Chapter 33
QUINN
The difference between where this summer started and where it’s ending is astounding.
I’m at the final dinner for the program, sandwiched between Sydney and Lynn.
The students laugh and joke at their own tables, trading stories about the summer and swiping away sneaky tears that escape now and then.
I remember that feeling, the heartbreaking realization that life will never be this perfect, this magical, again.
That even though these people and this moment will live vividly in my mind, the beauty of this moment will never be recaptured.
To my utter shock, the faculty and staff table is just as comfortable. We share our own stories, and when I speak, the professors give me their undivided attention. I even earn a few chuckles from Dr. Guarino. I catch Inez’s eyes, widening mine in shock.
I was shooting for mutual—if begrudging—respect this summer, but this is so much more. It’s fun and honest and comfortable, and I can see the future of Billings. The seven of us coming home and setting the new standard, the others following behind and reaching for the bar we’ve lifted.
“Oh, Quinn,” Andrea says from down the table. “I spoke with the English department chair yesterday, and she loves the workshop idea.”
I flick my eyes over to Inez, letting her see the flash of excitement I smother in the name of being professional. “That’s great to hear! We can get it on the calendar as soon as we’re home. If everyone’s on board, I can probably get the first one set up within the first month of the semester.”
“I knew you’d jump right on it,” Andrea says, clapping her hands together.
“She is shockingly efficient, isn’t she?” Dr. Guarino says, his tone dry, but there’s a sparkle in his eye I’ve only seen directed at his students.
I smirk back at him. “I’m endlessly disappointing to you, aren’t I?”
He laughs, his whole body shaking like a little Italian Santa Claus. My heart soars at being a part of this little family. Of them seeing my value and welcoming me. Celebrating me.
The dinner passes without anything of note, us eventually ushering the students out of the tables so the restaurant can clean up. There are tears and hugs and a million pictures as the students desperately try to capture everything.
Once the students wander off, I turn to Inez. “We headed home?”
She chews on her lip. “I… I’m going to meet Tomasso for a drink. There are some things we need to talk about. I’m going to tell him about the job offer.” She drops her voice to a whisper on the last words, shooting a nervous glance to where the professors stand a few feet away.
“Oh, wow,” I say. “That’s big.”
She hums, towing me further away. “We've been casual since I’ve always planned on leaving, but if I’m staying? An hour-and-a-half train ride is way different than a nine-hour plane trip. I don’t know...”
Tomasso’s a great guy. He would treat her the way she’s always deserved to be treated, but can she really know him well enough after only two months to make that call?
“Are you sure?” I ask, unable to stop myself. “That’s a big move for a man.”
Inez meets my eyes, her own steely in their determination. “He’s not why I’m taking it.”
And like a wave crashing over me, I finally realize that all my resolve to show her Billings is still the place for her was completely misplaced.
This job is what she wants. Not to get away from the toxicity of our school or to be close to Tomasso, but for herself.
I spent the summer obsessed with winning and keeping her, but I never stopped to consider if she wanted to be won over to begin with.
A breath whooshes out of me, and when I smile, it’s genuine. She’ll be incredible in this role, all crisis management, and what more can I ask for my best friend than for her to be happy and fulfilled? Her smile back’s massive and tinged with the smallest bit of relief.
I raise an eyebrow. “Okay, but Tomasso’s a pretty big pro, isn’t he?”
Inez giggles, chewing on her bottom lip. “I think I love him, Quinn.”
She’s always been a hopeless romantic, but she isn’t one to throw the word love around.
I can see her future with him. Starting long distance, then she’ll transfer to the Roman branch of Leonardo da Vinci.
Them having a half-dozen kids running around when Colton and I visit over the summer.
The idea of her leaving Boston still breaks my heart, but I’d never want her to sacrifice her own happiness for mine.
I wrap her in my arms, resting my chin on her shoulder. “I could not have parted with you, my Nezzie, to anyone less worthy.”
