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Psychology was interesting to me as well. Both sciences applied to great works of literature, if you thought about it. The study of the mind and how the individual interacts with the greater society were directly related to why people wrote.
I thought so, anyway.
I sighed and sank into my seat, pulling out a book I was reading for pleasure. I did not want to attract attention. Somehow, my professor had been convinced to let me back into class. Not all of my teachers had been so understanding. But four of out six had let me back to finish the semester.
I had forbidden my husband from strong- arming them.
The words in front of me blurred as my mind drifted. As always, it drifted to him. My husband. The biggest surprise of my life.
Antonio Margarelli was nothing like I had assumed he was. Strong and tough, yes, but also tender, caring, loving, and above all, ferociously passionate.
My cheeks burned as I remembered the way he had woken me up just that morning.
“It’s a big day,” he’d said softly into my ear. “I think you deserve breakfast in bed.”
Only, I’d been the breakfast, not the other way around.
“Evie? Is it really you?” Sara stood in the aisle, staring at me like I was a ghost. I should have given her a heads up that I was coming back, I thought guiltily. But I knew that Antonio didn’t approve of her. He’d made that crystal clear by leaving her number out of my new phone. I didn’t remember it so I couldn’t have texted her, anyway.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly, standing to give her a hug.
“You’re alive.”
“I told you I was fine,” I hedged, knowing that Antonio had texted ‘as me’ more than a couple of times that first week.
“But you disappeared! I was worried sick!”
Not worried enough not to leave me alone in a bar, I thought uncharitably as she scooted into the seat next to me.
“I’m sorry I worried you. I got a new phone.”
“New phone? But . . . don’t your contacts automatically transfer from the cloud?”
“New number,” I clarified.
She stared at me, wheels visibly turning. Then she noticed my hand. I had forgotten how out of place the big, honking engagement and wedding band were in a freshman core class. Not that college students didn’t get engaged. But my ring was kinda off the charts fancy.
“You . . . got married?”
I bit my lip and nodded apologetically.
“It was all kind of, um, sudden.”
“Ya think?” she asked with a dumbfounded look. Thankfully, that was exactly when class began. I listened raptly, dutifully taking notes on my new laptop even though I knew most of what he was saying. Well, I knew all of it, actually. I’d read every paper he ever wrote, plus the expanded curriculum.
The next three hours passed so quickly, it barely even registered when class was over. Students started standing up and talking around us. Sara nudged me.
“Let’s go.”
I nodded and shoved my laptop into my new designer leather backpack. It was more than extravagant. But Tony had insisted. Plus, I had to admit it was gorgeous and surprisingly comfortable on my back.
I glimpsed Tiny waiting by the door and cringed. Sara was going to have a thousand questions when she saw my gangster bodyguard. I steered her toward the other exit, intending to double back for the big man after Sara and I parted ways.
We walked fast, weaving through the crowd in the quad. Sara had my arm in a death grip, almost as if she was afraid to lose me again.
Come to think of it, she probably was.
“Come back to the dorm. You still have stuff there!”
I nodded uncertainly, casting a look around for Tiny. He was nowhere to be seen. Had I accidentally . . . lost him?
“Okay, just let me text Tony,” I said, pulling out my phone and shooting off a quick I’m okay, taking a break with friends.
She giggled and tugged me back toward the dorm. It was surreal being back there, to say the least. I noticed that most of my stuff was gone.
“A moving company came to get your stuff,” Sara said in answer to my unspoken question. “Just last week.”
“Oh.”
“But they forgot this!”
She pulled the red dress she had given me out of her closet and wagged it at me gleefully.
“Put it on! You never got a chance to wear it,” she said enthusiastically. She gave me a coy look with a naughty twinkle in her eye. “Your husband Tony will love it.”
Hmm, he actually might love it, I thought to myself.
Sara put the dress over her bedspread and took both of my hands.
“Look. I haven’t had a drink since that night. I . . . I am so fucking sorry I left you alone there.”
“It’s okay, you were—”
“Trying to salvage my self-esteem with a hookup? Yeah, I was. It was definitely not my finest moment.”
