Love Lessons

Chapter Three

Valerie

The entire length of Valerie’s naked body was pressed against a hard, warm, and equally naked body. Her head was comfortably

nestled on his chest, while his hand moved gently against her back. She almost didn’t want to move. She had never snuggled

before, and it felt good. Too good. In the deepest crevices of her dreamy mind she knew that there was something she had to

do. Something important. Staying in bed and having more sex was not an option. But why?

Why not enjoy more sleep in the world’s comfiest bed with the world’s comfiest man and then wake up sometime later—much later—with

some more sex? Why did that feel impossible? He’d taken her for quite a ride last night and she wanted to ride—ride— Airplane!

She had a plane to catch!

Valerie shot up from the bed. “Crap! What time is it?”

Andrew startled and sat up, causing her to topple over. She quickly righted herself as Andrew looked around the room in confusion. When their eyes met, he smiled slowly. Oh God... that smile. He reached across the bed, wrapped his arm around her waist, and pulled her to him, but she pushed away, even if she liked where his mind was.

Jeez. It wasn’t fair how men could wake up looking so great.

Last night had not been a drunken mistake. It was a stupid, stone-cold-sober mistake. Ugh. Why? Why? Why? Oh yeah, she knew why. She’d been caught up in the moment. The man was hot and available, and she’d seen him in a different

light, at home with their friends and coworkers. He’d been nice and... There was no excuse. She’d wanted it. He’d wanted

it. And now it was the next morning and, well... she didn’t regret it, exactly. It had been good. Extraordinary, actually.

Hell, she was tempted to go in for a repeat before she had to run out the door. But, assuming they both returned to GPA next

school year, this was a terrible idea. Plus, it was Andrew Wexler. He was a jerk—except when his mouth was busy on other things.

Sexual things.

“No. No. No. No,” Andrew said with a tsk when Valerie pulled the comforter higher up her chest. “We’re two consenting adults,

and there’s not going to be the weird-next-morning situation.”

“I wasn’t being weird,” she said. “I have a flight to catch and I wasn’t planning on sleeping over.” That wasn’t a lie. She

should have left right after the sex, but he’d been so warm and delicious, and he had held her in his arms in a way that made

her want to stay the night. It had been so long since she’d felt protected and cared for that she’d melted right into him

and fallen asleep.

But it was Andrew Wexler. Her mind couldn’t reconcile that this was the same man whom she’d fought with, almost daily, for four years. The man whom she’d always seen as just another human. A nonsexual human. Well, he was handsome, she wasn’t blind. But his assholeness trumped any physical attraction she could have had toward him.

But now in the cold light of day— damn —the man had quite the body. She’d never been particularly attracted to shoulders, but there was something about the way the

muscles in his biceps and the upper part of his chest contracted when he moved his arms. Those sweaters did not do anything

for his body.

“You’re Andrew Wexler. We hate each other. We’re going to be sharing a wall again in a few months, and my loud music is going

to piss you off. We got caught up in the moment is all.”

A look came over his face, and she realized that the words had hurt him somehow. “What the fuck am I saying? You’re right.

This was a terrible idea.” He rubbed his palm over his face as he said it.

Like a balloon, she deflated. His words cut through her. He’d simply agreed with her, but she felt pain. She was a stupid woman. Thankfully, he couldn’t hear her warring thoughts, but he’d said the same things she was hoping she’d been wrong to have said. “This may be the first and only time you hear these words come out of my mouth, but you’re absolutely right, Wexler.” She yanked the sheets with her as she slid out of bed. She didn’t want him to see the heat of humiliation rise up her neck and cheeks. She could not believe she had thought for even a second about sleeping with him again. Having a one-night stand was not the humiliating part. It was that he hated her and that he wanted her gone as much as she wanted to be gone. It was all over his face. Maybe he noticed, because he released the sheets and turned around, giving her his back as he sat at the edge of the bed finding his clothes.

She wrapped the mess of sheets around herself while scrambling around the room looking for her clothes.

“Six,” he said as he slid his boxer briefs up his legs. She should’ve looked away, but she couldn’t help but peek over her

shoulder. There were red marks from where her nails had clawed him. Oh God, she was going to throw up. She needed to get out.

“Valerie? Did you hear me? You asked about the time. It’s six in the morning.” He’d caught her staring. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yeah. I just—I have a plane to catch at ten. I need to go.”