She laughs, but I can hear the tears within it. “How can I leave you? Who will drive me crazy during my Pride and Prejudice rewatches by saying all the lines five seconds before the actors?”
I pull back, squeezing her upper arms. “I’m a pro at this. Monthly video calls where we press play at the same time so we’re perfectly synced. Weekly calls so we can hear each other’s voices and know everything’s okay. Daily texts so we still know every detail of each other's lives.”
“And summers?” she asks.
“And summers.” With the professors from the program speaking out against the initiative—especially Dr. Guarino, who was its staunchest supporter—the rift won’t happen on campus, and maybe that means I’ll get to run this class again, too.
And if not, I’ll just have to rearrange my finances—a lot—to prioritize visiting her.
I give her one last kiss on the check and rush her off to meet her man, holding back the tears in my eyes until she’s safely around the corner.
I jump when Dr. Guarino speaks behind me. “May I have a moment?”
I swipe away the tears before turning to face him. “Of course, Dr. Guarino. What can I do for you?”
“I have some exciting news for you,” he says. “I spoke with President Munchen a few days ago.”
Here it is. The moment I’ve been working and fighting for all summer. He called our president to say he no longer supports the separation initiative, that he sees the value of faculty and staff collaboration and will stand before the faculty senate and back my argument against it.
“I know I was hard on you this summer.” Yes, you were.
“I was very stuck in my ways, and I’ll admit I didn’t think you could successfully lead this class.
” Just say it. “I was wrong.” Fuck me, I love those words.
“I know it’s not my place since I’m not in the business school, but I wanted you to hear it from me.
Billings would like to offer you a faculty position. ”
There’s a record scratch in my head.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask.
“You know President Munchen has been working on professionalizing our curriculum. We’ve already approved an on-campus internship course based on the curriculum from this summer.
The business department planned on splitting the half-dozen sections between the existing faculty, but when I told her how well you did this summer, we both agreed you should take them on instead. ”
“That’s a full-time position,” I say, and he smiles like I meant that as a positive thing. “How am I supposed to do two full-time jobs on campus?”
His smile falters. “Well, you’d have to leave the staff position, obviously. I mean, you won’t be able to do both after…”
My stomach bottoms out as I realize what he’s saying. When he told me he was wrong—that he was impressed with my work—he didn’t mean he was switching sides. He was talking only about my work, not about what it means for Billings.
“You’re still supporting the initiative,” I say, my voice hollow.
He shakes his head like following the path of this conversation is too much for him. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because,” I say, the pitch of my voice rising, “I proved this summer that staff have something to contribute to the academic side of our campus.”
“You have something to contribute. You taught the class beautifully, and Billings would be lucky to have you teaching this course full time.”
“You were never going to give this a real chance, were you?” I ask.
He rolls his lips together, almost apologetic, which is infuriating when he’s destroying my job in a few sentences. “The experiment is flawed by nature. With such a limited sample size, we can’t reach any valuable conclusion. I know you don’t understand how research works—”
“I do understand research. I’ve done my own—hell, I’ve even published my own—but this wasn’t an official study—”
“You’re right. It wasn’t. This was the faculty appeasing President Munchen. That’s it. We know what this campus needs and have decided on its future.”
“But you admitted you were wrong!”
“About you,” he says calmly, and I want to poke him until he gets as pissed off as I am. “And I hold true to that belief. You have so much to give, and this faculty position will allow you to keep contributing.”
Will. Not would. It’s a foregone conclusion in his mind that I’ll take the position because he thinks I have no other options. He thinks he can bully me into it, just like my father thought he could bully me into living the life he wanted for me.
“I’ll be honest,” Dr. Guarino says like he hasn’t been brutally honest all summer.
“You have potential, but we’re not willing to continue dealing with all the other issues on campus, the incessant requests and interruptions, just to see what may happen with that potential.
If you want to see your new plans through, this is the way to do it. ”
My hands are shaking, and I clutch them together to hide it. “Please don’t do this, Dr. Guarino. We could make things better if we worked together.”