Chapter 32
COLTON
AUGUST — ONE WEEK TO WIN OVER THE FACULTY
Quinn snuggles up on my lap in the large armchair we pulled over to the window so we can look out at the view. I run my mouth down the curve of her neck, settling her more firmly on my lap.
It has been thirty-one hours since Quinn told me she loved me—not that I’m counting—and my mind can’t quite comprehend it.
We’ve spent every one of those thirty-one hours in bed.
But now we have to split up for different dinners, and I hate the idea of not being by her side.
The second I get back, I’m dragging her to bed where she belongs.
“This view is incredible,” she says.
“Is that why you’ve been sleeping with me all summer? You’re pissed I got to the room before you, so you’re employing other strategies to access it?”
She chuckles, and the way her body vibrates from the noise goes straight to my dick. “It isn’t the worst thing I’d do for this view.”
I nip at the spot where her shoulder and neck meet before sliding out from underneath her, and I love the way she reaches after me.
“Don’t leave,” she whines, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to lift her perfect ass up and slide back in place.
“I can’t keep Dr. Cassia waiting,” I say, even though I want to.
It’s more important than ever that I maintain my relationship with Dr. Cassia now that Richard has it out for me, so when she planned a last-minute visit to her family and asked me to grab dinner, I made it work, even though it means I’ll have to miss the goodbye dinner.
And worse, I’ll have to be away from Quinn.
“Want to join?” I ask, even knowing she won’t say yes.
She rolls her eyes, a teasing smile playing on those full lips. “I think one professor skipping the final dinner is enough, don’t you?”
“Oh, come on. The students are much more interested in talking to each other than us. They won’t care. She’d love to see you.”
She runs her thumb across her bottom lip. “Things ended kind of strangely when I decided not to go into the field. She didn’t agree with my choices, and our last conversation was… tense.”
My brow furrows. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“It wasn’t bad bad, like with my parents. She just said I was making a mistake. I didn’t want to cause issues between you.”
I lean down, arms braced on either side of the chair. “Anyone else I need to hate?”
She nudges my shoulder. “Stop, I don’t hate her, and neither should you. It’s just a bit awkward, and I’ve had my fill of awkwardness this summer.”
“Okay. I’ll be back later tonight.” I lean down and kiss her goodbye, savoring the fact that I can.
She chuckles against my lips. “This is a thing we do now?”
“Damn straight it is.” Technically, we still haven’t discussed what we are to each other. Silly, when we’ve both said I love you, but still a necessary step. “We should have a conversation, shouldn’t we?”
“You mean we can’t just be friends who are in love with each other and fuck on the side?” she asks, a teasing glint in her eye.
“The uncertainty may get tiring after fifty or so years.”
She bites her lip, her deep eyes twinkling. “You think you’ll still like me in fifty years?”
“I was always going to like you in fifty years. You letting me see you naked is just an extra incentive,” I say as I walk over to the door. “But if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late. Talk when I get home?”
She smirks. “Don’t spend the whole dinner with your mentor thinking about how I’ll suck your dick tonight.”
I groan and grip the door handle so hard the edges cut into my skin. “You’re evil.”
She laughs. “See you soon, Colton.”
I rush out of the apartment before I blow off Dr. Cassia to drag Quinn back into bed. I need this meeting. She wants an update on my research, and I need her opinion on how to move forward after the shit show with Richard.
She’s already seated at our favorite restaurant when I arrive. She kisses each cheek and couples it with a tight squeeze. “You look well.”
“Thank you, Dr. Cassia. You too.”
She rolls her eyes. “Colton, I’ve told you many times to call me Gianna. We’re colleagues.”
I chuckle as I tuck my napkin onto my lap. “Still feels weird.”
“Well, practice, dear. Now, tell me all about this summer.”
I fill her in on my classes and involvement with the Rome program, plus the research I’m hoping to publish. We brainstorm on how that will impact my standing at Billings and the pre-tenure review I have coming up next year.
“I did run into one issue,” I say as the waiter clears my entrée and sets down dessert. I wanted to leave this for the end of the meal. I know it will lead to a lecture, and I didn’t want it to spoil my steak.
Dr. Cassia—Gianna—lifts an eyebrow. “What?”
I clear my throat. “An argument with Richard Riley.”
“What sort of argument?”
“It was about Quinn.”
She shakes her head. “I always knew that would end up being an issue with Richard. Is she here this summer?”
“She’s teaching a class in the program with me.”
She beams. “That’s fantastic. She always had a way in front of people. I’m sure she’s doing a superb job.”
I glance down, moving things around the table to distract from the dopey smile I get whenever I talk about her. “She is. But while talking to Richard, she came up. He said some… unflattering things about her.”
“And you defended her honor.” She smiles indulgently at me. “You always were sweet on her.”
