27. Blake
27
BLAKE
I ’m in a foul mood, which isn’t usually how people return from a vacation to the Bahamas.
But after spending my last two days there getting drunk and commiserating with Lawton about our shitty love lives, or lack thereof, I’m in no mood to head back to work where I may run into Kat.
What would I even say?
I suppose it doesn’t matter anyway. She made it clear that she doesn’t want to talk to me or hear anything I have to say.
We still have this course to work on, and God knows how that’s going to go. I was questioning the feasibility of continuing to work together after the night of the rehearsal dinner, wondering if I could work objectively with someone I had feelings for, but the feelings weren’t new.
Giving in to them was.
“Need some coffee?”
The high-pitched voice makes me rub at my temples.
“No.” I’m in no mood for Randi’s shit.
“Oh.”
I look up. She’s in my doorway, twirling a lock of hair around one finger while she chews on gum with her mouth open.
“Randi, what do you want?” I ask bluntly.
I’ve tried to be friendly, but it’s really not in my nature to be anything other than blunt, and niceties require too much energy for me to summon right now.
She shrugs, her too-obvious cleavage bouncing above her low-cut top. “It’s clear you’re not in a great mood, that’s all.”
No shit. She should be a fucking detective.
“And I wondered if maybe you wanted some coffee. And…” She steps into my office. “I wondered if maybe it had to do with Professor Milas. If you two broke up and maybe you were looking for someone to cheer you up.”
Points for perseverance, I guess .
I blow out a breath. “Randi, I’m not available. Please don’t ask again.”
“Okay,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and snapping her gum, seeming completely unaffected by my dismissal. “But if you change your mind, you know where to find me.”
Yeah, I know where to find her. It’s why I avoid walking past her office.
I have no interest in talking about Kat to Randi, but I do want to talk to someone, and Jeremy knows the whole story.
I shoot him a text, and he appears in my doorway three minutes later.
“What’s up?” he asks. “How was the wedding?”
“Shitty. Come in and close the door.”
He does and takes a seat, his legs crossed. “I’m listening.”
I take a deep breath and then blow it out, scrubbing a hand down my face. “I fucked up.”
Jeremy’s expression doesn’t change. “Continue.”
“Kat and I are no longer together. She has something in her past that she didn’t want to talk about, so I didn’t bring it up as it pertains to me, and now she feels like I hid something from her.”
His eyebrows pull together. “That’s…cryptic. ”
“It’s something personal, and it’s her thing. But the point is, I didn’t try to lie to her or deceive her or anything. She won’t give me a chance to explain, though. And now everything is fucked.”
He nods slowly, his hand rubbing over his chin. “Well, it’s a good thing the relationship wasn’t real, huh? That would be a lot messier.” He looks at me, his gaze intense. “Or is there more to the story?”
That’s the problem with working with a bunch of smart people. They know too much and can read into things.
“Fuck. Okay, yes, things got real. You happy?”
A grin spreads over his face. “I knew there was something between you two.”
“It was just last week. While we were in the Bahamas. Before, it was all pretend.”
He shakes his head. “You can tell yourself that, and maybe that’s when you made it official. But there’s been something between you since the very beginning. Chemistry, a kind of electricity. You could see it when you talked to one another.”
He’s right. I could feel it, too.
But it doesn’t matter. It’s over now.
“So?”
“So when things get messy in a relationship, you talk about it. Fix it. Maybe give it time, but I think there’s something worth saving. Just my two cents, though.”
He’s right, but I’m not sure it’s up to me. Kat’s the one who needs convincing.
But maybe there’s a chance that she’s had a chance to process everything, that maybe she’ll listen now that we’re back at school and not in the frenzied excitement and high emotions that make up a wedding.
I push back from my desk. “Yeah, you have a point. I’ll go talk to her.”
Jeremy stands. “Good luck. Let me know how it goes.”
“Sure thing. Talk soon.”
As he exits my office, I look down at my watch, my plans coming to a halt as I realize the time. It’s 10:45, which means Kat is in class right now. This isn’t a college rom-com movie, where I could bust into her classroom in the middle of lecture and make some proclamation of love or something like that.
First, that move is reserved for jocks and overly confident twenty-somethings, and is aimed at another student, not the professor.
Second, she’d probably cut my balls off for interrupting her lecture. Kat doesn’ t fuck around when it comes to her job. And I’m rather attached to my balls, thank you very much.
So in the interest of coming across as a non-asshole who plans to keep all of his genitalia intact, the best option is to wait.
