by T. K. Leigh
That doesn’t make this any easier.
“It was a misunderstanding. We’ve straightened it out. I can assure you it will never happen again.” His eyes narrow on me, his expression severe. It doesn’t take a genius to hear the true meaning behind his words.
“Okay,” Professor Gordon’s sweet voice carries through. “I’m around if you want to grab a drink.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be with you once I put out this fire.”
I listen as her footsteps retreat. Heat covers my face, making me momentarily oblivious of the consequences, and I reel back, landing a hard slap against his cheek, the sound seeming to reverberate in the small space.
At first, he’s stunned, his body frozen. I gave Lincoln a chance because I thought he was different. Thought nothing would turn him into an asshole. Thought he wouldn’t become like every other guy who made me feel cheap, useless.
But he’s just like them. Willing to get a piece until they’re reminded they have a wife, a girlfriend, a life they don’t want to lose. Maybe my father’s been right all along. Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe I’ll never be good enough.
Lincoln’s expression softens as he licks his lips. “Chloe, I—”
I quickly shoot up my hand, cutting him off. I want to tell him I’m going to the dean with the details of our relationship to spite him, but he’ll know it’s an empty threat. I was the one who didn’t want him to tell anyone.
“You’re right.” I square my shoulders, my words straining past the lump in my throat. “It was a misunderstanding, one that will absolutely never happen again. No matter what.” I storm toward the door, about to open it when he calls out to me.
“Chloe…” The timbre of his voice is tender, a complete contradiction to the way he just spoke to me.
As much as I know I shouldn’t, I look over my shoulder. Turmoil covers his expression and he moves toward me, his eyes pleading. I fully face him, hope building inside me that he’s about to apologize, say he made a mistake. Then he slowly reaches into his pocket, pulling out my panties.
“These are yours.” He holds them out toward me, swallowing hard, a hint of reluctance on his face.
Remember in elementary school when your teacher tried to shape your behavior toward others and promote kindness by saying that actions speak louder than words?
Well, this moment proves that’s true. Because this one action obliterates my heart more than any words ever could.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Wait a second,” Nora says the following Wednesday as she zips up the back of one of the bridesmaid gowns she’s considering for me.
Pulling the material to make it tighter, she glances at my reflection as I stand on a pedestal in front of a three-way mirror in the middle of a posh bridal boutique in Midtown. It’s a silver dress that hugs my body through my hips to where it falls a few inches above my knees. Thankfully Nora’s not sticking us all in the same color and style. We’ll all be wearing different tones and cuts, based on our body type and coloring. Better than Hannah’s wedding, when Izzy and I were forced to wear identical pink chiffon gowns that looked like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol got freaky with a cotton candy machine.
“You had sex in his office?”
Her voice carries through the space and I glare at her, but she doesn’t seem to care. I doubt any of the ladies who work here will flock to social media to dish about whatever hot gossip they overhear. They’ve probably heard much juicier stories than one of the bridesmaids almost sleeping with her college professor.
“We didn’t have sex,” I correct. “We almost had sex.”
“How close are we talking here?” Evie pipes up from her position on one of the uncomfortable looking chairs that would be more fitting in a Victorian tea room than a dressing room at a bridal boutique. “Are we talking ‘about to rip open a condom’ close? Or ‘a little tip action before the first thrust’ close?”
“There was definitely some tip. Although I’m not sure I’d call it just some.” My cheeks heat. “Lincoln is rather…gifted.”
We all giggle as I fan myself dramatically. As angry as I was initially, discussing everything with my friends is exactly what I need. They’re better than any therapist. They make me believe I’ll get through this little rough patch.
“What are you going to do?” Evie asks once our laughter dies down.
“What can I do? I should have stayed quiet. This never would have happened if I kept my mouth shut in class and pretended we have no history, just like he’s done.”
“And what? Risk an even bigger blow-up down the road?” Izzy quips before glancing at Nora. “By the way, that’s a good style choice for Chloe. Simple, straight lines work best since she has… What?” She looks back at me. “Size A boobs and no waist?”
I stick out my chest a little, but she’s not far off. “For your information, I’m a B-cup.”
“So you have graduated from the training bra.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Sorry I don’t have triple D boobs like all of you.”
“I’m only a C,” she argues back. “Now, getting back to Lincoln Moore—”
“Just Lincoln,” I correct.
“Whatever. This was bound to happen. Especially after the way he looked at you during Midge’s birthday party.”
“What?” Nora and Evie simultaneously fling their eyes toward me.
“He was at Midge’s party?” Nora spins me around to face her. “When were you going to share this with us?”
“Eventually… Maybe.”
“Why was he there?” Evie presses.
“Because instead of taking the day off to celebrate, my father had work come to him. Just like he did when I was growing up.” I grit a smile.
“Did you talk to him?” Nora asks, her voice lower.
“It was impossible not to. He was right there.”
“What happened?”
“What usually happens whenever I’m around my father. He made his usual cracks, how most people who go to college for ten years are doctors. And, of course, after learning I’ll graduate this May, he said he’d wait to pop the Champagne. He’s great for an ego boost, isn’t he?”
