Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 521(@250wpm)___ 434(@300wpm)
The dads wore various expressions. Though most of them smiled and asked questions and laughed when they had to clean their kids mouth after a powdered donut incident, some of them sighed and watched the clock and wrinkled their noses at the mess.
This was par for the course.
It was easy to see who’d been forced into coming, whether by their wives or someone else, and who actually wanted to be here.
I made my rounds, making sure I stopped to speak with every parent and paid special attention to the kids whom I could tell were a bit uncomfortable. They may have been five-year-olds, but they weren’t stupid. They could tell if their father wanted to be there or not.
One moment, my heart would be full, watching a dad hold his kid in his lap and snap a picture on his phone, or grab two donuts and hold them up to his eyes like glasses to make his child laugh, or reach for his little one’s hand and ask them for a tour of the classroom.
The next moment, my heart would be breaking, watching a dad and his son sit in complete silence, or a grandfather try to cheer up his granddaughter who was no doubt wondering why her father couldn’t make the time to come, or two kids sitting alone together, eating their donuts and pretending it didn’t bother them that no one had come to join them.
I flitted around the room with a smile I hoped could lift any spirit, refilling milk, juice, and water cups, and stopping long enough to chat with each parent and child individually. I made sure to spend extra time with the kids who needed it most, especially my two who hadn’t had anyone show up for them.
Fortunately, a couple of the great dads had noticed my loners and had taken it upon themselves to help. I mouthed a thank you to Mr. Oster, who was currently holding the sticky hand of a kid who wasn’t his and asking about the rhyme wall.
I felt in my element as I drifted from table to table, answering questions for the dads who asked them, and making sure I had something positive to say about each kid, something to brag about. It was easy to do, since they all felt a little like my own. I knew so much about them now. I knew who was quiet and who was outgoing. I knew whose hand would shoot up quickly when I asked a question and who would dip their head shyly and wait for me to ask them what they thought. I knew who was a jokester and who took everything seriously. I knew who had the softest heart and who wore the toughest skin.
They weren’t my babies, but in so many ways, they were.
As I walked around that room handing out hugs and smiles, I swore I felt a pair of steely eyes following me every step of the way.
I told myself I wasn’t avoiding Will Perry as I stopped at every other table before making my way to his last. It was just that he and Ava were in the corner. It was just that they happened to be sitting with three of my best students with fathers whom I knew wouldn’t be checking their watch and hauling ass as soon as the event was over. It was just because I had nothing to worry about with that little A-plus table.
It was certainly not because I’d had a highly inappropriate dream about him last night, one where he slipped into my bed and raked my nightgown up and dared me to apologize one more time.
It was absolutely not because that dream had woken me, or that I had given in to my desires and rubbed myself against the pillow between my legs until I found relief.
And it was one-hundred percent not because any time Ava hugged me, he watched me in a way that made me feel like I was the best thing that had happened to him.
Or that when his daughter wasn’t around, I felt those eyes on me in a much more heated manner — in a way that seared my skin and boiled my blood.
Nope.
It was definitely not because of any of that.
As the Donuts with Dad event neared the end, however, I could no longer avoid that table in the corner — not that I was avoiding — and so, I made my way over with a bright smile, hands folded together in front of my pink skirt with sprinkles on it.
I’d paired it with a white sweater covered in glazed donuts.
The way Will’s eyes lingered on me as I approached that table made me feel like I’d dressed to theme a bit too well, because I was fairly certain he was tempted to take a bite if I got too close.