Another Woman's Man (16 page)

His mother grabbed his wrist. He turned toward her.

“Hon, I'm not trying to make you angry. I'm not trying to hurt you. I don't want you to do something you'll regret later. I married your father because I loved him. Because I couldn't imagine being with anyone else in the world but him. I don't want you to get married because you feel it's the right thing to do, because you feel it's your obligation.”

“You think I'm marrying her because I feel
obligated
to do it?”

His mother released his wrist. “I think you've been incredibly grateful to Herb for all the things he's done for you since your dad died, for him being there for you. You tried to hide it from me, but I knew you took it just as hard as I did. Maybe . . . maybe even worse,” she said softly. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I know you, Xavier. You believe in doing the right thing, the honorable thing, and you want to pay back Herb. What better way to pay him back than by marrying and taking care of his daughter?”

Xavier grimaced, feeling a punch to the gut at his mother's words. He wanted to deny it, to argue that what she was saying wasn't true. But he knew deep down that in many ways, it was. Yes, he thought Constance was beautiful and he was attracted to her. Most men would be. But was he
in love
with her? Was he in love with her the way his parents had been in love with each other? Xavier had always assumed that his desire to protect her
was
love. Constance was so innocent and naïve. She needed to be taken care of and shielded from the disappointments and realities of the world, as Herb had done for him thirteen years ago. But was that love?

Shit,
Xavier thought as the realization swept over him.

Lenny rose to his feet and bumped Xavier's knee with his nose in sympathy, sensing Xavier's mood shift.

“Please think about it,” his mother persisted. “Think about what
you
really want.”

But what he really wanted wasn't what he could have. He was about to marry a woman even though he was falling in love with her sister, a sister who had said several times that she had no time for men or the distraction they presented. And Dawn was a complicated woman with a less-than-stellar past. She was nowhere as simple as Constance. A woman like Dawn could only lead to heartbreak and frustration. There was no way he was tearing his life apart and hurting most of the important people in his life for someone like her. He couldn't and
wouldn't
risk everything for what could be nothing more than a meaningless fling to her.

He knew what he had to do. He had to stick to his word. He would keep a respectful distance and expunge Dawn from his mind and his heart as much as possible.

D
awn was removing the last of the easels and paint supplies from the classroom closet, preparing for the start of her art class when she heard Xavier's voice. It drifted in from the hallway and a faint smile came to her lips.

She hadn't seen him since his birthday dinner and that disastrous night with Hosea, and she hadn't had the chance to give Xavier his gift when she'd rushed out after catching him and Constance together. She had brought the gift today with the expectation of eventually running into him. The instant she heard his voice, she rushed across the classroom, grabbed the gift bag from her desk, and dashed into the hall.

“Hey! I'm glad I finally ran into you!” she shouted with a grin. “I wanted to . . .”

Her words faded when she realized he wasn't alone. She found him strolling with a dowdy-looking older white woman who was wearing an oversized green sweater, long skirt, and Crocs. Her long brown hair was held back by a yellow scrunchie. She stared at Dawn quizzically.

“Oh, I'm sorry! I-I didn't know you were with . . . I mean, I didn't know that you were busy,” Dawn said. “I can come back later.”

Xavier shook his head and motioned her forward. “No need to apologize.” He turned to the woman beside him. “Margaret, this is Dawn. Dawn, this is Margaret. Dawn is our current art teacher.” He gestured to Margaret. “Dawn, Margaret's volunteering at the community center starting next month and I was showing her around, giving her a feel for the place.”

Dawn extended her hand to her for a shake. “Pleased to meet you.”

The woman nodded timidly before hesitating and shaking Dawn's hand. “Same here.”

The three fell silent and Dawn looked expectantly at Xavier, then Margaret.

“So you're volunteering?” Dawn asked, trying her best to make conversation. “Well, that—that's great! Welcome aboard. I know we've been shorthanded. It's always nice to have more people. I know we've been looking for an assistant football coach too. I could be wrong, but I guess you aren't filling that position.”

Margaret grinned for the first time. Her mousy face brightened. “No, actually, I studied folk art at Bryn Mawr and I work out of my studio in Arlington. I've always been interested in teaching. I thought this might be a wonderful opportunity to explore it here.” She fidgeted with the strap of her leather satchel. “Xavier said the children can be a rowdy bunch, but I'm . . . I'm willing to try.”

“Well, he's right. They're rowdy but tamable. Besides, I'm sure we could tag-team them. I'm more than willing to help out a fellow art teacher.” She turned to Xavier. “So we'll have two teachers now, huh? I didn't know you guys were so invested in the art program. Are you adding more classes for the kids?”