She scrambled to the bathroom and closed the door behind her and locked it. Once inside, she leaned back against the door

and took a deep breath.

Glancing at the mirror, she slid her skirt up her legs. Jeez, she was a mess. She splashed some water on her face and then

brushed her teeth with her finger, using the toothpaste that was neatly placed on the sink. Hell, everything was neat. The

only thing on the counter was a toothbrush and the toothpaste. Where was all his stuff?

Her bathroom had perfume, makeup, lotions, and hair ties all over the place. Quietly, so that he wouldn’t think her a snoop,

she opened the small drawer by the sink, hoping she would find a hairbrush. Everything was in trays in the drawer, like the

TikTok videos she watched and envied. Of course he’d be neat and organized. She found a brush and quickly tamed her long black

hair, and once she felt moderately normal again, she walked out of the room.

She would be in Haiti in a few hours. That’s all she cared about at the moment. That’s where all her focus was.

Last night she hadn’t been paying much attention to his bedroom, but now she took a moment to look around. Again, very neat,

except for the unmade bed. Unlike the light and airiness of the rest of the house, here he had matching chocolate-brown furniture.

As if he’d gone to the closest furniture store and bought the showroom bedroom. Even the lamps looked like they were part

of the package. The walls were the same cream color as the rest of the house. The sheets were white, and there were some modern

paintings on the wall. It was... nice.

“I’m making coffee,” he yelled from the kitchen.

She needed her purse, which was in the kitchen. Ugh. She’d have to walk out of his bedroom and talk to him.

“I’m good,” she said from the kitchen doorway.

He looked up from where he was turning on the coffee maker. “About last night—”

“Nope. We’re not doing the about-last-night talk. Like you said, it was a mistake.”

“I didn’t mean—”

She waved her hands around. “It’s cool. I gotta run but, um... so, yeah, thanks, I guess.”

“Marq—Valerie, wait.”

She stopped, a hand already on the doorknob. It was the softness in his tone. His hand was on her shoulder before she had

a chance to turn around. “We don’t have to—I mean—we could try to be friends?” It came out like a question. Poor guy. He was

being as awkward as she felt.

She laughed. “It’s fine, Wexler. Let’s not pretend we like each other just because we had a great night together.”

“Great?”

“Good,” she amended.

“You said great.”

“I meant nice.”

He chuckled.

“Look, it had been a long time. Anything would have been great, good, nice.” She threw her hands up in the air. Why hadn’t

she just turned the knob and left when she’d had the chance? His lips turned upward. The stupid dimple winked at her. Ordinarily,

his dirty-blond hair was perfectly combed, with a side part, and his face was smooth. Now there was fuzz on his face, and

his hair was wild and standing on end in a casually handsome sort of way. It was a disconcerting look. He looked well-sated

and dreamy. His eyes, eyes she’d always thought were brownish hazel, were actually moss green. And the man hadn’t put on a

shirt. Her eyes trailed down his body, where there was a healthy amount of hair splayed across his chest, before she quickly

looked back up.

“For what it’s worth, I thought it was great too,” he said.

There was a moment when neither spoke. She could feel the heady mix of regret and lust hovering around the room. Because,

for all that they hated each other, she knew that there was an undeniable attraction that seemed to have been ignited last

night.

At that precise moment Valerie knew two things. One: she didn’t actually hate Andrew Wexler as much as she thought she did. And two: she needed to finish packing and get on a plane before she did anything else she’d end up regretting.

“Hola, Mami,” Valerie said into the phone, her mother’s face coming into view through FaceTime.

“Como estas, mija?” Valerie’s mom replied breathlessly. It was nine in the morning, which undoubtedly meant that Anabel Marquez

was in the gym for either Tai Chi or Zumba. Her mother had worked out twice a day since she’d retired. “It’s a short plane

ride. Why are you so tired, mija? You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” she said. Her mom wasn’t one to mince words. She knew she looked terrible, she’d seen herself in the mirror. But

leave it to her mother to say out loud the things Valerie didn’t want to hear. “I didn’t sleep well last night. But I’m okay.”

“Let me guess, you spent all night packing because you left it until the last minute?”

She did leave packing until the last minute, but that’s not what she’d spent all night doing. Of course, she didn’t say that

to her mother. “You know me so well, Mom.”

“You should try to rest. Un cocimiento de tilo y unos pepinos de abajo de esos ojos,” her mom advised.

