Page 115 of She’s Worth the Risk

The way she teased me in Joe’s about being too intellectual in my approach to art, and forced me to consider how it made me feel. The sketchbook she bought me, and how insistent she was that I draw again.

What it feels like to make love to her, knowing she wants me as I am, for who I am, and never wants me to hold back.

There’s no denying I’d be devastated to lose my life’s work, but I also could never regret being with her. Even if she turns around and says she can’t stay in the city, can’t commit to the life I want, I’m still grateful for every moment we spent together.

She’s worth it all.

I let my breath out, waiting for Dr. Fuller to speak, but she’s still examining me through narrowed eyes. “Do you realize how serious this is?”

I nod solemnly, because I’ve known from the start. But the mere fact that she hasn’t told me to get out makes me bold enough to wonder—to hope—if I might still have a job.

“I’m prepared to step aside from the class,” I say cautiously.

She glares at me, irritation flickering in her eyes. The silence stretches long enough that my pulse spikes.

“You can’t step aside from the class, Dr. Sweetman,” she mutters at last, letting her readers fall onto the chain around her neck. “You’re the only person who can teach that class with Dr. Webber out on leave.”

Shit. She’s right. That’s why I’m in this damn mess in the first place.

She sighs heavily, massaging the bridge of her nose. “You’ve been an associate here for ten years now. A respected member of the faculty.”

I adjust my glasses, looking down at my hands. It’s unlikely I’ll be a respected member of the faculty once this gets out, but I can make my peace with that if I get to keep my job.

If I get to keep Zinnia.

Dr. Fuller’s shrewd gaze comes back to me. “You stepped in to cover Dr. Webber’s class at the last minute, and for that I’m grateful, but you cannot be involved with a student.”

My heart plummets. I knew this, of course. What else could I have expected?

“This is precisely the kind of situation we try to avoid,” she continues, tone laced with reproach. “It exposes the department to risk.”

“I understand,” I say, rising from the chair.

“Situations like this end careers, Dr. Sweetman.”

Heat creeps up my neck, but it’s nothing compared to the tightness in my chest when I realize what this means.

That it’s time to head back to my office and start packing up my desk.

“If this had come to me as a complaint, we’d be having a very different conversation.” Dr. Fuller pauses, and when I glance back, she’s regarding me warily. “But I suppose… there may be a way to contain the situation.”

“Contain it?”

She nods, sliding her glasses back up her nose. “The student would need to transfer out of your class.”

I blink in confusion. “Sorry?”

She leans forward, expression impatient again. “I need you to keep teaching that class,” she says, “and you cannot do that if she is in there.”

My mouth opens and closes as I search for words. “So I’m… I’m not fired?”

Dr. Fuller tilts her head, weighing this. “It sounds to me like you’ve crossed no ethical lines. You met before she was your student, did not pursue her while you were in a position of power, and you’ve disclosed this to me voluntarily. While it’s a little late in the game,” she adds pointedly, “it suggests a degree of integrity.”

My breath comes rushing out, and I sink back into the chair in disbelief.

“HR will want a formal record of this disclosure on file,” she adds, shuffling a stack of papers on her desk, as if she’s ready to move on. “And you will not meet with her one-on-one in any academic capacity. Got it?”

“Of course,” I say, stunned.