Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141251 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
I want to tell him everything is going to be okay.
But she wasn’t my wife, I’m not grieving, and it’s not okay because she’s never coming back.
For the first time, I can understand why he’s like the way he is, so closed off to the world and afraid to get too close to anyone ever again.
The door opens, and he appears in front of me, smiling warmly. He’s wearing a grey suit with a white tie, looking like everything but a man swallowed in grief.
“Hello, Miss Brielle.”
My heart skips a beat. I just want to throw my arms around his neck and hug him. “Hi,” I breathe.
“You ready to go?”
I nod, but I hesitate. This really isn’t any of my business.
“What?” he asks, sensing my need to say something.
“You’re doing a really good job.”
He frowns, waiting for me to expand.
“With the kids. You’re doing a really good job with the kids. You’re a great father.”
He smiles softly, offering his thank you in silence. “Let’s go.”
We’re sitting outside the principle’s office waiting to be called in. Julian is next to me, his hands linked in front of him, staring straight ahead. We went out for breakfast this morning and made love again. Scratch that. He fucked me like there was no tomorrow, and his vow to make it impossible for me to walk for a week may actually come true. After, he kissed me goodbye and went to work, slipping back into his cold, indifferent persona.
It’s like he’s two different people. The man I fuck in the hotel is warm, sexy and tender.
The man I live with is reserved, cold, and he doesn’t show his emotions at all.
I’m not sure how to reach out to him at home, or if I even want to.
He came back to pick me up for the meeting we’re here for regarding Willow, and now it’s like last night didn’t even happen.
Did it?
Did I imagine the whole beautiful thing?
The office door opens. “Please, come in.” The principal smiles.
“Julian Masters,” he asserts as he shakes the two men’s hands.
“I’m the principle, and this is our school counsellor.”
I smile and take a seat next to Julian.
“So, Miss Johnston, last time we spoke you were concerned about Willow and how she is getting on at school.”
“Yes.” I smile as I clutch my purse in my lap.
“Well.” The counsellor raises his eyebrows, seeming uncomfortable. “I’ve had a meeting with each of her teachers throughout the week and, unfortunately, I’ve heard some things that have left me feeling very uncomfortable.”
“Such as?” Julian asks sharply.
“Willow.” He grimaces. “Doesn’t actually appear to have any close friends at the moment.”
My face falls. “What?’
“Since her only friend left nine months ago, she sits alone at lunch and doesn’t really mix with anyone.”
Julian frowns. “What do you mean?”
“She goes to the library alone.” He shrugs. “I was unaware of this until the teachers started asking other students questions.”
I squeeze my hands together on my lap. Oh no.
“Is there a problem?” Julian asks.
The counsellor frowns. “Apparently, and this is just what I’ve heard and hopefully it may not be true, there is a problem. There’s name calling going on, for a start. Everyone calls her Weird Willow.”
Julian frowns.
“Is there a certain incident that triggered this?” I ask.
“I’m not sure, but we’re getting to the bottom of it.”
“How is this the first I’ve ever heard of it?” Julian snaps. “This isn’t good enough. I pay thirty-thousand pounds a year and the school doesn’t even keep me informed when my daughter is suffering under their watch.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Masters, I’m sorry, but you’ve never been to a parent-teacher evening before. Nobody in this school knows you on a personal level. Willow’s previous nannies attended any functions or galas we had. We didn’t even know that Willow’s mother had passed away.”
Julian drops his head and stares at the carpet, I see him internally start blaming himself.
“This isn’t his fault,” I snap. “Don’t try and blame him. The school counsellor, which is you, should have been aware of a problem long before I got involved. She is in your care and one of you should have noticed and called Mr. Masters to discuss what’s been going on here. If a child has no friends, it’s a huge issue.”
The counsellor lifts his chin defiantly. “I can assure you that I’m aware of it now and we will be handling it.”
“How, exactly?” I snap. “And I want to know what you are going to do about the bullying. Willow is being attacked daily about her mother’s passing and we will not tolerate it.”
The headmaster and counsellor exchange looks.
“Are you aware of the destructive effects of bullying on young teenagers, and how deeply it’s linked with depression?” I ask.
“Yes… but—”
“There are no buts! I want the girls reprimanded for saying what they did to her.”