“How did Lincoln react to all this?” Evie asks.
A smile lights up my face. “Actually, he defended me. Said I was one of the most promising students he’s had the pleasure of teaching.”
The girls look at each other and sigh.
“Aww…” Nora places her hand over her heart. “So sweet. Your knight in shining armor coming to your rescue.”
I place a hand on my hip, fixing my expression. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor to come to my rescue. And I told him as much when he came into the kitchen later on.”
“I never asked what you guys ‘talked’ about.” Izzy waggles her brows, grinning deviously.
I stare into space, recalling with striking clarity the conversation I had with Lincoln. We talked about a lot of things, but one stands out.
“Love,” I murmur.
Three pairs of eyes instantly widen.
“What?” Evie gasps.
“In what context?” Izzy inquires, always the pragmatic one.
“Did he tell you he loved you?” Nora bounces on her feet.
“No, no, no.” Since it appears we’ve settled on this dress for me, I head back into the fitting room. “Not like that.”
“Then how?” Evie asks.
I pull on my jeans, then yank my top over my head before tugging my boots up my legs. Satisfied with my appearance, I walk into the sitting area, plopping down on a chair. “It was more in the context of my relationship with Midge and how he thought I was a conundrum.”
“Which he’s spot-on about,” Nora comments.
“I’m not that difficult to figure out.”
“Oh, come on.” She exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. “You’re hot, then cold. I can understand how Lincoln would be confused. You give off the impression you’re this tough bitch who doesn’t let anything get to her. And
that’s probably exactly what Lincoln thought because he didn’t have a chance to get to know the real Chloe. Not like we do. So I can only imagine his surprise when he walked into your father’s house to see you at a birthday party for the spawn of the man you loathe and his replacement wife, as you’ve always called her.”
“It’s not Midge’s fault she has a father who will never be happy with anything she does.”
My words linger in the air for a moment before Izzy speaks once more. “What happened next?”
I shake my head, trying to piece it all together. “I told him love makes people weak, to which he argued it makes you human. And then…”
“And then?” They all lean toward me, sitting on the edge of their seats. Literally.
Staring into the distance, a shiver rolls through me as I recall that exact moment. “He asked if I wanted to feel human. If I wanted to feel. He was so close. The closest he’d been to me in months. And then…”
“Yes?” Nora encourages as they all inch even closer, desperate for my story.
“We almost kissed.”
“Almost?” Izzy asks.
“My father came in talking about some emergency filing they needed to get done. So Lincoln went back to work.”
It’s silent for a moment. I don’t expect anyone to come up with a solution. This isn’t a problem that can be fixed. It’s just something I need to learn to live with for the next seven weeks. Then I’ll never have to see Lincoln again. At least I get a break this week with it being spring break.
“That’s it!” Evie slams her hand on the side table, startling us.
“What?”
“That’s what this is all about.”
“What is?” I scrunch my brows together, tilting my head.
“This whole thing with Lincoln. You’re worried he’ll choose his job over you.”
“He has chosen his job over me. But it wasn’t like he had a choice. It’s right there in the code of conduct.”
“Exactly.” She shoots up, tapping a finger against her lower lip. I can see the wheels spinning in her head. Never a good thing. “You were the one who insisted he not tell anyone about your relationship. He wanted to report it. Then after the semester, if there was still something there, you’d be free to pursue it. But you made sure there was no chance, under the guise of your father not finding out for fear he’d think you didn’t earn your degree.”
“And if he knew, that’s precisely what he’d think.”
“I don’t think that was the reason at all. Sure, that may be what you told Lincoln, but—”
“It was a preemptive strike,” Nora breathes, turning her wide eyes to me, as if a puzzle piece just snapped into place.
“A preemptive strike?” I counter dismissively, averting my gaze. “You two are crazy. You’ve been reading too many romance novels. Or watching too much daytime TV. I did not tell Lincoln to keep this a secret as a preemptive strike against…” I wave my hand around. “Whatever you’ve concocted in those twisted brains of yours.”
“Maybe not at the time,” Izzy interjects thoughtfully. I shoot my eyes to hers, glaring at my traitorous friend. She’s not supposed to take their side. She’s supposed to support me, have my back. “Maybe at first, you genuinely were concerned about your father. But I also think, deep down, you were hoping Lincoln would fight for you.”
“What? I didn’t—”
She stands from her chair, walking toward me, squeezing my biceps. “I know you, Chloe. Probably better than anyone else. For you to take a chance on Lincoln, you must have seen something in him that made you believe he was different.”
“Well, thank you, Dr. Nolan. Should I book my next session with you or your receptionist out front?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood, but Izzy doesn’t let up. She never does.
“Your father was a crappy male role model. He still is. Which is why, when Lincoln didn’t even try to fight for you, it broke something inside you.”
I push out of her hold and cross my arms in front of my chest. “He didn’t break me,” I insist, but I can’t look her in the eye.
