Chapter 32
Gabrielle
The stone steps were warm beneath me, baked smooth by the May sun filtering through the ancient oak overhead.
From here, I had a clear view of the green, where rows of guests sat in white folding chairs.
The ceremony moved steadily, graduate by graduate.
They were in the S-names now—only a handful of students left to cross the stage.
I wasn’t technically supposed to be here.
I wasn’t graduating. I wasn’t family. And I wasn’t seated in the guest section.
But no one had stopped me when I’d wandered over here alone, tucked into the shadow of the stone steps leading to the old science building.
And if they had, I’d have found a reason.
Because Cal was out there, seated on the aisle in full academic regalia.
Hood, gown, tam. Regal, unreadable, breathtaking.
And entirely out of reach.
My heart pinched as another graduate paused for a handshake and a photo. I twisted my fingers in my lap. All I wanted—really wanted—was to be beside him. Not hiding. Not stealing glances from behind a tree or scraping excuses to exist on the edges of his world.
But we were leaving for England tomorrow. And there, for the first time, he wouldn’t be keeping me a secret. The thought was equal parts exhilarating and terrifying—like jumping off the high dive without knowing how deep the water was.
My phone buzzed in my lap.
Aunt Suzy.
I grimaced. Worst possible timing. Still, I swiped to answer and lifted the phone. “Hey,” I said, soft and cautious. Before I could get another word out—
“What do you mean you’re going to England?” Aunt Suzy shrilled.
“Hang on,” I said, grabbing my purse and popping to my feet. I hurried down the length of Melvin Hall. “Let me get somewhere I can talk.”
“Where are you now? You haven’t already left, have you?” Her voice was screechy and strained.
I slipped around the side of the building, out of sight of the ceremony—and any watchful eyes. A gust of wind tugged at the hem of my dress as I tucked behind the limestone corner and braced for impact.
“I’m at commencement,” I answered. “But I stepped away.”
“Why are you at commencement?”
“A friend is walking,” I answered. Not technically a lie… “But I can talk for a minute.”
She huffed. “Okay. What’s this business about England?”
I took a deep breath. “I thought my email was pretty clear. My…boyfriend…”—another deep breath—“asked me to go with him.”
For once in her life, she was silent.
“Are you still there?”
“I’m here. I just don’t like it.”
I plopped down on a bench outside the library. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled patterns on the sidewalk that shifted with the breeze. “I’m still going.” My tone was quiet but resolute.
“If your father were still alive, he wouldn’t stand for you gallivanting around the globe with someone you barely know.”
“If my father were still alive,” I countered through gritted teeth, “he’d trust my judgment. Trust me to make my own decisions.”
“Gabrielle!” she hissed.
I said nothing.
“How are you even affording this?”
“Great deal on airfare,” I lied. Well, not technically. Actually, I’d never asked Cal about the airfare. But even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. He’d have told me not to worry, that it was already taken care of. “And we’re staying with his relatives, so no lodging cost.”
“Gabrielle, I’ve never even met this boy.”
“He’s a man, not a boy. And I’m not a child either.”
“I know, I know. But it’s still my job to look after you. I promised my brother—your dad—that I’d make sure you were taken care of.”
“And I appreciate you, Aunt Suzy. I do. But I’m fine.” A beat. “And I’m going to England with him.”
“Can I at least know his full name?”
“Cal—” I hesitated, blood thudding in my ears.
My gaze darted around until it landed on the carved name above the library entrance.
“Calvin Green.” The lie hit the air, and my stomach clenched.
To her, that name was real now—anchored, permanent.
I’d have to remember to ask what Cal was actually short for…
if I ever planned to tell her the truth.
“Calvin Green,” she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “Okay.” She went quiet for a beat. When she spoke again, her tone was subdued. “And you leave tomorrow?”
“Yes. We’ll be gone two weeks.”
Her controlled exhale whispered through the line. “All right,” she said at last, resigned. “Have a great time, and be safe.”
“I will.” Cheers erupted in the distance. The ceremony must have been drawing to a close. “Hey, I’ve got to get back. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Message me when you land. I don’t care what time it is. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I ended the call and made my way back to my sentry post on the stone steps of Melvin Hall. I loved these steps. I used to play on them as a kid, back when my dad brought me along to alumni events.
Final cheers erupted, echoing off the buildings around the green as the ceremony ended.
Caps flew like startled birds against the blue sky as music swelled from the loudspeakers.
