Ready For It (MacAteer Brothers #2) - M.L. Nystrom Page 0,38

had happened, like the school board decided to bring back blackboards and chalk to replace our whiteboards and markers.”

My sarcasm sank like a boat anchor. “Miss Miser, am I to think you’re pregnant?”

I gave him my brightest smile while gritting my teeth. “Why yes, Mr. Bradshaw, I am. I am pregnant, and my baby is due in late December or early January. Thank you for asking.”

He shuffled a bit. “You’re an unwed woman.”

OMG, open a dictionary and find some new terms, preferably in this century. “Yes, I’m aware.”

“This is highly inappropriate, Miss Miser.”

I kept the fake smile on my face but began to bristle. “According to the state policies, any parent or guardian is allowed up to twelve weeks of leave for parental bonding without danger of losing his or her job. That same policy says I only need to give you forty-eight hours of written notice before taking that type of leave. I’ve given you an entire semester to get a long-term sub for my classes. I’m not sure what you find so disturbing about it.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not married.”

Moron! “We’ve already established that, sir, and there’s nothing in this policy about being married or unmarried.” I supposed being deliberately obtuse didn’t help my situation, but truthfully, I got a kick out of needling the old bastard. “What exactly is the problem?”

“I don’t think the parents will be very happy to have you teaching the girls in your classroom.”

More like he will not be happy to have me teaching the girls in my classroom. Old goat!

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood up straight, towering over the man, and prepared for battle. “Three years ago, the chemistry teacher, Dillon Rathbone, got caught boinking a student in the lab after school. You let him stay in his classroom until the board hearing for permanent dismissal. That same year, Randy Barnett, a history teacher, had three, three DUI arrests, including one during a school trip he chaperoned and drove the bus. He’s still working here and still keeps a bottle of vodka locked in his file cabinet. The rumor of Coach Blake Perdue giving steroids to his football players made the rounds last year, but no charges were ever filed. To this day, he’s still in question, however when pressed, you defend him and puff up with pride at the team’s winning record.”

The man started melting into a puddle of weak goo. “Um… do you have a point, Miss Miser?”

“My point, Mr. Bradshaw, is you’re a chauvinist. Yes, I’m a single pregnant woman. This does not affect the safety of my students nor the integrity of my classroom. I’m not going to parade around the school with a scarlet letter printed on my chest, especially when so many of my male colleagues have been granted pardons by you personally. I’ve given you a more than generous amount of time to find a long-term sub capable of teaching my classes. Anything else is nun-ya.”

His face turned red, and he sputtered. “I don’t understand.”

“Nun-ya business.”

I have to give him credit for trying. He pushed his horn rims up and mustered the stern look back on his face. “Miss Miser, this is not the same thing as having a bottle of bourbon locked up in a file cabinet.”

“Vodka.”

“No, it’s bourbon. I... uh....”

Jackpot! His face drained of color when he realized what he’d just confessed. “I’m... uh... that is… well… um… good day to you, Miss Miser.”

After he slunk off with his tail between his legs, I had to sit down, as my knees jellified and wouldn’t hold me up any longer. He was right. Some people existed who would look down on me in judgement. My mother and brother had already declared me to be an embarrassment. My father didn’t have enough regard for me to be on his radar. A hiccup caught me by surprise. Fuck, don’t cry, Mel. Not here. Not worth it.

The clock read four thirty before I left my classroom and walked to my car. I sat at the steering wheel and stared into nothing for several minutes, then my stomach shifted.

Not nausea. Not sickness. Just a little twist. I held my breath. It happened again, but this time it felt like a little poke. My baby moved around inside me, and I pictured him or her rolling over. I had a sonogram scheduled for Monday morning, since schools were closed, and Beverly had volunteered to go with me. I covered the spot with my hand and received