Xavier loudly cleared his throat. “Uh, no, actually. Those, uh . . . Those plans aren't in the works right now.” He turned back to Margaret and pointed down the hall. “So would you like to see our gym? I don't know if you'll be using it often, but—”

“You're not adding any art classes?” Dawn asked, now confused. “What do you mean you aren't adding any? Are she and I sharing a class, then?”

Dawn noticed the friendly expression on Xavier's face begin to falter. “Uh, can't really say. We can . . . we can work through the details later, though.”

Dawn nodded, though her confusion was slowly turning to uneasiness. Why was Xavier being so evasive?

“Well, enjoy your tour,” she said to Margaret, deciding to let the subject drop—for now. “Sorry for interrupting.”

“No problem at all.” Margaret nodded. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Dawn.”

Dawn watched the two walk down the brightly lit hallway and disappear around the edge of the corridor. She glanced down at the gift bag in her hand, not quite sure what to do with it now.

Dawn managed to put thoughts of their conversation aside during her class, getting easily distracted by trying to simultaneously keep the attention of and keep the peace among the more than two dozen teenagers she taught that day. Between one paintbrush-flinging incident that almost caused a fight among a couple of boys and trying to explain the intricacies of shading to her students, she had little time to think about Xavier or his caginess.

“Okay, that's it for the day, guys!” she said at the end of class. She dropped her paintbrush into a water-filled can. The kids began to gather their backpacks and loudly stream out of her classroom. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.” She cupped her hands around her mouth so that she could be heard over the clamor. “And stay out of trouble!”

A few of the students muttered replies and good-byes before running out the door into the hall.

Dawn shook her head and turned her attention to cleaning up the room. Though she asked the children to clean their paintbrushes at the end of each class, only two-thirds of them actually did it. She started to walk toward the back of the room to gather dirty brushes and scrub them at one of the industrial sinks down the hall when she heard a soft knock at the door. She turned to find Xavier leaning against the door frame.

“You busy?” he asked.

“Not really. Just tidying up,” she said casually, gathering discarded supplies. “How was the tour with Margaret?”

Xavier shrugged, walked across the room, and sat on the edge of her desk. The same tenseness radiated from him now as it had earlier. “It went OK, I guess. Margaret seems fine with working here.”

“That's good.” Dawn dropped the dirty paintbrushes into a can she held. She hesitated. “Look, sorry if I came off as rude, but if you had told me you were getting a second art teacher, I wouldn't have asked so many questions. I wasn't trying to scare her off. You caught me off guard, that's all.”

“We're not getting a second art teacher, Dawn.” He took a deep breath. “In fact, that's what I came back here to talk to you about.”

Now she really was confused. She sat down the soup can and dropped her hands to her hips. “What do you mean? Then why was Margaret here?”

She could see his jaw clench. He evaded her gaze.

Suddenly, the answer to her question dawned on her, or more accurately, fell on her like a ton of bricks. She gaped at him in shock. “Wait, are you . . . are you
firing
me?”

Xavier glanced at the door leading to the hallway. A group of kids were lingering by the lockers, near the classroom's entrance, and talking animatedly. He rose from the desk and quietly shut the door. He turned back toward her.

“You
are
firing me, aren't you?” she asked with disbelief, feeling a stab to the chest.

“Dawn . . .” he began softly.

“No, don't . . . Don't
Dawn
me! Damn it! Just spit it out! Answer the question! Are you firing me?”

She hoped he would deny it. She hoped this was some gross misunderstanding and that he wouldn't do something like this, especially considering that she hadn't wanted to teach the art class to begin with but had only done it because he asked her to do it, considering how hard she had tried to be his friend. But she could tell from the expression on his face that such a hope was futile.

“I can't fire you,” he finally said. “You're a volunteer. We just don't need you anymore.” He took a step toward her. “Look, you were only supposed to be temporary . . . an emergency fix. Remember? Margaret is willing to take over as a long-term replacement and—”

“So this is how I find out about it? While you're giving my long-term replacement
a goddamn tour!
When the hell were you planning to tell me this?”

“I'm telling you now!” he bellowed, then closed his eyes. She could see he was trying to regain his calm. “Look, don't act so offended. You told me yourself you don't like to teach, and you're a busy woman. You have your gallery work . . . your own life. I thought you'd be relieved that—”

“
Relieved?
Relieved? You practically
begged
me to teach this damn class and now you go behind my back and do this?”

He opened his eyes. The pale gray irises seemed to darken to a stormy shade of gray as he glared at her. “I didn't go behind your back,” he said tightly.

