Mom smacks his arm. “And when’s the wedding, huh?” A mischievous twinkle gleams in her eyes.

“Ugh, Mom! Dad, please!” I groan, already exhausted.

“Please, my butt! Give us all the deets, or we’ll march our hind parts right out this door and force them outta him.” Mom’s threat is delivered with a chuckle, but the underlying seriousness is clear.

Before I can form a coherent response, my phone alarm blares—a blessed, timely rescue. I glance at the screen.

Five minutes until interview decision time!

I sharply exhale and use this excuse to escape their eager inquisition. “Gotta make a call.”

Escaping the probing questions from my parents, I retreat to my room and close the door behind me, granting me brief sanctuary from the evening’s massive letdown.

The sting of Vic’s deceit still lingers, but a spark of pride flickers within me. Tonight wasn’t just about awkward confrontations with rich snobs or fleeting flirtations; it was a night where I stood my ground against Cory. Reclaiming a piece of dignity in front of an ex who thought he still had sway over my emotions was epic.

The idea of never having to crawl back to him for a job or validation fills me with a resolve I hadn’t felt in months. It’s time to rebuild my career on my own terms. Suddenly energized by this newfound determination, I dial Vicky’s number.

The call connects, and I take a deep breath before speaking, “Hi, Vicky? It’s Kerry. I’ve decided to accept the interview for the teaching position.”

There’s a pause on the other end as Vicky processes my sudden decision, and then her voice brightens with enthusiasm. “Kerry, I thought you forgot about the offer. It’s pretty late, but that’s fantastic news! Can you make it at 8 a.m. sharp on Monday?”

“Absolutely.” My lips curve into a genuine smile, feeling the pieces of my life snapping into place.

I ask about my new students—their ages, likes, dislikes, strengths, and struggles.

“I like your initiative already,” Vicky praises, and it feels damn good to hear.

By the time we hang up, a surge of energy courses through me. I spend the rest of the weekend buried in lesson plans, crafting interactive science projects, math games, and engaging reading sessions. I sketch out every detail, from social studies discussions to arts and crafts, tailoring each lesson to their needs.

I even pick out my outfit, carefully opting for comfy khaki ankle pants and a chic pink blouse paired with sensible flats—no heels to trip over, and certainly no men to trip over either. The excitement of teaching, of being around kids again, fills me with a joy I knew I missed but didn’t know how to get back.

Speaking of joy stealing…my phone pings. Though we ended on a sour note, I really hope it’s Mr. Grey Beard.