“Hey,” I say. “Where’s Lauren?”
“Think she’s in the rec room.”
“Mrs. Filan wants her.”
“Right now?”
“Yes. I’d tell her to hurry, too. Mrs. Filan’s a stickler for tardiness.”
“You’re supposed to be with Mrs. Filan right now,” he says, consulting the board behind him with everyone’s schedules.
“What can I tell you?” I say. “She kicked me out. She hates my guts.”
“She doesn’t like redheads,” Shane says, surprising me.
“You gotta be kidding me.”
He smiles. “Yeah. Apparently, her husband left her for one.”
“Jesus!” I cry, throwing my hands up. “How is that my fault?”
“You’re the other woman—in her head, I mean.”
I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “God help me. I’m going home.”
He looks a little pained. And I know it’s because Shane’s got a hard-on for the rules. Usually, I’m on the same page.
But today, I just don’t give a damn anymore.
He seems to notice that, too.
“Hey,” he prods gently. “You okay?”
I heave a long sigh and rub my temples. “Not really,” I admit. “But then again, who is?”
“Right,” he says, voice thick with concern. “Okay, go on and get out of here. I’ll have Lauren go in and finish her bath.”
“Thanks, Shane.”
He gives me a sweet smile. I bask in the warmth of it for a moment.
A friendly face is so rare these days.
I’ve noticed the way he looks at me, too. He likes me.
Not that I’m open to that. I’m married to Tristan Rearden, as Mrs. Filan was nice enough to remind me.
And that’s not loyalty talking.
It’s pure fucking fear.
“Have a good evening, Shane.”
“You too, Saoirse.”
I go to my locker, grab my bag, and head out onto the streets.
I’m running a little late tonight so I probably should take a cab, but that would mean I’d get home sooner, and I have no interest in that.