23. Chapter 23
“ S tand right there and look this way.” Grant’s deep, commanding voice has me stopping in my tracks as I sling my backpack over my shoulders. Thankfully, I only need to carry one textbook, my laptop, and a notebook with me today. Otherwise, I don’t think my back could handle it.
I turn around and look at my husband, who has a cheesy grin on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“It’s the first day of school, Peach. We’ve got to take a picture.” My eyes must widen comically because a deep laugh bubbles out of him.
“I am not taking a picture.” I shake my head. “I look like a whale, and I’m twenty-one, not seven.”
He eats the distance between us. “Nah, baby. You look beautiful. Besides, our girl needs to see how badass her mama is, continuing college, getting her degree, all while growing a life.”
I blush. “Fine, I’ll take the damn picture.”
The squeal he lets out is comical. Who is this man, and what has he done with my grumpy husband?
Standing in front of the door, I angle my body so one hand rests on top of my bump while the other cradles the bottom, giving me shape. Tilting my head, shoulder brushing closer to my face, I smile as Grant snaps picture after picture on his phone.
He nods, typing away on his phone. “Looking good, wifey.”
Before I have a chance to respond, my phone vibrates on the counter. Walking over, I pick it up and swipe the screen.
“Grant!” I scold as I stare at the message he sent in the group chat.
Sunshine: [1 Photo Attachment]
Sunshine: My wife is looking sexy as hell for her first day of school.
Before I have a chance to set my phone down, it vibrates with responses.
Bret: *fire emoji* My new sister is a hottie.
Crew: Total smokeshow.
Chloe: Have a great first day, Mama.
Cody: Grant *neutral face emoji*
Cody: Looking good, Sav.
What is this? Y’all build me up with compliments to settle my nerves.
Cody: G threatened us.
Chloe: CODY!!!! He did not, Sav. Cody’s being an ass.
I laugh at my friends, missing them a little more today.
Glancing away from my phone, I notice Grant has erased the space between us. He stops when our toes touch, his arms bracketing me, my large belly in the way. A few more weeks to go.
Then, instead of a large belly, it’ll be a screaming newborn.
Another phase, another obstacle. But we’ll make it work.
Looking up, Grant’s gaze is zeroed in on me. Hunger and desire swirl in his irises, and I can feel the ache spreading between my legs. His thumb and forefinger pinch my chin, tilting my head even more.
“Have a good first day, Peach.” And then he’s kissing me and taking my breath away.
His tongue licks at my seam, and I open for him as he plunges inside.
I can taste the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee he’s been drinking.
As he deepens the kiss, I can’t help the moan that escapes.
He chuckles, never slowing his pace. If I don’t stop this kiss, we’ll end up in the bedroom, and I’ll be late on my first day.
As much as I don’t want to, I reach up, my palms finding his firm chest, and push against him. It takes him a second before he steps back, and our kiss is broken. My chest heaves as if he’s sucked the air from my lungs.
“See you tonight.”
Biting my lip, I nod.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I promise I will,” I say before stepping out the door and driving to campus.
The moment I set foot on campus, I swear every set of eyes swings in my direction.
I’m probably overreacting and being self-conscious.
I mean, I’m ready to pop, have a major waddle in my step, and rumors have been spreading about me.
Thanks to Tierney and her big mouth, my phone hasn’t stopped buzzing—messages from old sorority sisters and random people I used to party with, as if any of them deserve a second of my time.
I’m doing the best I can to keep my nose clean while Coach Campbell waits for the AD’s decision.
I shift my backpack on my shoulder, straighten my spine, and remind myself I’m supposed to be here.
This is going to be hard, but having a degree is the best thing I can do for my daughter.
Even with Grant’s promise to support me, I refuse to put all my eggs in one basket.
It’s not that I’m trying to be pessimistic or waiting for our marriage to fail, but I’m a realist, and I’ve seen too much shit in my twenty-one years of life.
This isn’t how I pictured finishing my degree. No one imagines themselves waddling across campus while pregnant. I used to dream of sorority events, late-night parties, and mornings fueled by too much caffeine.
