Page 61 of My Forbidden Billionaire
There are so many things I want to say to her right now—so many words that have been left unspoken. But instead, we just stand for a few moments staring into each other’s eyes until a voice comes over the loudspeaker.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Jameson Juniper Hall’s Annual Talent Show!” the announcer booms. “Please find your seats and get ready to enjoy the show!”
Josephine and I exchange a look before making our way into the auditorium. The room is filled with parents and students alike, all buzzing with excitement.
“Hi Miss Andrews!” Josephine is quickly intercepted by a group of students who greet her with enthusiasm.
She turns to me, smiling, and says, “I’ll catch up with you later.”
I nod, watching as she makes her way towards the students. Part of me is disappointed that we’re not sitting together, but the other part of me knows that’s wishful thinking. I’m just grateful for the little time we did get to spend together tonight.
I scour the auditorium for a good seat, and spot one toward the front. I make my way over and settle in, eagerly anticipating Clem’s performance.
But just as the lights are about to dim and the show is about to begin, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn, and to my utter surprise, Josephine is standing there, a small smile playing on her lips. “Do you mind if I sit here?” she asks, already settling into the empty seat beside me before I have the chance to reply.
“Of course not,” I reply, inwardly rejoicing at the thought of sitting next to her.
We sit in silence for a moment, watching the stage in anticipation.
As if on cue, Ms. Abadie appears to the right of the stage, fluttering the red velvet curtains and creating a big spectacle. In an instant, she starts scolding one of the children.
“Does she do anything other than bully everyone?” I ask Josephine, flabbergasted.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Is she still giving you a hard time?” I ask, noticing that Josephine’s face is now a little worried at the mention of Ms. Abadie.
“Mmm … not exactly. Though, she makes it pretty obvious that she doesn’t like me. But, then again, she doesn’t like anyone. I’ve been trying really hard not to take it personally. Because she doesn’t even know me. What reason could she possibly have for disliking me? I just try my best to stay out of her way.”
“That’s probably for the best. But as I said before at the Open House, I have no problem submitting a complaint to the Headmaster, just say the word.”
She nods in appreciation.
We watch the lights flicker three times, silently announcing the beginning of the talent show.They grow dim and golden, at which point, Miss Jensen from the Art Department—a small brunette woman dressed in a purple gown—makes an appearance on stage.
Just as she’s about to start speaking and welcoming everyone, Ms. Abadie swoops in and takes the microphone away from her. There’s a collective gasp from the audience as well as a few smirks here and there.
“Here we go...” Josephine utters under her breath, shaking her head. “She can’t even let Miss Jensen introduce the children.”
“The fact she thinks this behavior is going to land her a promotion is mind-blowing to me,” I whisper.
The awkward moment passes and the students are finally introduced to the stage one by one, dressed in various outfits and costumes, performing a wide variety of talent acts.
While waiting for Clem’s performance, I have time to focus on the fact that Josephine is sitting so closely to me. Thoughts are racing through my head. So far, everything between us has felt very normal. In fact, I’m surprised to see that there’s no awkwardness at all. She simply took a seat next to me and it’s as if nothing has changed between us. We started talking and laughing as usual—no embarrassing moments, no weird pauses in the conversation.
Josephine is, once again, cheering alongside me for my daughter. Just like she’s done time and time again—like at school pickup, when Clem passed her science exam and at the cricket match when Clem scored.
And I must admit, it feels good to have Josephine’s support in moments like these, even if it’s not in the capacity I hoped it would be.
I glance toward the stage where a group of girls are now playing the flute. The audience is listening to them in awe, even though some of the grandparents present seem to be closing their eyes far too often—and for far longer than they should.
Our hands are now touching on the armrest between our seats. It’s an electrifying feeling.
“Oh, what in the name of all that is good and pure is this?” Josephine asks.
We watch as an entire group of teenage boys takes the stage dressed in street clothes—or what very rich children think are street clothes, meaning expensive hoodies and clean sneakers that have been taken out of the box three minutes ago.
“No, no, please don’t tell me that they’re going to...”