Page 127 of The Headmaster’s Rule

Juliana’s chair scrapes suddenly as she shoots to her feet, gaze shifting between us.

“Right,” she mutters. Her tone is heavy with disgust, but a smile tugs at her lips. “That’s my cue to leave.”

I clear my throat, pushing thoughts of Eleanor from my head as I glance at my daughter. “Are you sure? We could break out the Scrabble board, or—”

She touches my arm gently. “I’m sure, Dad.” Her eyes move to Eleanor, glittering. “But please remember my house is right next door. So keep it down.”

Eleanor glances at me, hand to her mouth in mortification, and I send my daughter a dry look.

But Juliana raises a good point. Not about us making noise, but about the lack of privacy, living on the edge of campus now that people know we’re together, and I get to thinking, not for the first time, that Eleanor and I might want to find our own place. Somewhere near the beach, perhaps.

It’s too soon, I tell myself, shaking the thought off. I don’t want to scare her by asking her for too much. Not after all we’ve been through with the board, the school.

“Goodnight, Juliana,” I say pointedly, and she gives me a peck on the cheek, squeezing my shoulder.

“Thanks for dinner. Happy Thanksgiving, guys.”

I watch my daughter leave, heart full and happy. Eleanor finishes her wine, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, smiling.

“That was so nice,” she says, almost to herself. “Tonight has been amazing.”

I shuffle my chair closer, leaning in to capture her mouth with mine. She mentioned she doesn’t spend the holidays with her folks due to their rocky relationship, and it makes something protective and resolute surge through me. She’ll never spend another holiday alone. Not as long as I have something to do with it.

Slow down, I remind myself, but I’m fighting a losing battle. Having her here tonight means more than I could have imagined. Knowing this isn’t a stolen moment. It’s not borrowed time. It’s a choice we’re making to be together, a life we could build.

Something that feels so right, in a way nothing ever has for me before.

Eleanor strokes my cheek, sighing. “I still can’t believe this is real. That we’re allowed to be this happy, without hiding. I keep thinking the board is going to call us in at any moment to say they made a mistake.”

I huff a laugh, running my thumb along her bottom lip. I know exactly what she means, because I’ve fought that feeling all week, until I got a letter from the board yesterday.

A letter she needs to read.

A slow smile spreads across my lips, and I push to my feet, holding out my hand. “Come with me.”

“What?” She glances up at me, half amused, half confused. “Where?”

I chuckle, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “My office. I want to show you something.”

“Now?” She glances at the window, where the cold, dark night presses against the glass. “Theo, it’s freezing out.”

I wave her protest away. “I’ll light the fire.”

She gazes at me uncertainly for a beat, then shrugs, a laugh slipping from her. “If you insist.”

We grab coats and scarves, stepping out into the icy night. The grass crunches under our boots, and that’s when I notice the snow. Only a dusting, but it’s the first of the season. The air is sharp and briny with sea salt, our breath rising in white puffs, the school grounds sparkling under the moonlight. We grin at each other as we cross the quad, bellies full, tipsy on wine.

And everything ahead of us.

We reach the main doors and I unlock them with the master key, entering the alarm code into the keypad. There’s a beep, followed by a click, then the quiet creak of the door as I lead Eleanor inside. She shivers, whether from the cold or being in the school corridor this late at night I don’t know, but I shrug off my coat and wrap it around her, over her own coat. She laughs, following me up the stairs, lit only by the moonlight spilling through the large windows.

On the top floor, I guide Eleanor into my office, flicking on the banker’s lamp on the side table. I could print the letter and leave, but she’s still shivering, so I lead her to the leather seats in front of the fireplace, then set about lighting the fire.

It only takes a few minutes before I have a roaring blaze, and she shrugs out of my coat, then her own, standing with her hands at the flames.

“What did you need to show me, Headmaster Wright?” There’s a faint purr in her voice that I recognize, one I’m very tempted to give in to, but not yet. Not until she reads the letter.

“Stay here and keep warm,” I say, turning away.