Page 4 of Shotgun Spouse
Bunny reached for her tea again, only to realize it had gone completely cold. “Of course.”
Pushing the cup aside, she sat back and closed her eyes, willing herself to find some semblance of calm. The weight of it all pressed down on her—the family drama, the office chaos.
She tapped her foot against the worn carpet, her gaze narrowing on the unsigned forms that would release funds for Teddy’s beloved after-school program. They had to be submitted before the end of the day tomorrow or the allocation would be delayed by months.
She’d already reminded him. Twice. Teddy had nodded, smiled that ridiculously charming smile, and said he’d get to it. And then what had he done? Gone off to play with the kids at the after-school program, or share a beer at the pub with the officers from the local precinct, or show up to the community center to flirt with the single women in the book club.
Bunny took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling in a measured rhythm. If he didn’t care enough to sign it, why should she care enough to chase him down again?
But she did care. That was the problem. Not about the after-school program—though it was a good idea—but about the grant proposal sitting untouched on her desk. A proposal she knew could make a real difference for the entire town, not just one small part of the community.
She knew she had Preston's backing. Like her, the senior policy advisor believed this was the best course for the mayor's office to take. Frank, the mayor's chief of staff, was more interested in the projects that would help get Teddy reelected—and fighting for the children was always a winner. Grant—well, everyone knew Grant thought he should be mayor and would act in whatever passive-aggressive manner would undermine the man who had the job he wanted.
Bunny headed back to her desk with a glance inside Teddy's open door. She could see right inside to his office, and his desk chair was empty. Of course it was.
Back at her desk, Bunny pulled out her laptop and opened the grant proposal she’d spent weeks perfecting. The numbers, the vision, the potential—it was all there in black and white.
She didn’t need Teddy’s permission to submit the grant. Technically, it was already approved by the council—it just needed someone with a functioning sense of urgency to hit “submit.” Someone like her.
The after-school program was important, yes, but it was one piece of a much bigger puzzle. The grant package could revitalize the entire town. It meant transforming empty storefronts on Main Street into thriving small businesses, giving families a reason to stay instead of moving away. It meant attracting tourism dollars that could fund not only the after-school program but new playgrounds, updated library technology, and better infrastructure for the next decade.
The grant was ambitious, forward-thinking—the kind of bold move that could turn their sleepy little town into a bustling community of opportunity. Bunny knew that if they only focused on patching one hole in the ship—or rather a pothole in the street—the rest would sink, anyway. This grant could keep everything afloat and moving forward.
Her hands paused, the cursor blinking at her like it was daring her to take the leap. This wasn’t exactly playing by the rules. But then again, Teddy wasn’t exactly playing the part of a responsible mayor.
She didn't second-guess herself. She knew she was right. And she pushed the button.
CHAPTER THREE
The after-school program was in full swing. A group of kids clustered around a craft table, glittering construction paper and markers strewn everywhere. In another corner, a game of dodgeball was underway, punctuated by squeals of laughter and the occasional exaggerated groan of defeat.
Teddy’s eyes weren’t on the kids laughing and playing with their parents nearby. He was focused on the ones who weren’t laughing, the ones who weren’t with any parents.
They sat in small groups or alone. Their faces were carefully neutral. Their hands were busy with whatever activity they’d been assigned. It was their eyes that betrayed them. Their gazes flitted to the door every few seconds, scanning for someone who wasn’t coming. And then those faces lit up.
It hit Teddy in the chest, the same way it always did. That spark of hope when they first saw him, followed by the quick, practiced mask of indifference as he came near.
“Hey, look, it's Old Man Mayor.” Adam was in ninth grade, but he looked like he was still in elementary school. He carried a regular-sized basketball under his arm, but it looked like a boulder.
“Hi, Adam. You ready to get demolished by an old man?”
"Like you got any game." That came from another boy. Vinnie was his name.
"Tell me about my game after I dunk on you."
That was all they needed to let their guard down. Light pricked at the corners of their eyes. Small smiles tugged at their upper lips.
A laugh rang out from across the room. Teddy turned to see a group of parents chatting near the bleachers, their kids weaving around their legs. He didn’t begrudge them their time here—they loved their kids, supported them, made this program even better by showing up.
But it was the other kids—the ones like Jason, sitting at the snack table or Bettie doing homework beneath the bleachers, pretending she didn’t care if anyone came for her—who pulled at his heart the most.
He'd seen it on so many of the faces of his friends when he'd been their age. Teddy's mother was always in the bleachers at his games, at every spelling bee, taking pictures at every awards ceremony, like she was going for perfect parent attendance.
Teddy had long since made peace with his father’s death, but the hole it left was why he was here now. Why he let his mother hover as much as she did, even if it drove him a little crazy. Loss was hard, and he didn’t want anyone to feel it if he could help it. Especially those with parents who were on this earth in body but not present at the school in spirit.
He called out to Jason at the snack table. “Hey, how about a game of basketball? I hear Lily’s got a mean dribble, but I think we can take her.”
Jason’s lips twitched. “You think?”
