38. Nick #2
He issues a quiet laugh, his eyes moving over my face, assessing. “Why can’t you bring her to the wedding?”
My gaze falls to my bottle. I feel lighter after talking about the past, after Marcus’s apology, but… can I really tell him the truth, that Zinnia is my student? How could he possibly still respect me after that?
My mind drifts to the topic of our class this morning.
I think about Botticelli, Michelangelo, all the artists we admire today because they broke away from convention.
And I’m reminded of what Zinnia said on the last day of our summer class: So many of the works we study only exist because people dared to do things differently.
That takes courage . Imagine what we’d be missing today if they hadn’t taken those risks .
My heart squeezes as I recall her words. She’s right. Anything worthwhile requires some sort of risk, asks for courage we might think we don’t have. And if I can confront Marcus about what happened between us years ago, I can tell him this.
“She’s my student.”
His eyebrows hit his hairline. “Oh. Shit.”
I nod, trying to ignore the discomfort crawling over my skin. “We met through the community arts center before summer classes started,” I explain. “And there was a spark there. Nothing happened while I was teaching her,” I add hastily, “but the minute classes ended…”
Marcus’s expression smooths, and he takes a long sip of beer, listening. That he hasn’t scoffed or laughed gives me the courage to go on.
“I thought it was only for the summer. She was supposed to be leaving town.” I pick at the label on my beer bottle, remembering how elated I was when she decided to stay.
“And then she said she wanted to take another class at NYU. I knew it wasn’t the best idea, but it wasn’t my class, so I figured…
” I blow out a breath, removing my glasses to wipe them on my jacket.
“Then her professor took leave, and I had to step in.”
“That’s…” Marcus grimaces. “That’s full-on, man.”
I give him a grim smile, taking a long sip of beer.
“You know,” he says at length, “Priya and I weren’t supposed to date.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugs. “It’s hospital policy not to date coworkers. You have to declare it to HR, and it becomes this big thing, so we hid it for ages.” He gives me a wolfish grin. “You’d be surprised what you can get away with in an empty hospital bed… or a supply closet.”
My jaw unhinges as I stare at my brother. He’s a rule-follower through and through. I’d even go so far as to call him a stickler. So to hear about him sneaking around with a colleague is kind of a mindfuck.
Marcus laughs at my dumbfounded expression. “The point is, you meet people in unexpected places. Sure, she’s your student now, but like you said, it’s after the fact. And it’s not like she’s eighteen.”
“She’s twenty-five,” I chip in quickly, though I’m not sure if that helps or hinders my cause.
My brother’s grin returns. “Look at you, going for the younger woman. I didn’t know you had it in you, little brother.”
Heat flares up my face, and I drop my gaze.
Marcus softens. “Bring her to the wedding,” he says gently. “It’s only a tiny ceremony on the Promenade. Just us and a couple of colleagues and friends. No one from your circle at all.”
I let myself imagine Zinnia at my side as my brother and Priya say their vows. Maybe not openly kissing, that would be too risky, but standing together. Brushing hands. Hell, just having her there.
“Okay,” I agree, unable to stop the smile tugging at my lips.
Marcus’s eyes twinkle as he gazes at me. “You really like her, don’t you?”
I swallow, nodding, resisting the urge to say I’m falling for her, that I’ve never felt this way—never knew I could feel this way—and it’s everything.
But Marcus reads it on my face anyway. “Fuck, Nick. I had no idea.” He blinks rapidly in disbelief. “It’s kind of hard to get my head around, to be honest.”
I smile wryly. “This is exactly how I felt when you told me you were engaged.”
“Fair enough.” He chuffs a self-effacing laugh. “But I’m glad. I was worried you’d never let a woman into your life.” His laughter dies away, expression growing serious. “Does she feel the same?”
“Yes,” I say, because I know she does.
And yet…
Unease ripples through me when I think about the future I want with her.
Not because of my job, but because of something else I’ve been avoiding.
It was easy to forget while we were sneaking around, but taking her to Marcus’s wedding makes this feel more real.
It forces me to face the truth—that I still don’t know if she’s in the city permanently.
All she said was, I’ve been thinking about sticking around in New York for a while , but what if she doesn’t intend to stay after the semester ends?
More to the point, what if she can’t ? She’s spent her life moving from place to place, never putting down roots.
I’m so rooted to the spot, it’s a wonder I haven’t grown leaves.
I drain my beer, trying to push the feeling away, but it won’t go. All this time I’d thought the biggest risk with Zinnia was to my career, but what if it’s to my heart?