“I’ll see what I can do, Mom,” she replied, as if she had actually brought cucumbers and linden tea with her to Haiti. She

was only able to bring a carry-on for a two-month trip in one of the poorest places in the world. The bags under her eyes

didn’t bother her as much as they undoubtedly bothered her mother.

“How is it so far?” her mother asked.

“So far everyone’s been very nice. But I’ve only been here a few hours. They call me Pwofesè, which means teacher or professor, and they decorated my room with fresh flowers from the area.”

“Good. Good. Bueno, mi amor, I have to go. Class is about to start. Love you. Rest.” And then her mother hung up.

She sighed. It no longer upset Valerie the way her mother didn’t prioritize her or the constant criticism. But it had taken

a lot of therapy and maturity.

Anabel had been an immigrant. She’d come to America from Cuba as a teenager with Valerie’s grandparents and had worked very

hard to care for herself and help her family, while learning English and living in a foreign country. Anabel didn’t understand

Valerie’s need to learn about different cultures. She couldn’t fathom that Valerie chose to spend time in third-world countries

when Valerie’s grandparents had fled Cuba to avoid exactly what Valerie was choosing to live in: poverty and struggle.

Anabel felt that Valerie’s need to see the world was self-indulgent and a waste of all the resources Anabel had given her

daughter. Anabel’s life had always been work, work, and more work. For years Valerie thought her mother didn’t love her the

way other mothers loved their children. Once her father left them and her mother took up two jobs, all she did was work and

sleep, work and sleep. Valerie had always felt like a burden.

And then a couple years ago Anabel did the most un-Anabel thing—she retired. Now she spent her days at the gym, or by the beach, or in the mall. They spoke often, but the years in which mothers and daughters bonded had come and gone, and no matter how much Valerie wanted that mother figure, it just wasn’t really there. That’s not to say that they didn’t love each other—they did. Very much. But their relationship was stilted, and there were a lot of topics that brought up criticism, so Valerie avoided them and focused on superficial matters.

Through therapy, Valerie had also learned that the criticism came from a place of love, which was a hard pill to swallow.

Anabel wanted the best for her daughter, and that was the way she expressed it. In her eyes, she wasn’t criticizing Valerie,

she was making suggestions. Once Valerie had come to terms with all this, being Anabel’s daughter became easier. So the quick

calls didn’t bother her. In fact, they were for the best.

After graduating from college, Valerie had gotten a job with Teachers Without Borders. Originally, she’d done it because they’d

had a program that would help pay off her student loans. But four years ago, in the middle of the Congo, she woke up feeling

lost. What was she doing with her life? Was it selfish to want more? She hadn’t put roots down anywhere. She was essentially homeless, traveling the world, living out of a suitcase, without any

creature comforts. As selfish as it sounded, she missed having a washing machine; she wanted more than four pairs of underwear;

she wanted a real bed, and friends.

She hadn’t been ready to completely give up her wandering spirit, but she’d gone from volunteering year-round to only summers. And, when she’d made that decision to find a job and a house, she’d decided on Miami. As luck would have it, GPA had been hiring. She thought she’d never call Miami her home again. And now even going away for the summers was hard. The excitement had dwindled. She was almost thirty years old. Even though she loved traveling and helping others, she felt as if she were running away from being an adult. The void that these experiences had originally filled wasn’t there anymore.

The summer had literally just started, and Valerie already felt a sense of homesickness she’d never felt before. Plus, she

was worried about her job. Had Carmichael been bluffing? She needed that job—without it she’d be lost.

Yesterday had been a hectic day. Waking up in Andrew’s house, rushing home to finish packing, and jumping on a plane to Haiti,

then sitting three hours in a rickety bus to her new living quarters had taken its toll. Teachers Without Borders provided

her with room and board, and this year she’d been assigned to a room in a local professor’s home. His wife and two children

had been welcoming and had shown her to her room. Even if Jean Achille and his family were wealthy by the standards in Haiti,

she was in a tiny room, with a small bed with a thin mattress. A mosquito net covered a window that did not close properly.

She’d slept in worse conditions, so this didn’t bother her too much. She politely declined dinner and opted for a quick cold

shower and sleep instead.

