Chapter Twenty-two #2
“So we can just forget that night ever happened?”
“You want to forget our meet cute?”
Her eyes were saucers. “How do you know that expression?”
I patted my backpack where a hefty tome tugged at my shoulder. “I’m into Romantasy lately.”
“You have to tell me how you got into that,” she said, turning to continue our stroll.
Nobody ever asked me that. Probably because I rarely talked books with anyone. I’d never been in a book club or had a bookish friend. I gave her the short history of my journey from the obvious fantasy novels to paranormal romance. “And now I’m hooked on sexy fantasy.”
“I love it. We should start a book club. I could use an excuse to read something published this century.”
We continued on, talking about favorite books, until we reached the university.
Her cheeks had turned a little pink from the wind, and I wanted to slide over and put an arm around her, pull her to me, and let her feed off my warmth, but we’d established a boundary, even if I’d tiptoed across it the day before.
“Do you mind if we make a quick stop?” She wrinkled her nose. “I need to pop over to beg my boss for more work so I don’t starve.”
That reminded me of her bold Napoleonic move the day before. “Did you really tell Lauren you quit?”
She grinned. “I can’t believe I did that. You should have seen her face.”
“Maybe that will teach her to treat people better. You’re the unsung hero for future underlings.”
“I wish I could muster as much courage to get what I want from my editor.”
“And what’s that?”
“Enough work to tide me over until I can find something else. It would solve so many problems if I could work for her full time.”
“Have you asked?”
She laughed. “You sound like Chelsea.”
I crossed my hands over my heart. “Say it isn’t so.”
As we entered the Lawn, a memory from the previous Saturday layered itself over the nostalgia swirling around this place: the morning we’d made a truce. “By the way, I looked up that Proust passage you were talking about.”
Her head swung my way, a little pleased grin turning her lips up. “Did you?”
“I mean, in English, obviously.” I scratched my jaw.
“Oh, I didn’t read it in the original, either.” She shook her head. “I’m only expected to be able to understand the English written about the original.”
She played that off like it wasn’t an accomplishment, but I was impressed. “How long have you been editing?”
She blew out a breath with a shaky laugh. “Too long. Kate—my boss—likes to take undergrads under her wing. She cornered me my second year here, so that was”—I counted backward—“Jesus, a decade ago?”
Strolling in front of the Rotunda, I pictured a younger me, backpack slung over one shoulder, making my way to the science buildings.
“I sort of miss being a student.” It was a weird thing to realize.
“At the time, I was so focused on knocking out my requirements and keeping my grades up, but in retrospect, it was nice to know what was expected of us.”
“Funny you say that. I’ve been thinking about going back to school at some point.”
“Yeah? To do what?”
“Get my MFA and focus on writing my novel.”
“You’re writing a novel?”
She waved her hand. “We’re not talking about that.”
“Okay.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, tabling the discussion, but my curiosity was piqued.
At last, we reached Bryan Hall and pushed through a throng of students. I thought I could still pass as an undergrad, but these kids were babies. Had we looked that young once?
Outside an office, Elizabeth rapped at the door frame, then walked right in.
A Black woman with a shock of close-cut white hair lifted her head, then stood with a huge grin.
She wore a cardigan that hung to her knees.
Her glasses dangled against her chest, attached to a beaded necklace.
She reminded me of Mrs. Chance, one of our Sunday school teachers when I was a kid.
For a beat, I wondered if Elizabeth would remember her, then caught myself.
What the fuck? That was Lizzy Grant, not Elizabeth.
“Hey, Kate. Got a second?”
Kate’s eyebrows rose. “Sure.”
When Kate’s eyes landed on me, Elizabeth performed the introductions. “Evan Spurlock, meet Kate Hudson, a powerhouse in intersectional queer Black feminist literary criticism, and my boss.”
“Not related,” Kate said, reaching out her hand to shake. “Not even a little.”
I laughed, working back to her full name to get the joke. Kate was, at my guess, possibly sixty. She had the kind of gravitas about her that scared the crap out of young students. “Nice to meet you,” I said, not daring to be clever in the literal English department.
She tilted her head. “You look familiar. Have we met?”
“I don’t think I ever had a class with you.”
Elizabeth cut in. “Did you watch the news last night?” At Kate’s head shake, Elizabeth added, “You might have seen him on that billboard over on High Street.”
Kate’s eyes goggled, and I waved off the overstated importance of an ad for a news team. “I’m a meteorologist,” I said. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Well.” Kate sat back down. “What are you doing trailing behind Elizabeth today?”
Elizabeth answered for me, saving me the awkwardness of trying to explain whatever this relationship was. “Evan went to school here, and he wanted to check out the library renovations.”
“You’re in for a surprise.” Kate turned to Elizabeth, dismissing me just like that. “Thank you for your quick work on the Diderot. I know you’re busy with your new job, but would you have time to work on this Tristram Shandy collection?”
Elizabeth didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I’m heading to the library anyway. Send it my way.”
I noticed she didn’t contradict Kate about being tied up with the new job, probably thinking it would give her more leverage to negotiate, but I wondered if she appeared to be spread too thin to take on a bigger role.
“You’re a lifesaver.” Kate’s shoulders dropped like a weight had lifted. She glanced at me. “I could use fifty more editors like Elizabeth. She’s unbelievably thorough. I never have to waste my time checking over her work.”
Elizabeth, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and inhaled deep—something I’d noticed she did to draw courage before speaking up for herself. “I’d be available for more work if I could count on the hours.”
“I know.” Kate toyed with a pen. “And I’d give you all the assignments if efficiency was my sole criteria. But I consider this copy editor role more like an apprenticeship, meant to train students so they can leave here with some practical skills.”
“I’m no longer a student, though.” Elizabeth’s voice came out thin, lacking the force and confidence she’d had only moments before.
“Yes.” The pen rolled between Kate’s fingers. “I’m aware. I’ve come to rely on you though. Like I said, I wish I could clone you.”
Elizabeth sucked her upper lip between her teeth, and I could see her sorting through every possible response.
“Too bad you can’t put her on salary,” I said, without thinking.
Both women turned to look at me, matching arched eyebrows.
“I mean, you know,” I hedged, feeling like I’d just stepped in a pile of elephant dung, but I figured what the hell and finished my thought.
“It sounds to me like she needs to change roles, move into a more permanent position. Maybe as a full-time assistant, she could help balance the load.”
Elizabeth’s mouth dropped open, and I was sure I’d overstepped. Kate’s eyes narrowed, and she set the pen down. “Well, it was nice to meet you. Evan, right?”
Fuck. I’d probably just made things worse for Elizabeth. “It was nice to meet you, too.”
As we left Kate’s office, Elizabeth grabbed my elbow and hurried me through the hallway until we reached the exit, then doubled over laughing. “I cannot believe you just did that.”
“What?”
“So casually asked Kate to give me a promotion.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’ve been working up my courage to ask her to make me a full-time editor for months.”
“It sounded to me like you’re the one with the power. She clearly wants to keep you, but she seems afraid you’ll leave her in the lurch. Wouldn’t a full-time job be the obvious solution?”
Elizabeth shook her head, laughing. “I wish I could think like a man, sometimes.”
“It isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be.” Elizabeth snorted, and I loved seeing her light up with laughter. Taken by a whim, I held out my hand, surprised when she took it. “Now, take me on a tour of this new library.”