Chapter One
The front door opened then shut, letting in a burst of cold air with it. “Did you finish grading those papers?” Nico asked from the other room, stomping out of his boots.
Not “Hi.” Not “How was your day, babe?” But “Did you finish grading those papers?” What he’d failed to add wasfor me.He should really be asking, “Did you finish grading those papers for me?” Because that’s what he actually wanted to know.
“Not yet.” I gnashed my teeth as he came into the kitchen, lifting the blue books I’d placed neatly on the table. “Can you just—” I huffed, straightening them once more and making sure they covered the stack of mail I’d taken pains to hide.
“Geez. Someone’s touchy,” he said, hands lifted as if in surrender. “What’s for dinner?”
Are you freaking kidding me?I glared at him from behind my laptop, ready to pull out my hair at some of the awful answers his students had provided. Nowthis?
“You were supposed to pick something up for us,” I said, thinking he was more than capable. He was thirteen years older than me. He’d been living on his own when I was still learning to read.
He tilted his head in confusion, and I let out a deep sigh. Nico took the whole absent-minded professor thing to a new level. At first, it had seemed adorable. Charming, even. But over the past few months, it had started to grate on me.
I had a full load of classes and managed to maintain a 4.0 GPA, all while volunteering at the local women’s shelter, applying to grad schools for my MBA, and slowly working on my business plan. And he couldn’t even seem to do the bare minimum, like grade his own damn papers.
When he continued to stare at me with a blank expression, I added, “My flight leaves in the morning, and I haven’t packed.” I was supposed to fly out to LA first, and he’d join me in a few days to spend the holidays with my family.
“Oh.” He waved a hand through the air. “Right. I, um, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I might have forgotten to buy a ticket.”
“Forgot?” I sputtered, shaking my head in disbelief. “You forgot?”
I felt as if I’d just woken up from a bad dream, grogginess making way for confusion. Disbelief. Why was I even here? Why was I doing this, grading his papers, putting off packing to help him, when he couldn’t even do the simplest things in return? Let alone the fact that he’d “forgotten” to buy a plane ticket. No. I didn’t buy it.
He wasn’t absent-minded; he was self-centered.
He wasn’t disorganized; he was a disaster.
And I was enabling him. Oh my god, how had I not seen this before now?
“You’ll only be gone a few days, right?” His eye caught on something on the table, and he slid several letters out from beneath the stack of blue books. “What’s this?”
I gaped at him. “I can’t show up by myself. You said you were ready to meet my family. And it’s Christmas.”
“I just don’t think it’s the best time. I’m up for tenure, and even though you’re no longer my student, it wouldn’t be good for optics.”
I swayed on my chair.Optics?I shook my head. Nico hadn’t cared about optics when he’d fucked me in his office.
He held up the envelopes, ignoring my anger and smiling when he saw the one from Wharton. “You got in? Why didn’t you tell me, babe?”
Because I was still deciding whatIwanted to do. Not what Nico thought I should do. Not where my dad thought I should go. Butme.
In a few months, I was graduating from MIT with honors and a degree in brain and cognitive sciences, yet Nico treated me as if I were incapable of making my own decisions. As if he somehow knew better. Was more intelligent just because he had a few extra letters behind his name.
I stood there, feeling as if I were watching from above. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the woman I wanted to be—attached to a guy. Letting him make decisions for both of us. Doing whatever he wanted, while I tagged along.
“Sumner.” He stepped closer with a smile, pulling me into his arms. “I’m so proud of you.” I stood there awkwardly for a moment before pushing against him. “We should go out to celebrate. How about the Italian place down the street?”
Had he not been listening at all? I was beginning to suspect the answer was no. For instance, how many times had I hinted at my dislike for the Italian place down the street? Their food was flavorless, and the service was awful. The only reason he liked it was because it was cheap. Oh, that, and we weren’t likely to run into anyone we knew.
Where had he taken me for my birthday?
The Italian place.
Our one-year anniversary?
The Italian place.
