Through the school's front windows, he could see the morning bustle—teachers arriving with coffee and canvas bags full of papers, kids being dropped off by parents who looked like they needed more caffeine. Normal life happening all around the woman who was the center of his universe.
Dean grabbed the box and got out of the car before he could talk himself out of it.
The front office smelled like industrial cleaner and the particular brand of chaos that came with corralling hundreds of children. The secretary looked up as he approached, her expression shifting from polite to curious when she saw the bakery box.
"Can I help you?"
"I'd like to leave this for Fiona,” he said, setting the box on the counter. "She's a fifth-grade teacher here."
"Oh, how sweet!" The secretary eyed him suspiciously. "She's been getting the most thoughtful gifts lately. The anonymous classroom donation, and now this."
Dean felt himself blushing. Fiona didn't know it was him, but she was being taken care of. That's all that mattered.
"Is there a message this time?” the secretary with a knowing look.
Dean had agonized over what to write, finally settling on something simple. Just a small card tucked under the ribbon.
"Just the card with the box," he said.
"I'll make sure she gets it," the secretary promised, already reaching for the intercom. "She'll be so surprised."
Dean thanked her and headed back to his car, but he couldn't resist glancing back at the school building. Somewhere in there, Fiona was probably straightening desks and laying out supplies, getting ready to spend another day transforming her students’ lives with her boundless patience and creativity.
And in a few minutes, she'd have a box of her favorite cookies and the knowledge that someone—even if it was the husband she was divorcing—was thinking about her happiness.
CHAPTER 51
Fiona
"Special delivery,"the secretary said with a knowing smile, holding out a small white bakery box tied with ribbon.
Fiona looked up from her desk, squinting slightly against the fluorescent lights. Her head was pounding from too much wine and too little sleep, and she'd already downed two cups of coffee trying to feel human again.
"For me?" she asked, her voice rougher than usual.
"From a very handsome man who clearly adores you," the secretary said, setting the box down carefully. "Dark hair, expensive suit, looked like he hadn't slept much but was trying to hide it."
Fiona's stomach flipped—whether from the hangover or recognition, she couldn't tell. Dean.
She untied the ribbon with shaking fingers, already knowing what she'd find inside. Lemon shortbread cookies from the bakery near their—his—apartment. The ones he'd brought home that first time, watching her face light up as she bit into the buttery, citrusy perfection.
The small card tucked under the ribbon made her chest tight:These made you smile once. I hope they can again. -D
"He's persistent, I'll give him that," the secretary said, clearly settling in for gossip. "Though I have to say, between the cookies and the classroom donation, he's certainly committed to making you happy."
Fiona's headache suddenly got worse. "What?"
"The anonymous donation? A few weeks back?" The secretary looked confused by Fiona's expression. "That was him. Same man, different day. Came in with a check and very specific instructions that it all go to your classroom."
The room tilted sideways, and Fiona gripped the edge of her desk to steady herself.
Dean. The anonymous donor who'd made it possible for her students to have proper supplies, to do real science experiments, to feel the wonder of discovery—that had been Dean.
Fiona stared down at the cookies, her mind reeling through her hangover fog. While she'd been struggling to buy whiteboard markers with her grocery money, Dean had been quietly ensuring her classroom was fully funded. While she'd been grateful to some mysterious benefactor, he'd been the one making sure her students could learn properly.
"Are you alright, dear?" The secretary asked. "You look a little pale."
"I'm fine," Fiona managed, though she felt anything but. "Just... surprised."