When her head finally hit the pillow after the longest day of her life, she felt herself start to relax. With the relaxation

came the memories of the previous night. She felt a phantom tingle where his tongue had been, where he’d touched her with

his fingers, where he’d nibbled. It was hard to think that a man like Andrew Wexler could send her pulse racing. She hoped

it had been a one-off and that she’d stop thinking about him soon.

Unfortunately, the way her heart and belly did a flip when she thought of him wasn’t a good omen.

Andrew

Did I just see your résumé in my inbox?” Luis asked. The phone was on speaker while Andrew worked on figuring out how to connect

two pipes from the kitchen that were leaking.

“You know that Carmichael may not bring one of us back, and I don’t want to see myself jobless in a month,” Andrew said. He

had submitted his résumé to other schools just in case Carmichael chose Valerie over him. His credentials were far superior

to hers, of that he was sure. Not to brag, but his class always scored higher on the state assessments than any other kindergarten

class in the state. Even though many people argued that kindergarten was just a glorified day care, Andrew took his job extremely

seriously. Good habits were learned from an early age. Once a child began to grasp basic skills, they’d be set up for the

first grade and so on and so forth. A child who left kindergarten without the basic knowledge of the alphabet, some basic

reading, and math would be at a disadvantage for the rest of their educational lives.

“You’re not going to get fired, dude,” Luis said with a laugh. “There’s no way. Carmichael was just scaring you two into behaving.”

“Maybe so, but if it goes to the board, they’ll pick Valerie over me, you know that as well as I do.”

“No, actually, I don’t. Elaborate.”

“I’m a good teacher. I know that. My students always score highest in all tests, but I know that Marquez has that likability factor that I don’t have,” he said. There wasn’t a person alive who didn’t love Valerie Marquez. Sometimes he felt bad that his own class looked at her classroom with longing. But fun did not equate with a good education. He had a strict curriculum that had proven results. He challenged his kids, and they, in turn, learned. Eventually, the kids warmed up to him; he wasn’t an ogre, after all. He smiled and laughed with them, and they did go on field trips and do fun activities. But they didn’t have watercolor wars, a class pet, bring their toys to class day, or any other silly thing like that. So, to say he was anxious to hear from Carmichael was an understatement.

“Everyone loves her.”

“Except you,” Luis added.

Since the night they’d spent together, Andrew wasn’t sure how exactly he felt about Valerie anymore. He didn’t say this, though.

“Anyway, you have a job here if you need one, but I really doubt you’ll need one—and what’s all that racket in the background?”

“I told you that I was fixing my folks’ house so we can sell it.” His mother was in an assisted living facility, which he

visited a few times a week. She had friends and was well cared for. But the house... that was something that had not been

well cared for, and it had become his summer distraction.

“But it sounds like you’re bulldozing something. It doesn’t sound like fixing.”

Andrew laughed. “It’s a hammer, sorry,” he said, and stopped to speak to Luis without the noise. “The house is in worse shape

than I thought. After Dad died ten years ago, Mom kinda neglected the house. I should’ve been more attentive to it.”

“You were busy getting your master’s. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I know. I’m not, but it’s going to need more than a few cosmetic upgrades. There are plumbing issues, and don’t even get me started on the electricity. You almost lost your best friend, dude,” he said.

“I’ve known you for a long time, and I don’t ever remember seeing you do any kind of construction. Do you even have a toolbox?”

“I’ll have you know that I am now the proud owner of a toolbox and a tool belt! I have a drill now and five different-size

pliers.”

“I didn’t know that pliers came in an assortment of sizes.”

“Neither did I, man, neither did I.”

His friend laughed before they said their goodbyes and hung up. He picked up the hammer again and looked at the pipes that

were just not going to fit together, even if he pounded them into submission. There were days when he regretted taking on

such a huge project and days when he felt prouder of himself than when he’d gotten his master’s diploma. He’d YouTubed plumbing

and carpentry and had been doing all the work himself. Everything except electric. Even with YouTube, he had tried to change

an old light fixture and shocked himself into next week. He refused to mess with it and paid the electrician without a moment

of hesitation. But everything else, thus far, he’d been able to do, and he was pretty proud of himself. His dad was surely

smiling down at him.

Of course, the biggest distraction of all had been Valerie. She’d been on his mind more often than he cared to admit. How could she not? They’d shared a night together that he would fantasize about for years to come. She’d been passionate and just as mouthy as ever as she came apart in his arms. Just thinking about that night made him hard. How would it be if they continued working together next school year? Would she be willing to sleep with him again? Was it a one-time-only situation? Would she go back to hating him?