“I think he did. I think he showed you what was possible. I think you felt hope that not all men are like your father or any of the other assholes you used to sleep with. So when he didn’t fight for you, it reminded you too much of how your father chose his job over you and your mom. But I think if Lincoln knew how much you still want to be with him, things might be different. I think he would fight for you.”
“I’m pretty sure lying on his desk with my legs spread sends that message loud and clear.”
“That just shows you were willing to sleep with him. Maybe he needs to know you’re willing to take a risk, like he’ll have to. I doubt you’ve ever given him any indication you were serious about him.”
“Since it appears you haven’t been following along, I’ll say it again. I never had the opportunity. I found out he was my professor before we could take things to that level.”
“Or are you using that as an excuse?”
I open my mouth, trying to come up with some argument in my defense. I want to deny her words hold even the faintest hint of merit, that Lincoln wrote me off the instant he learned who I was, but I can’t. His pained expression as he handed back my panties is still ingrained in my mind. A person who feels nothing but indifference doesn’t look at you that way.
A loud ringing rips through and I blow out a breath, saved from having to respond. I rummage through my bag, pulling out my phone, a number I don’t recognize appearing on the screen. Inwardly grateful for the reprieve, I offer the girls an apologetic smile, then bring my cell up to my ear.
“Chloe Davenport,” I answer with all the professionalism I can muster, assuming it’s a lead on a story.
“Chloe, it’s Louise.”
“Louise?” I wrinkle my nose, trying to place the name. I usually pride myself on my memory, but I’m drawing a blank here.
“Yes.” She lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “Your mother’s sponsor at AA.”
I inhale sharply. In all the years I’ve played lifeguard to my mother’s alcoholism, her sponsor has never called me, even when things got a little hairy. We took it in stride, simply trying to keep any temptations or triggers as far away as possible.
“I’m sorry. Of course.” I give Izzy a knowing look, then stand and slip out of the sitting room, making sure I’m out of earshot before continuing our conversation. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. It’s just… Your mother hasn’t attended her normal meetings the past two weeks. And she never misses a meeting without letting me know. I’ve tried calling, but she hasn’t answered. I thought of phoning her work to see if anyone there knows anything, but I’m not sure what her co-workers know of her recovery. I didn’t want to overstep, so that’s why I called you. Have you spoken with her recently?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, releasing a long sigh. “No, I haven’t.”
Guilt forms a knot in my throat at how I’ve dropped the ball these past few months. Apart from a few texts and phone calls, I’ve barely spoken to her since I got back from Vegas. It sounded like things were going great with Aaron, her boyfriend. I didn’t think I needed to keep a close eye on her.
“I’ve had some personal stuff going on myself and I guess I kind of fell down on the job, so to speak.”
“It’s not your job to take care of her,” she reminds me. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I can be a bit of a worrier.”
While I may not know Louise well, I can tell her concern goes above being a worrier. She’s a recovering alcoholic herself. She knows how quickly someone can regress.
“You’re right. She’s probably fine, but I’ll make some calls anyway.”
“And you’ll let me know?”
“Of course.”
I hang up and draw in a long breath, fighting against the headache I feel coming on. Like Louise said, it’s probably nothing. But I’ve been in this place before. It’s never nothing, not where
my mother is concerned. So I return my attention to my cell and call my mother’s work number. On the first ring, a bright voice answers.
“Carsdale Associates. How may I direct your call?”
“Hi. It’s Chloe Davenport.”
“Hello, Chloe. How can I help you?”
“Is my mother around?”
“I’m sorry,” the receptionist says with fake sympathy. “She’s not. Actually, your mother hasn’t been to work in about ten days or so. Said she needed some time away from the office to recenter herself after the last big PR nightmare she had to deal with.”
“Of course she did,” I mumble under my breath. “Do you know how long she’ll be out of the office?”
“She didn’t say,” the receptionist answers, and my suspicions only grow.
It’s not like my mother to take extended periods of time off, not now that she’s working in crisis management and doing something she enjoys again. A part of me hoped that would be enough to keep her happy, to keep her from regressing. But I’ve also learned that, regardless of how put together someone may appear on the outside, they might be battling demons no one else can see.
“I’ll call her cell instead.”
“Okay,” the receptionist chirps, unaware of any troubles. “Have a great day, Chloe!”
“You, too.”
I hang up just as light footsteps sound from behind me. Whirling around, I meet Izzy’s concerned eyes. I don’t even have to say anything for her to know what’s going on.
“Oh, Chloe…”
I shrug, doing my best to hold it together. Like I always have. “What can I say? When it rains, it fucking pours.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
I climb out of the cab and glance up at the shotgun-style house in the East Flatbush neighborhood of Brooklyn where my mother lives. It’s a quaint house in a quiet neighborhood. Well, as quiet as you can find within a short commute to Manhattan.
Ten years ago, I didn’t think my mother would ever be able to hold down a job for long, let alone afford a house in this neighborhood. But once she started taking her twelve-step program seriously, things turned around for her. I just pray she hasn’t fallen that far again.