I strained for a glimpse of Cal among the robed faculty, but from my vantage point on the outskirts, the once-orderly procession had already dissolved into a jubilant chaos.
Families surged forward, hugging and snapping photos while graduates shed their gowns, the air alive with laughter and celebration.
The weather couldn’t have been more perfect—sunny and warm.
A soft breeze tugged at the leaves above me, the scent of freshly cut grass sweet and sharp on the wind.
I scanned the crowd and finally spotted Cal walking alongside Dr. Watkins, chatting amiably as they headed toward the science building.
Cal’s scarlet Oxford robe billowed behind him like a banner, the deep blue hood vivid against it.
His velvet tam sat slightly askew atop his dark hair—careless, rakish, unfairly elegant.
My stomach flipped when he cast me a sideways glance. Even from a distance, he seemed to fill the entire landscape. I’d seen that robe hanging on the back of his office door before, but never like this—never on him. Pride swelled inside me, fierce and uncontainable.
God, he looked good.
I ducked my head, scrolling aimlessly through my phone as I stole another glance at him. He was drawing closer, robes flowing with each long stride, his pinstriped slacks peeking out from underneath.
As they neared the steps, Dr. Watkins spotted me, his face lighting with recognition. “Gabrielle!” he said, pausing with a wide grin. “I thought that was you. Congrats on finishing the year. How’d you do?”
I slipped my phone into my purse and stood, smoothing my dress. “Thanks, Dr. Watkins. It was a tough semester, but I pulled all As by some miracle.”
“So I hear,” he said, eyes twinkling as he glanced at Cal. “Dr. Hawthorne says you were one of his best. This man doesn’t hand out praise easily, you know.”
Cal kept his expression carefully neutral, though I caught the faintest tug at the corner of his mouth. “I do when it’s earned,” he said, holding my gaze for a second too long. The way he said it—quiet, deliberate—sent a shiver low in my spine. “And she certainly earned it.”
Dr. Watkins chuckled, but his eyes flicked between us. One eyebrow ticked—barely perceptible. If he noticed the undercurrent, he didn’t say so. Still, I had the distinct feeling he’d logged something away for later. He turned back to me, sincere again. “Well done, Gabrielle. We’re all very proud.”
“Thanks,” I said, heat creeping up my neck. The breeze played with the hem of my dress.
“Will I see you in my Modern Physics class next fall?” he asked, smiling over his sunglasses. “Fair warning, we hit Einstein by week two.”
Before I could come up with an answer that wasn’t a lie—but didn’t reveal that I was planning to transfer—Cal nudged him with an elbow. “Don’t frighten her off. Let her enjoy the break before you start unloading the syllabus.”
“Fair enough,” Dr. Watkins said with a laugh. “But if you’re around this summer, stop by. We just got a brand-spanking new piece of equipment for a project Dr. Hawthorne and I are working on.”
I glanced at Cal, then back at Dr. Watkins. “What sort of equipment?”
His eyes lit up. “A femtosecond laser system for ultrafast spectroscopy.”
I blinked. “Sounds intense, but all I got out of that was ‘laser.’”
“It can basically ‘freeze time’ at the quantum level,” he explained, his voice animated. “Perfect for studying how particles respond to electromagnetic fields or testing quantum field theory predictions.”
Cal’s mouth tipped into a sly grin. “You spend a million dollars to watch the universe blink.”
Dr. Watkins laughed. “Theoretical physicists,” he said with a wink. “No appreciation for the experimental wonders of the world.”
I laughed, bright and unrestrained. “And they say science is boring.”
He chuckled, his face flushed with enthusiasm. “You’re always welcome in the lab, Gabrielle. Anytime.”
I smiled, grateful and guilty all at once. If he’d known I was considering a transfer—no, planning on one—I doubted he’d be quite so eager.
Cal must have sensed my hesitation. “The equipment will still be there in the fall.” He clapped Dr. Watkins on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get these blasted robes hung up. I’m boiling.”
Cal started up the steps, then paused. He glanced back, eyes cutting through the shade like a flash of silver. A half-smile pulled at his mouth—just enough to register, gone just as fast.
“Enjoy your summer break, Miss Clark.” Even and polished. Nothing out of place.
I dipped my chin. “You too, Dr. Hawthorne.”
A flicker lit in his eyes. Nothing overt—just a spark caught and banked. He nodded once, turned, and disappeared inside, scarlet robes whispering behind him.