Chapter 39
Scarlett
Regan’s been hammering me for an update on my life.
Which has taken a few hell of a curvy turn.
I couldn’t put her off any longer. We meet outside a downtown bar with ropes of amber lights overhead in a heated front garden and customers who range from stiffs in suits with manicured nails to guys in jeans with calloused hands.
I’m happy to see her, but I’m not looking forward to hearing how I made a huge mistake marrying my professor for convenience, and we’ve already broken the rules and had sex.
Regan arrives with a burst of energy, happy to see me. Her shoulders are loose, her hair is down, and when she mentions the person the ambulance company hired to replace me, she’s not on the verge of crying over having to compensate for someone who doesn’t pull their weight.
It’s a relief, but I’m about to ruin that serenity. Or challenge it.
“I have some news,” I say, and watch the beer pint stop in front of her mouth.
“Oh my God. What? What is it?”
I smile. “Why do you sound like I’m about to announce I have six months to live?”
She stares at my drink. “You’re not pregnant because you’re drinking a vodka soda. Is it about Pierce?”
“Sort of.” I exhale and twist a napkin in my hand.
Time has really flown by. Between my classes and her shifts, it was wrong of me to wait to lay it all on her at once. But maybe it’s best to rip everything off like a Band-Aid. Rather than deliver drips of bad news that would have kept her worrying for weeks.
“I’ll start by saying that I’m fine. And in fact, I’m good.” Hell, I’m better than good, the way Cormac fucked me last night, I’m on cloud nine. “But Pierce pulled a fast one.”
She shakes her head. “I knew he would.”
“He’s got more pull than I gave him credit for.” I clear my throat. “Or wanted me more than I imagined. He got my student loan revoked, and I got kicked out of the apartment.”
“Scarlett!” she bellows. “You’ve been homeless all this time?”
“No.” I sip my drink, suddenly nervous to admit what I’m about to tell her. “I’ve been living with Cormac.”
As if she’d forget. And judging by the wide eyes, she hasn’t.
“Your professor? Your father will fire him.”
I sip my drink again, so I’m not vomit-confessing, talking a mile a minute. “He can’t fire his son-in-law,” I say over the rim of my glass.
Regan’s head tilts like a puppy hearing a squeak toy or the treat bag. “Son-in-law? How is your professor your father’s…”
It comes to her in an adorable wide-eyed stare. She looks straight down at my empty left hand.
“Hang on.” She twirls her finger at me to back up. “Explain. Everything. And I’ll need something stronger than beer for this.”
She signals the server to bring her what I’m drinking. When the server sets the tall cylinder glass of Grey Goose and seltzer with two limes before her, she takes a deep gulp.
After setting the glass down, she faces me squarely. “Now talk!”
I consider how much to indulge that Cormac has mafia ties and that I now have a driver who takes me everywhere. My eyes stray to the idling SUV with tinted windows at the curb.
“Apparently, my father told Cormac at his interview in August that he expects all professors to be married in order to get a full-time position at Hamilton.”
She throws back the rest of her vodka like it’s a shot. After swallowing, she says, “I need you to fill in more gaps.”
Grinning, I say, “When he couldn’t bear to marry anyone else, because he was still so into me, and I got screwed over by Pierce, he offered to marry me to fulfill that obligation, all while giving me a place to live and paying for my tuition.”
“You’re a walking, talking, dark romance novel.” Is Regan’s follow-up. “When was this wedding? Did my invitation get lost in the mail?”
I roll my eyes. “As soon as we told my father, he summoned an officiant, and we were married in his office.”
“No rings?” She stares down at my hand again.
“My father wants it to be quiet. Cormac played him. He said he’ll get me a ring for Christmas.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Is the marriage real? As in…with benefits?”
“It got pretty real last night.” I drag in a shaky breath.
Her brows fly up, and her voice jumps an octave. “Scarlett.”
I dig my nails into my thigh under the table. “Please don’t yell,” I whisper, leaning forward. “But yes, we had sex again.”
“Holy shit.” She presses a hand to her face. “Scarlett, you have to be careful with your heart this time. You left Pierce because you didn’t want to be married.”
“I know. I know.” My throat tightens. “But there’s something different about Cormac.”
Her voice gets low, though, “Are you happy?”
“Yeah, I’m very happy.”
Regan’s face softens. “Scarlett…” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “You’re falling for your husband.”
My eyes sting. “I think I already fell.”