Walking through the crowds of students, I give tight-lipped smiles as people pass by.
The pressure builds low in my pelvis and aches with each step, but I fight through the discomfort.
Braxton Hicks have been teasing me all morning as the false contractions tighten across my stomach, preparing me for what’s to come.
As another wave hits me, I inhale a deep breath through my nose while resting a hand on my belly.
Exhaling slowly, I push the pain away and continue my trek.
Climbing the few steps into the building, I make my way down the hall to my classroom.
Familiar faces turn when I enter, offering me small smiles and waves.
I nod, lowering myself carefully into a seat near the aisle in case I need to make a break for the bathroom.
Professor Hamilton stands at the podium, a slideshow displayed behind him. “Welcome back, everyone. Please take your seats, and we’ll get started.”
I flip open my laptop, the screen coming to life.
While I wait for Professor Hamilton to begin, I open a tab for my school email.
There’s an unopened message from my advisor, requesting a meeting with me today after my final class.
Uneasiness rumbles in my stomach. It’s probably nothing, but being summoned for a last-minute meeting feels like being called to the principal’s office.
I type out a “thank you, I’ll be there” response and turn my attention to the screen for the next ninety minutes.
By the time I push open the office door on the second floor of the social work building, it’s just after three-thirty.
Central Texas University has such a strong social work program that it gets its own building, which means nearly all my classes are here.
The only time I leave is for food, and even then, the small cafeteria next door is closer than the Union’s dining hall.
This office space is colder than the rest of the building, causing a shiver to wrack through my body. The receptionist directs me to one of the larger meeting rooms instead of my usual advisor’s office.
Inside, my professors—Hamilton, Bowman, and Briska—sit with my advisor, Nina. Four sets of eyes turn to me, warm and inviting, easing the nervous edge I carried in.
“Hi, Savannah,” Nina greets, gesturing to the empty seat next to her. “Please, come, take a seat.”
I nod, joining them at the round table.
“We’ll try to keep this brief,” Professor Hamilton adds. “Given your situation, we wanted to sit down and give you some peace of mind for the semester.”
My eyebrows knit, unsure of what reassurance they could offer.
Before the semester, I’d emailed them all about my due date.
I promised I’d only miss a few days in the hospital and had childcare lined up to return quickly.
Not ideal, but it was the only way I could stick to the attendance policy and graduate this winter.
Professor Bowman, my ethics in social work professor, leans forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“We’ve all seen how dedicated you’ve been over the last three years.
You’re a remarkable student, and we understand that your pregnancy wasn’t planned.
We admire you for continuing your education and acknowledge that it’ll be challenging. ”
With my nerves still thrumming, I nod slowly.
Nina slides a printed sheet toward me. With trembling fingers, I bring it closer to me as I wait for them to explain.
“Your professors and I have spoken at length to determine how we can help you with this transition. We’ve devised a plan to provide you with alternative assignments that still hit the core objectives. ”
My head tilts in her direction, still confused by what I’m reading.
“Your email mentioned you’d return right after delivery,” my capstone professor says gently. “But we want you to know you have options. If you need a few weeks to recover, you won’t fall behind.”
I glance down at the paper, eyes stinging as I read:
Capstone Project: Professional development plan, job portfolio, and reflection on ethical challenges.
Field Practicum Substitute: Three client studies, mock treatment plans, one virtual training with a journal, and a paper analyzing a TV show or movie client-worker interaction.
Ethics in Social Work: Two TED Talk essays, plus a self-care and boundaries policy to prevent ethical drift.
Each bullet point feels like an invisible weight leaving my shoulders. Only then do I realize how much stress I’d been carrying. Coming back straight from labor felt impossible. This…this feels manageable.
Shaking my head, I glance around the table at the smiling faces. “If your doctor gives you clearance and you’re able to return right away, great. But if not? You’re covered with us and the university,” Nina says.
Dr. Briska adds, “We’re rooting for you, Savannah. You’re a bright woman with a big future ahead of you.”
