"My self-respect and dignity? I think I left them there on purpose," I type back quickly.

The kids are mostly occupied, arguing over who gets to hold the giant plush llama during story time.

Buzz.

"Very funny."

I stare at the message, heart tapping a little faster.

"Whatever it is, you can give it to Hailey. She is due to visit her family here anyway," I write and hit Send.

Tyler accidentally elbows Mia in the face during the llama dispute, and I swoop in with my teacher voice. "Let’s remember to be gentle. Everyone gets a turn."

Mia sniffles. I hand her the llama and whisper, "You get to be queen for this story."

That earns a tiny smile.

My phone buzzes again.

"It’s not something I can leave with Hailey."

I raise my eyebrow. Can’t leave with Hailey? "What is it?" I type.

"Your earring," he replies faster than I can breathe.

My earring?

I try to picture what I was wearing that night. It had been a blur—somewhere between reckless and stupid.

Then, it comes to me in a flash. It was the green broccoli earrings from my Vege jewelry set. One had gone missing after my night with him.

My body heats up as I remember that night. How our bodies fit so perfectly together, how it felt to have him inside me. God...what I would give to do that again...

No...I should walk away with whatever self-respect I still have. Marcus is not the kind of person who would want something more than a one-night stand anyway.

"That cheap piece of jewelry? Just throw it in the trash. I already threw the other one away," I type.

Marcus’s reply takes longer this time.

Finally—

"It is very important I give this back to you."

I stare at the message, teeth pressing into my lower lip. What did he expect? That I’d rush over, starry-eyed and grateful because he found some two-dollar earring shaped like broccoli?

I slip my phone back into my pocket and force my thoughts to the present. The kids are settled on the grass under the sprawling tree now, sunlight dappling through the leaves as they chatter and squirm beside me.

I open the oversized storybook. "Once upon a time, there was a goat who didn’t want to eat grass anymore..."

Laughter fills the air. But my mind drifts.

Why did he text me?

He could’ve mailed it. Given it to Hailey anyway. Hell, he could’ve ignored it altogether.

He is so weird.

My phone buzzes again in my pocket,.

I ignore it.

I finish the story, hand out animal stickers, and usher the class back inside, pretending the weight in my chest isn’t growing.

Once the kids are back in their room, I steal a glance at my screen.

Marcus: "Maybe I want this to be an excuse to see you again."

My heart flutters, confused and cautious. Because that? That’s not something I expected Marcus to say.

Do I respond? Or do I protect myself and ghost him?

I start typing again, my fingers shaking slightly. "Well, too bad I am all the way to Portland. Too far from you to qualify as your ’bootycall.’"

The reply comes fast.

Marcus: "I didn’t say I wanted a bootycall."

I stare at the screen, pulse quickening.

Then why?

"So what do you want then? Closure? A medal for being semi-decent one time?" I reply.

There’s a pause. I imagine him staring at his phone the way I am now—unsure of how far to push, how much to say.

Then it buzzes again.

Marcus: "I don’t know what I want. But I haven’t stopped thinking about you."

A soft gasp escapes me before I can catch it. I glance up quickly—thankfully, the kids are preoccupied with finger paints and glitter glue.

I wipe my hands on a wet wipe and step into the corner near the coat hooks, like standing there will somehow give me more clarity.

I type slower this time.

"I am not your type, remember?"

Marcus: "Maybe that’s the problem."

I stare at the words, my heart thudding like a drum in my chest.

What is that supposed to mean?

I decide not to text him back anymore.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and press both hands to my cheeks, trying to will away the heat building there. Glitter, giggles, and the sweet scent of washable paint swirl around me—everything pulling me back to the now. The real world. The one that doesn’t include Marcus.

Not your type.

Maybe that’s the problem.

What the hell does that even mean?

That he is into me now? That he wishes he wasn’t into me?

That I somehow got under his skin and he doesn’t know what to do about it?

I grit my teeth and force myself to turn back toward the tables.

"Miss Rebecca, look!" Lucy grins up at me, holding out a paper plate painted with pink and glitter—something between a cat and a cotton candy explosion.

"It’s beautiful," I say, kneeling beside her.

She smiles proudly, and I manage an actual smile.

This. This is where I belong.

Glitter on my shoes, crayon streaks on my sleeves, a sticker-covered phone case, and twenty tiny humans who say my name like it means something. Like I mean something. Like I’m enough just as I am.

I’m not about to let Marcus unravel all that because he suddenly found himself being attracted to me. I had my fun that night and that should be the end of it. I don’t belong in his world.

And besides, he will leave me for another who is his type anyway.

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