Page 75 of Sexting the Single Pakhan

“Leonid, please, I don’t want you getting involved in this. It’s already done, I knew a day like this would come. If you step in, it’ll only make everything bigger, more public, even messier. I still want to leave a good impression on the children, they deserve that much from me. I’ll pull myself together and find a new job. I can handle this on my own.”

I nod, pull her closer, lips to her temple. "Okay."

She exhales, sags against me.

“Have you had something to eat?” I ask.

She shakes her head. I stand, set her gently on the couch, take off my suit jacket, and get ready to make her something to eat. “What are you in the mood for?”

She reaches out and tugs on my hand. “As much as I’d love to taste your cooking right now, I just want you to hold me.”

I rejoin her on the couch and pull her back on my lap. “We order pizza?” She nods against my chest.

I stay with Laurel, holding her in my arms, watching some chick-flick I can’t remember, until it’s time to pick up Alexei from school. I only leave after her friend Tasha arrives. I don’t want her to be alone.

I pull into the driveway just as the sun dips low, casting long shadows across the lawn. Alexei’s backpack thumps against the seat when I cut the engine. He’s quieter than usual, chin tucked, staring at his sneakers.

I glance at him in the rearview. “Rough day?”

He shrugs one small shoulder. Doesn’t look up. “I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”

I twist in the seat, arm draped over the headrest. “Why not? Did something happen at school?”

“Ms. Harper’s gone.” His voice cracks on her name, small, angry, confused all at once. “They said she’s not coming back.”

My grip tightens on the leather until it creaks. “So I heard, but I’m sure you will like your new teacher.”

He shakes his head. “No I don’t. It’s Ms. Smith.” He spits the name like it tastes bad. “She’s mean. She yelled at Tommy for dropping his crayon. And she made us sit in rows instead of circles. I hate rows. Ms. Harper let us sit wherever we wanted. She said it helps us think better.”

He finally looks up, eyes glassy, lower lip trembling. “Papa… why did Ms. Harper leave? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, malysh. You did nothing wrong.” Fury coils tighter in my gut. “This isn’t about you.”

He sniffs. “Then why?”

I hesitate. Truth is messy; he’s six. But lying to him feels worse. “Some grown-ups made a mistake. They didn’t treat her fairly. But she’s okay.”

He nods. “I don’t like Ms. Smith. She looks at me funny.”

“You won’t have to deal with her long,” I murmur.

He looks up, eyes wide. “Really?”

I nod. “Really.”

He searches my face. “Can Ms. Harper come back?”

I brush a curl off his forehead. “I’ll see what I can do. But even if she doesn’t return to your school, she’ll still be around. You’ll see her. I promise.”

He exhales, small body relaxing a fraction. “Okay.”

“Go inside, get changed. We’ll make dinner together.”

“Okay.” He slides out, dragging his backpack along.

I arrive at the school ten minutes after the morning bell rings. The receptionist opens her mouth as I walk past her toward the principal’s office, then closes it when she recognizes me. She knows better than to stop me.

I push the door to the principal’s office open without knocking.