Andrew sat on the floor of one of the rooms that had not yet been gutted and ate a sandwich he’d brought from home. He grabbed

his phone to check his email, something he’d been doing too often.

“Oh shit!” he said, surprised that there was a new email and it was from Carmichael. The ham and cheese got stuck in his throat.

He couldn’t afford to be fired. “Motherfucker waited a month to email,” he mumbled to himself.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]; [email protected]

Subject: New School Year

Dear Andrew it was another thing altogether having to work in close quarters.

How would that even work? They had completely different teaching styles and philosophies. Not to mention, they’d slept together. Like, really slept together. It had not been a quick screw with clothes on against a door. He had held her as she came. He’d seen her “O face” and felt her squeeze around his cock. He’d seen her completely naked, touched her body, licked her thighs...

He groaned and pushed his half-eaten sandwich aside.

He would let her answer first and see what she’d say.

It was Tuesday of the following week, and Valerie had not yet replied. At least, she hadn’t replied all. He wondered if she’d

emailed Carmichael separately and said a big fat NO WAY.

After a long day at his parents’ old house, his muscles ached, and he was bone tired. He opened up a beer and took a long

pull. Maybe he should just text her.

Instead, he called Luis.

“Yo, how’s it going?” Luis said.

“Everything’s good. Didn’t get fired.”

“Told you,” he said.

“But Ol’ B fell during the storm and my classroom was totaled.”

“Oh shit,” Luis said.

“It gets better. Carmichael wants Marquez and I to work together. They are uniting our classrooms.”

“Ohhhh...”

“Exactly,” Andrew said.

“I loved that tree. That entire courtyard was the only piece of old Miami left on campus.”

“I know. Sucks. Valerie hasn’t answered yet, so I’m not sure if she accepted or not.”

“Are you going to accept?”

“Do I have a choice? I’m not going to quit my job because the woman is nuts.”

“She’s actually not that bad,” Luis said with a chuckle. “Why don’t you call her and ask her, like a normal person? If she accepts, you’re going to have to work together. May as well start now, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” Andrew said.

“Why don’t you come up and have a beer this weekend? You can see the area, just in case you really do have to come work at

my school,” Luis said with a laugh.

“I think I will. Not because I’m going to go work there, but to visit your sorry ass in your new habitat,” Andrew said.

“Sounds good, man. See ya.”

Maybe Luis was right. Valerie was obviously not going to be the reasonable person to call or text first, so he decided he

would do it.

Andrew scrolled through his phone and found her number. They’d been working together for a long time, and there’d been group

texts, and substitute requests, and “hey watch my class for a minute while I pee” texts.

Fuck it.

Her phone sounded weird when it rang. Where did she say she was going? Was she out of the country? When she didn’t answer

he decided to send her a text.

Andrew: Hello, Valerie. I hope you are enjoying your summer thus far. Did you have a chance to look over Carmichael’s proposition?

I was wondering what your thoughts were.

A minute later:

Andrew: It’s Andrew, by the way.

Andrew: Andrew Wexler.

Valerie

Valerie woke up to the sun hitting her face and a rooster cock-a-doodle-dooing somewhere nearby. She stretched her arms and wiped her face. She would miss her tiny little room and the Achille family, who had been so very hospitable. But she couldn’t wait to be back home. She wanted to catch up with her mom and friends before the next school year began. Maybe she should have sent out résumés. Looked for another job. The truth was, Wexler would most likely get the job if it was a toss-up between the two of them. He was a better teacher than she was, regardless of her likability factor.

Aaron, her mentor at Teachers Without Borders, had offered her a job once before, but she didn’t think that was what she really wanted to do permanently. He had been with the program since its inception and was on the advisory board. A permanent position with the organization was an option, but it wasn’t the option she wanted. She missed home. So much so, in fact, that she’d been unusually emotional the past few days. She had a lump in her throat every time she thought of her mom and how it had been too long since she’d seen her. They’d had a rocky relationship, and more often than not, she didn’t “get” her mother, but she still loved her. She also really, really missed her students. She wondered what Jacob had done during the summer, and if Roslin’s mother had had her baby and if it had been a girl or a boy. Roslin would be a wonderful big sister. She missed the smell of glue and crayons. She also missed small, insignificant things like ice being readily available when she wanted a cold drink, her mother’s arroz con pollo, extra-hot Takis, and air-conditioning.

