“You should get a look at the DILF at the registration desk,” Lorelai whispered as she entered my classroom. “Hottest dad I’ve ever seen in my five years here.”
I loved her to death, but my teaching assistant was a total bimbo. She threw around the “DILF” term a lot. Daddy I’d Like to Fuck. I sometimes had to wonder whether she was here to shape children’s lives by teaching them or to influence their lives by stealing one of their fathers. Not to mention, this was supposed to be an uptight, religious institution. Priests and nuns were always lurking around these halls, and she couldn’t have cared less.
“I have better things to do than fawn over married men today, Lor. None of these tables are even configured right. We have ten minutes till doors open.”
It was the first day of classes at the private Catholic school where I worked as a first-grade teacher. Located on the outskirts of Boston, St. Matthew’s was an exclusive educational institution that welcomed boys and girls from all over the state if their parents could afford the twenty-thousand dollars per year tuition. Unlike a certain co-worker, I took my job very seriously.
Whereas most of my friends who were teachers dreaded the end of summer, I loved everything about the first day of school: the crisp fall air, the smell of new clothes, getting into a routine again.
“Seriously, this dad was a different level of hot,” Lorelai said, pushing one of the chairs into its rightful position. “You know that perfect hair that some movie stars have? Thick, lush, shiny hair you want to run your fingers through? Like the guy from White Collar? What’s his name?”
Sliding a chair into place, I answered, “Matt Bomer.”
“Yes! That kind of hair. This guy didn’t look like him per se, but he was just that kind of handsome. Tall, muscular, smelled good. And he has the cutest little boy, too. Kid had glasses and curly hair. He might even be in this class, because he looks pretty young.”
I hadn’t met any of my new students yet. There was an orientation I had to miss due to a prescheduled trip for my mother’s destination wedding in Antigua. Another colleague had filled in for me. So, I felt even more out of the loop than usual.
I tried to get Lorelai to focus on the task at hand. “Wanna put these welcome packets on each table, please?”
Nothing seemed to be going my way today. I’d spilled some white paint on my black skirt as I placed the individual containers at each station. I had the bright idea that we would start the day by having the kids try their hands at painting a portrait of a new friend. I figured it would be a good way for them to break the ice and get to know one another. All of this would happen after the morning prayer of course, which was mandated to be the very first order of business before the day started.
Once I opened the doors, parents started trickling in with their children. I spent more time than usual on introductions, since I hadn’t had the opportunity to meet anyone at the orientation.
Getting to know each student’s individual needs and personalities would take some time, but I was always eager to familiarize myself with each and every one as fast as possible.
When I finally had my first chance to breathe after the parents and children dispersed, I was just about to head over to my desk for a quick sip of water when a familiar voice seemed to vibrate against my back.
“Frankie.”
The hairs behind my neck stiffened, and my body stilled. That familiar, baritone voice shook me to my core. There was only one person in the entire world who called me by that nickname—a name that hadn’t been uttered in years.
There was no possible explanation for why he could have been here. He lived in D.C., or maybe it was Virginia now.
He couldn’t be here.
I braced for the worst, forcing myself to turn and face him.
A sudden onslaught of heat permeated my face, and it felt like my legs were going to collapse out from under me.
Mack.
Not only was Mackenzie Morrison standing right in front of me, but he looked even more amazing than I could recall. He was everything I remembered, just magnified. His muscles were even more defined, and gritty stubble peppered his angular jaw.
His sparkling eyes were searing into mine with a determined look that made me a bit uneasy. Clearly, this reunion wasn’t having the same effect on him as it was on me. While my mouth felt numb, unable to form words, he appeared ready for this moment.
“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
“You might as well be one,” I muttered under my breath.
“I expected this reaction.”
I whispered, “Jesus.”
We weren’t supposed to use the Lord’s name in vain here. I couldn’t remember my own name right now let alone a single one of the Ten Commandments.
Opting not to look him in the eyes any longer, my gaze travelled down to his large hands and the veins protruding from them. The recollection of what it had felt like to wrap my fingers in his was clear as day.
It suddenly hit me that Mack was the DILF Lorelai had been referring to. For the first and only time, she hadn’t been exaggerating about how incredibly good-looking someone was.
His tone was demanding. “Look at me, Frankie.” When I didn’t listen, he repeated, “Look at me.”
I lifted my head. To look him in the face was truly painful, triggering an onslaught of memories I preferred to keep at bay. One thing was for certain: the grown man standing before me was far more confident than the guy whom I’d last seen with tears in his eyes.