“No, Xavier, that is
exactly
what you did!” Another thought popped into her head, making her stop in her tracks, making her even more furious. “Wait, are you firing me because of Constance? Is that what this is about? I bet she's not too jazzed about me working here with you! She certainly doesn't like me! She's made that abundantly clear!”

“Constance has nothing to do with this.”

But Dawn knew he was lying—
again
. She could see the lie written all over his face. She wondered if Constance had done it the night of his birthday party, coaxed him into getting rid of her while giving him a piece of ass. Dawn should have known if Constance had issued him an ultimatum that he would put her on the chopping block. She didn't know why she had expected anything else from him.

“Great! That's just great!” She laughed coldly, shaking her head. “You're getting rid of me because you don't have the
balls
to stand up to your fiancée!”

“I told you that Constance has nothing to do with this!”

“Yeah, right,” she snarled, feeling tears of anger and humiliation well in her eyes.

She had never been fired before—
never!
Even Percy hadn't given her the pink slip despite all their drama, and yet Xavier—the man she had fallen for—could be so callous to do this to her now.

She wiped at her eyes, strode across the room, and grabbed her wool coat and purse—her cleaning efforts now forgotten.

“Fuck Princess Constance and
fuck you,
Xavier! I'll stay on until Margaret can take over the class next month. I'll do it so the kids won't be left high and dry, but that's the only reason. You, on the other hand,” she said, tossing her purse strap over her shoulder, “can kiss my ass, you ungrateful, pussy-whipped son of a bitch!”

She strode toward the classroom door, but stopped when she suddenly remembered something. Dawn turned on her heel and stomped back toward Xavier. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out the gift bag she had meant to give to him earlier.

“Oh, before I forget . . . Here's your damn birthday gift! You don't deserve it, but I've got no use for it.”

“Dawn . . .” For the first time, he looked and sounded contrite, but she didn't want to hear it.

She tossed the gift bag at him, startling him. She had aimed for his head, but instead it landed against his chest and fell to the floor. She turned again to leave.

“Dawn, don't storm out like this! Don't put this shit on me like I did something wrong!”

She ignored him and reached for the door handle. She only stopped when he grabbed her. Dawn angrily whipped around and shoved him away—or at least she tried to. Despite her efforts, she was still locked firmly in his grasp.

“Don't act like I did something wrong!” he shouted again, clutching her shoulders, looking desperate. “I'm trying to do the right thing, God damn it! I'm trying to . . . to . . .”

“I get it! You're trying to be a good little boy and make your fiancée happy!” The tears she had been holding back were spilling onto her cheeks now. “Fine! You get your wish! I'm leaving! Just let go of me so I can get the hell out of here!”

But he didn't let go of her. Instead, he lowered his mouth to hers and knocked the bluster right out of her.

“What . . . what the hell are you doing?” she sputtered against his lips. They were the last words she uttered.

She wasn't prepared for the sensuous kiss or what it would do to her. All her anger and indignation were instantly forgotten. She even forgot about Constance.

His lips weren't full, but there was more than enough strength behind them to rival the fullest of lips. He worked against hers, taunting her, toying with her mouth until she gave in with a whimper. Her lips finally parted and she kissed him back. When she did, he seized the opportunity and licked inside her mouth, tasting her. Dawn tasted him too. Their tongues met. He released his hold long enough for her to drop her coat to the classroom floor, then her purse. She looped her arms around his neck. His hands went from her back to her ass and he tugged her closer.

They were panting now and tilting their heads so that the kiss could deepen. Dawn's heart was thudding wildly in her chest. A surge of heat crested over her body. She rubbed her pelvis enticingly against his and felt a bulge in his jeans urgently pressing back against her.

He shifted her back toward her desk and eased between her thighs so that he stood between her legs. He shifted his kisses from her mouth to her neck, nibbling at her skin along the way.

They had to stop this soon. She could feel herself getting hotter and wetter by the second. If one of them
didn't
end this kiss, he could have her right here on the tiled classroom floor if he wanted to.

Lucky for her, Xavier regained his senses first. He suddenly pulled away and took several ragged breaths.

“Shit,” he murmured. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. He shoved his hand into his hair. “God damn it . . . God . . .
damn it!
I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have done that!”

“You shouldn't . . . but you did,” she said softly. “Why did you?”

“Because I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you standing in the hallway this morning.” He licked his lips. “Hell, I wanted to do it since the first night I met you at your gallery back in December. But I've been fighting it this whole time.” He slowly shook his head. “Shit, I've been fighting it without even realizing it.”

She stared at him, dumbstruck. He suddenly glared at her.