She found herself crying again. What the heck was wrong with her? She was not this person. Last year she’d barely thought

of home, and this year she’d been a mess from the moment she stepped foot off the plane. In fact, last week, one of her students,

Widelene, had finally been able to read an entire paragraph in The House on Mango Street , and Valerie had been so happy for her, she cried. Her class had been so moved, they’d rushed over and hugged her.

Valerie wiped the tears from her eyes and rolled over to grab her phone from the nightstand. It was still early, and she didn’t

have to be at the center for another two hours.

Every day was a game of Wi-Fi roulette. Sometimes it was spotty, and there were times it was nonexistent.

At some point throughout the night, there must’ve been a connection, because she had a bunch of notifications. There were

seven emails, several texts, and countless social media notifications ranging from a few hours’ to a week old.

She sat up when she saw a text message from Andrew and then laughed at the fact that he’d said his name. First and last. As if she wouldn’t have known it was him. But then she read the message again. She had no idea what he was talking about. She hadn’t read her school email since she arrived, because, well, school was out for the summer.

She opened her email and started to read. “Oh no,” she gasped. Ol’ B was no more. She loved that tree. What about all the nests and baby birds? And her classroom was being demolished? That was terrible. She hoped to God that someone would remove her Dolphin memorabilia

from the walls before they demolished anything. And then the fact that she had to work with Andrew. She had secretly hoped

she wouldn’t have to see him again. She knew she would, of course. That night had been off-the-charts spectacular. So much

so, she had run away. Literally. Where had that feminist hard-assed woman gone? She had run away like a chicken. She had been

an active and willing participant. But in the morning she’d gone and felt awkward.

Valerie: Spotty reception. Reading it now.

Andrew: Where are you?

Valerie: Haiti.

Andrew: Damn, you didn’t just leave my house. You left the country. Was it that bad for you?

Valerie: Stop talking about it. You’re making it weird. It was a one-night thing. We agreed. Secretly. In our heads.

They’d never said the words that she’d been thinking, but it was a given. Andrew wasn’t dumb enough to think they’d have sex,

magically not hate each other, and then fall in love. It was ridiculous.

Sex had been the perfect scenario for both of them. Or so she had assumed. They’d scratched an itch and moved on. Had he thought

it had been something different? Did she actually hurt his feelings? She didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, even his.

Valerie: Wait. Did you have different expectations after that night?

Andrew: Yes. I thought you were my girlfriend now.

Oh my God. She dropped the phone like it was a hot potato. The phone dinged again, but she was scared to look. Girlfriend?

Seriously? She hadn’t been in a serious relationship in a long time. Her past relationships had all been flops. Maybe she

was the problem? She got bored too easily. Once that initial stage of lust and passion started to fizzle, so did her attraction.

But the thought of being Andrew’s girlfriend made her heart thump wildly in her chest and the butterflies in her stomach do

a little cartwheel.

Andrew: Relax, Marquez. I was just messing with you. It was what it was. One night to get all the tension out of our systems. It’s

out. Now, apparently, we have to work together. Are you in? We have to give an answer today.

For some weird reason that she couldn’t explain, that sort of hurt. Why didn’t he want to be with her? She was awesome. Amazing.

A total catch.

Valerie: Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll send an email to Carmichael now.

Andrew: We need to draft a curriculum that can work for both of us.

Valerie: Plenty of time for that, Wexler.

The butterflies stopped fluttering. She was clearly confusing passion with anger.

Andrew: Not really. We have a month and you’re not in town. I need to organize my current curriculum to account for yours. Are you

going to teach certain classes and I’ll teach others, or are we going to swap days? There’s a lot to ponder.

Valerie: This is going to be a mess.

Andrew: Agreed. When do you get back to Miami?

Valerie: August 15.

Andrew: Okay. I’ll try to work out some different options, and we can meet for coffee when you return to discuss.

Valerie: Fine.

And that was the end of the conversation. He was as cold as always. She quickly sent an acceptance email to Carmichael, asked

about her Dolphins memorabilia, and told him he’d been very cruel making them think they’d be fired. A few minutes later,

an email from Andrew, also accepting, came through. She then realized that he hadn’t accepted until now. He had been waiting

to see what she would say before he replied.

Always games with Andrew. Always. She had to remember that when the semester began.