The Temporary Wife - By Jeannie Moon Page 0,51

that the children weren’t bright, it was that they were five, and most kids who were five had a lot of growing up to do.

Sometimes they made mistakes. Lots of them.

Meg sat in the faculty room, alone, sipping a cup of coffee after having just been reamed out by a set of parents whose child had a serious case of what Meg had dubbed “Center of the Universe Syndrome.” The little girl was bright, but bossy and difficult. She thought she was always right, would interrupt, and, to use a cliché, she didn’t play well with others.

The parents were raging at Meg for not providing the stimulating environment that little Bella needed. Apparently, Meg was a horrible person who had no business teaching if she couldn’t see that their baby was bored. And misunderstood. And not appreciated by the other children.

Meg conceded that Bella’s problem was, at five, indeed not her fault. Her parents, however, didn’t want to hear that their child’s issues were more closely linked to how they were raising her.

Yeah, that didn’t go over well.

Meg folded her arms on the table and dropped her head. This was the worst day. Her life was crap, she and Jason were barely speaking, Molly was home sick—again—and she’d just insulted two very vocal parents. “Jesus, what was I thinking?”

There was no one with her, or so she thought, until she felt a large and familiar hand slide across her shoulders. Looking up, she saw the dimpled grin of Grant Nielsen. Good God, she might as well have been staring up at Thor.

“Hey,” he said. “Heard it was a tough afternoon.”

“You have no idea. Wait. How did you hear?”

“I was in the main office when the parents were screaming at Mary that Bella needed to be removed from your class. Apparently you are a disgrace to your profession.”

“Awesome.”

“They’re going to the superintendent.”

“Trying to make me feel better, are you?”

Grant smiled again, and it went right to his eyes. He was adorable, no doubt about that.

Meg sat up in her chair and looked at him. He’d taken the seat to her right, and when he was so close, the size of him alone made her aware. She’d always been physically attracted to Grant. He was six-four, blond, and blue-eyed. His body wasn’t lean or graceful, he was just big. Powerful. But as much as she had wanted things to work out with him when they were dating, Meg knew they hadn’t connected the way they should. On paper, he was perfect for her, because he was a wonderful man. In reality, she knew in her heart she’d never love him.

Initially she’d ended it with him because the Campbells had given her no other choice, but if she was honest with herself, the custody battle just pushed along what was inevitable. Her heart wasn’t in it.

“How are things going?” he asked. His voice was no longer light, but serious. He was worried.

“Well, other than parents who hate me, it’s going okay.”

“Husband’s good?”

How did she answer this? Except for their short cruise and a brief but intense moment a couple of days ago, their marriage was pretty much nonexistent. She couldn’t tell Grant the relationship had an expiration date, though.

“He’s home with Molly today. She’s sick.”

Grant reached out, taking her small hand in his enormous one. “I’m glad he’s not expecting you to do everything.”

“He’s not. He’s great with Molly.”

He nodded and then an uncomfortable silence descended. A silence that was laced with questions and told Meg this conversation wasn’t near over.

“Meg, I wish I knew what happened. I mean . . .” He stopped, drew a breath, and then went on. “We were friends for a long time before we started dating, but you have to know that . . . that I love you, and I don’t understand what drove you to him.”

Oh, God. She stared up at Grant, surprised. She hadn’t realized he’d been quite that serious about her until now. Not. A. Clue. “You love me?”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you off. I know you’re cautious. But yeah, I do.”

“I don’t know what to say. I want to explain it, because you deserve an explanation, but I can’t.” She hesitated. “Please believe me when I tell you, I never wanted to hurt you. Never.”

“You can tell me any story you want, Meg, explanations don’t matter. What does matter is that you aren’t happy. If you were, I could let this go and chalk it up