Page 6 of Mr. Infuriating (Mister #1)

Gretchen

I looked around my classroom Friday afternoon once all my students had gone home for the weekend and let my shoulders sag in relief that I’d made it through another week.

I was ready for a few days off, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to go out tonight.

No, that wasn’t true. I was definitely sure I didn’t want to go out tonight.

Laura had texted me every night this week though, apologizing for standing me up two weeks ago while saying how excited she was to hang out and promising to buy all our drinks.

She’d even offered again to pay for a sitter, but that wasn’t necessary since my parents were picking Jake up from daycare and keeping him until Sunday.

My family had really stepped up to make sure my son knew he was loved and wanted.

I couldn’t cancel now.

In addition to Laura’s daily texts were Rick’s from Mitchell Cabinets and Woodworking. Last week’s had started polite enough, along with his voicemail and email. By this week though when I still hadn’t replied, the tone had gotten a lot more curt.

Oh well. Tell your owner not to be an asshole.

I still needed to talk to my brother about what my options were to cancel.

A problem for next week’s Gretchen to deal with.

My classroom phone rang, and I hesitated. Hopefully it wasn’t a parent who wanted to chat for forty minutes about all the reasons his or her child should be allowed to do extra credit or turn in assignments from last quarter.

“This is Ms. Wainwright.”

“Hey, Gretch. It’s Lisa in the front office.”

“Hi, Lisa. What’s going on?”

“Hey, a letter just came for you by courier. It looks important.”

Courier? Was that even a thing anymore?

“Does it say who it’s from?”

“No, it’s just one of those white, nondescript cardboard envelopes, but he made me sign that I received it on your behalf. I know you’re going through a divorce. Maybe it has to do with that?”

“Maybe,” I replied. Although it didn’t seem likely. That had been wrapped up earlier this month. Troy better not be trying to pull some bullshit after the fact. Just the thought made my spine stiffen. “I’ll be right there,” I said, then hung up the phone and grabbed my keys from my desk drawer.

As I walked to the office, I wracked my brain trying to figure out what this could be about but kept coming up short.

I certainly wasn’t prepared for what I found when I pulled the tab to open the envelope.