I don’t touch that. She’s been my mentor for twelve years, and our relationship has always been more personal than the one with Richard, but talking about my love life is a step too far for me.
She settles further into her seat, crossing her arms. “So, how bad was it?”
I rub my hand over the back of my neck, keeping my focus on the plates in front of us so I don’t have to see her reaction. “Bad. He gave the impression he’s going to tank my career.”
She sucks in a breath. “Call him as soon as we’re done here and apologize.”
I look up then. “Absolutely not. He was wrong.”
“Of course he was wrong. But sometimes you have to eat your words to keep your career moving forward.”
“That’s bullshit. And weak.”
Her eyebrows raise to her hairline. “Weak? It’s real.
You have lived in a bubble of support since you entered this field.
I’m not saying you’re not immensely talented, because you are, but you are also very, very lucky.
Richard and I have pushed for you, your opportunities and positions.
You may not find the field so welcoming when one of its leaders is against you. ”
I rub both hands down my face. “So I throw away my morals and beliefs for a job?”
“Do you know how many microaggressions I’ve smiled through?
How many subtle sexist comments I ignored as a woman pursuing a PhD in the eighties?
I fumed and swore and screamed to my family and friends, but I kept my head down until I got tenure.
Then, and only then, was I able to make real changes. You need to do the same.”
I grumble, “I’ll think about it.”
She watches me for a beat of silence, then nods. “Now, besides derailing your career, tell me how Quinn’s been.”
A smile spreads across my face and Dr. Cassia—Gianna—chuckles. “She’s great. I’m supervising the first class she’s teaching, and she’s doing an amazing job.”
“I’m glad she changed her mind about her career path. I always thought she should have stuck with our field. Granted, I could have voiced my opposition in a kinder way. I’ve always regretted that.”
“She’s not teaching history. We have an internship program and she’s teaching a class for those students.”
Gianna hums as she chewed a bit of her dessert. “So, she stuck with it.”
I nod. “It’s part of what Richard and I fought about. He thinks she had a mental breakdown after losing the Harrow Fellowship, and that’s why she didn’t pursue her PhD.”
She laughs. “Seems like that plan of hers backfired.”
My eyebrows draw together. “What plan?”
“She thought when she gave up the fellowship, her father would let go of his plans for her.”
I feel like someone’s punched me in the gut.
Gave up the fellowship.
“But she didn’t give up the fellowship. She didn’t get it.” Please tell me she didn’t get it.
“She asked me to keep it quiet. Richard would have been furious if she publicly pulled out of the running, so she asked to keep her name up, but pulled out of consideration.”
My throat goes tight. When did swallowing become so difficult? “Did she get it, then? Or she pulled out before the choice was made?”
“She got it. I called her into my office to celebrate before it was formally announced, but she went off about how she didn’t deserve it and didn’t want it. You two never talked about this? I thought you told each other everything.”
Apparently not.
Every interaction about the fellowship comes slamming back into me.
You have nothing to be sorry for.
You deserve this.
I was happy for you then, and I’m happy for you now.
They’d have been idiots not to pick you.
She was never upset about losing the fellowship because she never lost it. And I didn’t win it. My best friend handed it to me.
Dr. Cassia keeps talking, unaware that she’s taken my world apart in one sentence. A single thread pulled from a tapestry, and the whole thing unraveled. I’ve been so confident in my career, and it’s all been built on that one day in April when they called my name instead of Quinn’s.
It isn’t about beating Quinn specifically. But I read her work. It was good. And I know how much pull her father has. He’s one of the past recipients, for Christ’s sake. The community witnessed her grow up and watched the progression of her career. They were rooting for her.
And in my mind, beating her meant I had to be better than good. Better than great.
Now I’m questioning everything. The impostor syndrome Quinn talked me out of years ago slams back into me in full force. Am I really good? Or am I the best mediocre option after the real winner said no?
And, more terrifying, is my success mine, or is it actually the result of Richard and Dr. Cassia pushing me forward? Do I have a completely false sense of my worth?
And, most terrifying of all, if my success is based on the support of people in the field, have I screwed my chances of tenure by pissing off Richard Riley?
I have to get tenure. If I don’t, I can’t cover my expenses. My mom would lose the house she loves so much, the first true home she’s ever had.
I’m not only down a recommendation, but now I have someone who’s actively working against my success.
Even if I were willing to walk it back—which I’m not, Quinn doesn’t deserve that—I don’t think Richard is the type to forgive and forget.
A few subtle comments here, a rejected conference presentation proposal there, and he’ll make it clear where he stands on my work.
I move through the rest of the dinner on autopilot, numb to the world around me. But that numbness mutates into fury as I walk home. How could Quinn do that? How could she hide this from me, let me believe that I won it on my own merit?
But all other thoughts fly out of the window when I walk through the door to our apartment to find something so much worse than the fight I’d already started in my head.