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Super Over You
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“This is your ex. I’m calling because I have to, not because I want to.”
Olivia was my high school sweetheart.
Now I want to re-claim what’s been mine all along.
This is a full-length standalone romance novel. Jamie Knight promises to always bring you a happy ever after filled with plenty of heat. And never any cheating or cliffhangers!
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My thoughts were scattered that sunny morning in September. I was feeling all sorts of emotions, some that hung on like dew on your skin on a balmy summer day, and some that dissolved like sand castles under a wave.
Mostly, it was time that haunted me. Not just time, but the fact that it was passing, and I was not yet the woman I had always dreamt of being.
Still, I was working, finally, at my dream teaching job. That would have to be enough, at least for now.
Everything else could wait. Including my personal life, and dating.
“Look, Ms. Olivia!”
I heard a little voice calling to me.
As the kids in my first-grade class painted on the paper that lined the floors, one little girl drew a heart and a picture of her mommy and a child that represented herself, holding hands.
I knew it was supposed to be her because she had drawn a pony tail on top of the stick figure’s head and colored it yellow, just like her own hair color and the style in which she always wore it. A big red arrow pointed to a blob on the other side of the art piece – the blog was supposed to represent her father.
Of course, I knew this not by her amazing rendition, but by the heart and mish-mashed letters that did their best attempt to spell out, “Daddy.”
I smiled at her, trying to conceal the ache in my own heart about my own loneliness — it wasn’t my students’ faults.
“That’s so pretty, Michaela. Save it for your mommy. She’ll love it.”
Michaela smiled and got back to work as she pushed back her blonde ponytail, which was covered in gooey paint by now. Apparently, she still wanted to add some final touches to her masterpiece.
As for me, I wanted love so badly. Certainly, I loved my “kids” — my students. But I was yearning for my own family… my own real kids.
The birds, especially the one little sparrow that always hung out with us, were perched on the window of the lovely little school house. Their presence brought me comfort.
As they gathered and chirped, it reminded me of a time long ago when I could be found daydreaming out the window at Pierson Elementary. In fact, I remember my teacher, Ms. Betsy, always trying to get me to focus. She was so nice, even if she did have a superbly wretched perm.
Even then, I had trouble staying in the present. I never really wanted to be in the moment. As a girl, I had such big dreams and high hopes.
A lot of good that did me, though.
As the birds held my gaze, I thought, Why haven’t the things I dreamed of manifested for me?
Thankfully, another little girl broke me out of my internal pity-party with an ebullient holler:
“Ms. Olivia, I drew you as my favorite person. I love you. Look!”
The pixie haired girl, Sookie, was like something out of a prize-winning photograph. She had jet black locks cropped like a boy, freckles on her button nose, and blazingly blue eyes.
Honestly, even though I’m not supposed to compare among my students, if I could design the perfect daughter, I would want her to be like Sookie. She was always trying to make others feel good, and of course she was also cute as a button. She was one of my favorites and she knew it.
Don’t get me wrong — I tried not to show the others that I had a favorite, but it’s human nature to prefer some people over others, even if we don’t always admit it. Soookie raised the picture high above her head so that she could show it to me better.
I looked at this adorable interpretation, and quite frankly I was in awe.
“Oh, that’s beautiful, Sookie. Look at my long blonde hair. You made me so pretty. You are such a little artist. Thank you, sweetie. May I keep it?”
Shyly, she commented with a big grin, “Yes, Ms. Olivia.”
Then she walked it over and gave me a big hug, slamming the wet paint from the picture up against my pants. I was covered in red and blue paint, but it didn’t matter much. Not only was I used to it, but I also lived for these moments.
For a second, I focused on the picture, on how detailed she saw everything. And then it hit me, that in the picture I was standing utterly alone in the center of a white background.
This aloneness, this search for love, was beginning to weigh on me and apparently it was obvious even to my students – at least subconsciously in Sookie’s painting, anyway.
Would I myself ever have a first grader who I dressed every morning and handed off to the trusted bus driver?
Would I ever have those after school moments when my little one runs up to me with the picture she painted of me, her mommy, and the nearby blob in the background of the picture representing her daddy?