I sink back into my chair, both deflated and relieved. In my head, I start to plan out what I need to say to her. Apology for the whole poker thing. Try to explain that it was never meant to be a secret, that I was just trying to be nice and respect her triggers.
I’m tempted to explain how professional poker playing works, how we take precautions and check on one another to make sure no one ends up falling into the spiral of addiction, but I’m not sure she’s ready to hear that.
Most of all, I need for her to hear that I don’t gamble anymore. If it’s important to her, I’ll give it up forever. She’s more important than any poker tournament or anything else.
I realize the truth of the words as I plan them out in my head.
Even though Kat and I started as an arrangement, she’s grown on me. Her little quirks, her humor, the sound of her voice. I miss all of them. And while my younger years made me swear that I’d never be in a serious relationship, let alone get married, maybe things can change.
As the clock ticks down to 11:20, I pace in front of my door. It’s closed just in case anyone walks down this hallway. I don’t need anyone to know just how neurotic I am.
Like Kat, I pride myself on taking work seriously. On being in control and competent.
This image may not jibe with that reputation.
I wipe my sweating palms on my slacks again.
11:18. Almost time to head over there. The lecture hall her class is in isn’t too far from her office, so I’m going to try to catch her while she’s walking between the two. She’s too much of a professional to blow me off in front of students and other faculty. And yes, I’m fully taking advantage of it.
11:19. Time to go. It’ll put me right at the door when she dismisses class.
I push a hand through my hair and reach for the doorknob, only for a knock from the other side to startle me.
I jump back. This wasn’t part of my plans .
“Come in,” I call, managing to make my voice sound almost normal.
I’m not sure who I expected, but Dean Kashman wasn’t at the top of the list.
“Professor Grantham,” he says by way of greeting.
“Dean Kashman.”
What the hell is he doing here? When the dean stops by your office, something usually isn’t right. It’s like being called to the principal’s office.
Or more accurately, it’s like the principal couldn’t even wait for you to come to his office, so he’s coming to get you out of class himself.
“Mind if I come in?”
I do my best to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut. “Of course. What can I do for you?”
“Everything okay?” His expression is unreadable.
I try to smile, but my poker face fails me. “Yep.”
He furrows his brows. “Did something happen between you and Professor Milas?”
Unfortunately, while something did happen between me and Kat, I have no idea where we stand right now. And fuck if I’m going to discuss it with Dean Kashman. Besides being my boss, I know he’s interested in Kat. It’s the entire reason she agreed to this harebrained scheme in the first place.
My analytical brain runs through the various options, gauging the likely outcomes.
One—I admit that Kat and I broke up. Likely not much fallout for me, other than Randi trying to sink her claws into me, but Adam will take that as license to ask Kat out again, putting her back in the precarious position of having to balance not wanting to date him with his influence on her chance at promotion.
Two—I tell him we’re still together, that nothing happened. If he’s talked to Kat, he’ll know this is a complete lie. Best-case scenario, I’ll be on his shit list; worst case, I’ll be looking for a new job before my first year at Ardmore is even done.
Three—I tell him that we’re talking through things. This is only true if Kat agrees to it, but it gives me some plausible deniability if Kat has already told him we’re done. He may relate to the struggle and see my perseverance and unwillingness to give up just because things are tough.
Yep, that last one seems like a winner.
“We’re having a bit of a rough patch,” I admit, “but you know how it is. Good things take work.”
His face doesn’t give anything away. “I understand. My ex-wife and I did go through some very bumpy bumps during our relationship.”
I’m not sure if he’s showing support for us working this out or trying to tell me that relationships can fail even after trying to make things right.
And I’m not sure “bumpy bumps” are exactly the best description for what Kat and I are going through.
I smile, though, giving him the benefit of the doubt. “So you know how it is. I need to go meet up with her now, actually. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Adam shakes his head. “No, not really. Was just stopping by a few offices to say hi. I’ll let you get going.”
“Thanks. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
He gives me a wave and heads down the hall.
Checking my watch, I realize Adam’s impromptu visit has ruined my plan to catch Kat between her lecture and her office, but our conversation has made me even more certain that I need to talk to Kat and work things out, for both our sakes.
My steps are quick as I walk to the lecture hall, then to Kat’s office, but she’s nowhere to be found. I try the food court and even Angela’s and Naomi’s offices.
Nothing.
Fuck .
I need to talk to her. I was hoping that giving her time to cool off would work in my favor, but I’m not going to get anywhere with explaining my side of things if she won’t even talk to me.
There’s no sign of her at the library or in the labs, either.
My stomach sinks as I walk slowly back to my office.
I’m too late.