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He gives me an easy smile, so in contrast to Gabi’s, and then tucks his hands into his pockets. “I teach a variety of classes, but Gabi took a drawing course from me during her first semester.” He looks back at her, though he continues talking to me. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but she’s an incredibly talented sketch artist. Even though she doesn’t do it very much anymore.”
“I still sketch,” she says, raising her chin just slightly. “I just…used my time at MSA to focus primarily on pottery.”
“And I’ve seen plenty of her sketches,” I add in, jealousy seemingly getting the best of me.
The air feels heavy, far heavier than it did just a few minutes ago when we were talking with Marie. I don’t know for sure what happened between these two, but I can guess, and I can’t help the part of me that wants this Garrett guy to know who I am to Gabi.
“I’m sorry, what was your name?” he asks, his head tipping to the side as he assesses me.
Before I can say anything, Gabi speaks.
“This is my boyfriend, Bishop Mitchell.”
A mixture of emotions rolls through me at the label she provides. It’s a bit of surprise and a dash of happiness, though it’s all coated in more than plenty of disbelief. It was clear to me that with her other friend, she didn’t know what to call me. But now, with this guy, I’m her boyfriend?
Garrett’s eyebrows rise as he takes me in. “Well, nice to meet you, Bishop.” Then he glances at Gabi, his eyes drinking her in in a way that makes me want to blind him so he can’t ever look at her again. “It’s great to see you,” he finally tells her.
He gives us both that same easy smile before heading off in whatever direction I’m assuming he came from. I watch him for a beat before turning my focus on Gabi, more than a few questions on the tip of my tongue, who he was to her being the primary one. Even an idiot would be able to observe the way the two of them interacted and see that they have some kind of history, one that didn’t happen inside a classroom.
But before I can say anything to Gabi, she gives me a tight smile and turns, heading in the opposite direction toward where the woman with the clipboard is still examining the piece getting adjusted on the wall.
Something inside me feels shaken, rattled loose in a way I wasn’t expecting. Definitely not tonight, at least. At some point, logically, I knew we’d need to talk about what happened during the years we were apart, the other people we’ve been with, the relationships we’ve had, but I didn’t expect to be confronted by it tonight.
Letting out a long, slow breath, I tuck those feelings to the side and follow in Gabi’s wake. Tonight is not about me or how suspecting that Gabi may have had a relationship with one of her professors makes me feel.
No. Tonight is about Gabi. It’s about her career and this exciting thing she’s doing for the first time, and I came with her to support her and help with the conversational stuff that always makes her feel so awkward.
I can still do that. I can still be the guy she needs me to be.
chapter twenty-two
Gabi
When we get back to our hotel room, all I want to do is take a long hot shower and curl up in bed, but I know after our run-in with Garrett, there’s no way that’s happening.
All things considered, the night actually went exceptionally well, better than I ever could have hoped for. I received plenty of praise for the vases I had on display, and Bishop was an absolute saint in how he made conversation feel so much easier than I ever seem to be able to make it. If not for running into a man I had an affair with, I would have been calling the night a complete success.
I would guess not a single person Bishop met tonight knew he had something else on his mind. As we discussed the influence nature has had on the way I mark my pots before they go into the kiln and how gold leafing has been regaining popularity in pottery, he was following along and chiming in, even though his mind was somewhere else. He does an amazing job of putting on this calm, friendly, easy-to-talk-to front even when he’s upset, and he did that tonight. He showed up for me in a way I didn’t even fully realize I needed.
But I know Bishop unlike I know anybody. Sometimes I think I know him better than I know myself, which is why I know that as we walk into our room and he takes a seat on the edge of the bed, he’s not going to let this conversation slide. The man has always been good about balancing when he pushes and when he gives grace, and tonight will definitely be the former.
“We started seeing each other after my first semester,” I say, just speaking into the quiet of our room, not waiting for him to ask. “We dated for about 8 months.”
Bishop nods his head, his face remaining infuriatingly neutral.
“You dated a professor,” he says, like he needs to say it out loud to reconfirm it for himself.
I nod. “Not one of my finer moments. But yes, I did.”
“Why?”
Sighing, I tilt my head back, trying to figure out how to explain it.
“Because I found him attractive. He was so talented, and I admired that. The…nature of it…being against the rules…well, I found that attractive, too. At the time.”
He licks his lips. “And why did you break up?”
“He wanted to become more serious, and I didn’t. I’d been going to therapy and working through some things, and…I don’t know…I guess I realized I was more attracted to the fact that we were having an affair that I believed would end than I was to the idea of staying together.”