My throat tightens, and I blink the tears away. I will not cry in front of my professors, but damn, my heart’s happy. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course, Miss Holycross. You’ve worked too hard to have anything derail your momentum. We only wish you’d come to us last semester, and we could’ve helped then.”
The urge to correct her and say Mrs. Campbell rises, but I swallow it down.
And while I wish I had come to them, in reality, there was no way I could’ve focused enough to finish last semester.
I was a hot mess who needed time to adjust. And while I know it’s going to be an even harder adjustment with motherhood, at least this time I’ll have a stronger support system.
I leave ten minutes later with printed papers and my course outlines tucked away in my bag. I can’t contain the smile and warmth as I walk across campus toward the Union, where my car is parked in the lot behind the building.
Too bad that feeling is short-lived.
As I pass the doors to the Union, they open, and three of my sorority sisters— former sisters —spill out in front of me.
“Oh, Savannah.”
I recognize the voice immediately and fight to keep my body’s cringe from showing. Tierney’s voice is so syrupy sweet it could give you a toothache.
Standing with her are Layla and Kayla… Yeah, I know.
“Oh my god, Sav,” Layla coos, stepping in front of me and greeting me like we’re still besties. She takes her time eyeing my belly. “You look so… Well, you’re…”
“Glowing,” Kayla finishes.
The three of them look at each other while I rake my eyes over them. They look like they walked straight out of a Delta Zeta brochure—glossy curls, curated outfits. I used to be one of them. Crazy, the way time pulls you in another direction.
“Uh, thank you.” I glance around, searching for a way out of this conversation.
“So, you’re with Grant Campbell now?” Layla probes.
“Like, officially?” Kayla adds. I think the two of them share a brain. My eyes look at Tierney, who’s standing there with a smirk on her face. It’s the kind of look she gives when she’s up to trouble, and I want to smack it off her face. I wonder if I could blame the hormones if I do?
Tierney picks her moment. “They’re living together.”
Layla and Kayla gasp, and my face heats.
Kayla’s hand reaches out and grips my forearm. “Tell us everything.”
I try to tug free as smoothly as possible, but her claws sink into me. I don’t know why these three think I would spill anything to them. They left me when I needed friends the most. And Tierney has already proven she’s not trustworthy.
“What’s up, Sav?” A deep voice startles me from behind as a muscular arm is draped over my shoulder.
The girls’ eyes widen, and I glance at the owner of the tan arm.
Relief washes over me as I stare at Tyler Harris, the quarterback of the football team and a member of our circle. He also happens to be Bret and Crew’s third roommate.
I clear my throat and offer a friendly smile, forever grateful for his presence. “Hey, Harris.”
Tierney, Kayla, and Layla are all muttering something, trying to get his attention, but he never glances toward them. He keeps his full attention on me.
“Were you heading out? I was walking to the lot if you want some company?”
I beam. “Absolutely!”
With his arm still draped around mine, he starts to steer me in the direction of the parking lot. Kayla’s hand drops free with the movement, and I don’t even spare them a goodbye.
“I could kiss you right now,” I mumble.
He barks out a laugh. “I don’t think your husband would like that.”
My eyes dart around to make sure no one overheard us.
“Relax, no one’s around. Besides, I haven’t had a chance to congratulate you.”
“Thanks.” My cheeks blush. “Where have you been anyway?”
He shrugs.
“Tyler Harris, are you seeing someone?”
It’s his turn to blush as his cheeks morph into a light pink. “You dog. Who’s the lucky lady?”
Tyler shakes his head. “Nah, it’s nothing serious. I’ve got to focus on football.”
“Uh huh.” I let him have his out. He’s clearly not ready to talk about whatever is going on in his personal life, and I respect that.
Sometimes, we keep things to ourselves until we’re sure they’ll work out.
Once the news is out, there’s so much scrutiny and pressure from the outside world.
And with his position on the football team and his chances for a first-round draft pick, I can’t imagine how loud the outside noise is.
I point in the direction of my car and walk beside Tyler with a little more confidence. No matter how challenging this semester gets, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
With the people who matter most.