Once again, I don’t know what to say. Because I’ve never considered the love lives of any of my colleagues.
After a moment, Gwen stands and picks up her phone from where it’s been sitting on the counter between us.
“So what are you going to do?” she asks.
“About what?”
“About Holly. And Lily McPherson.”
“I have no idea,” I admit.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Gwen nods. “Okay, so we just need to figure out how to get you this meeting with Lily McPherson and get you the grant. And we have to do it without you sleeping with Lily McPherson so that you can also woo Holly.”
“Why would I sleep with Lily McPherson?”
“It’s cute that you didn’t get that’s why she’s DMing you.”
Chapter 26
Holly
Ihave legit never been more miserable getting praise than I am at this moment.
“You’ve achieved the impossible,” Dean Rogers says heartily.
He accompanies his praise with a congenial slap to the shoulder, in some kind of good-ol’-boy ritual. I guess I should just be thankful that he doesn’t pour a bucket of Gatorade over my head.
Once again, I wished I’d been able to talk Liz into tagging along as my plus-one, but when I’d invited her, she’d laughed heartily before saying, “An evening with bloated windbags? No way. Not even for you.”
“Thank you.” I barely keep my voice from lilting up at the end and making that a question.
The dean raises his glass in salute and then tosses back the remainder of his drink.
I mimic his actions but sip rather than gulp my wine.
I learned a long time ago that the key to surviving any kind of faculty mixer is to pace your drinking.
I may not have the innate intelligence to hold my own in this crowd, but I can definitely hold my liquor. So I do.
It’s been eight days since I trimmed Max’s hair. Eight days since he asked me to marry him. And then we slept together . . .
No. We didn’t sleep together.
We had sex.
So, eight days since we had sex and I told him I wasn’t going to marry him.
Eight days. It feels like an eternity. But only to me.
Apparently.
Max and I haven’t spoken—not alone, at least—since Saturday morning. Since I outlined all the reasons why we were a horrible match.
Some part of me had expected him to protest, because that’s what we do. I say something. He argues.
It’s our thing.
But he hadn’t argued. He hadn’t put up a fight.
