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The dean called everyone but Bastien to ambush us. Fantastic. His department sounds like a fucking wonderland.

“Bastien’s told me so much about you!” She smiles at me and then at Bastien. Bastien gives her a puzzled look for a second. Molly widens her eyes for a half second to send a warning and then smooths her face into pleasantness before Julia can notice.

“What a charming home!” Molly says. “Let’s get my wine someplace it can be chilled.”

I take the hint. “I’ll give you the grand tour,” I say, grandly escorting her to the kitchen. “Julia, make yourself comfortable on the couch, and we’ll open a bottle just for you.

“What the fuck?” Molly asks when we’re out of earshot. She rounds on Bastien. “Tell me this is not as bad as it looks, and that you’re not fucking a student?”

“It’s almost as bad, but we’ve been together since the summer,” I say. “Also, I’m not a student. I’m his student.”

“Better and better. Jesus Christ.” She glares at Bastien. “And you didn’t tell me? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because at least three people in this department are assholes and I was afraid you were the fourth!”

She rabbit-punches him in the arm. “Fucking toxic workplace bullshit. I went to bat for you in the hiring committee. You were supposed to be my ally against those assholes.”

“Well, you took your own sweet time telling me that!” Bastien whispers back.

“Well, I didn’t know you were going to self-immolate six weeks in!” she snaps.

“Hey!” I put in. “What’s done is done. Molly—can I call you Molly? We’re in love. I followed him here. I have proof that we were a couple before we came here. And can you please stop punching my partner?”

She slugs him one last time. “Fine. I’ll take Tracey aside and prepare her. She’s cool. She won’t lie and pretend she already knew like I’m about to, but she’s a genuinely awesome person. Meanwhile, we need to give that old hag something to do or she will snoop.”

“Board games,” I instruct Bastien. “The ones that aren’t in French.” We dug out several in the spare room upstairs while we were trying to find the kitchen gadgets.

“Right,” Bastien says. “You stay here with the preparations.” He takes a step into the dining room before his phone sounds. He takes it out. “Delphine just invited herself over. Do we have enough food?”

“Oh, great, Delphine,” Molly says. “Did she know, at least?”

“Yes,” we both say at once.

Bastien looks surprisedly at me for a second, then goes out to collect the games.

Molly shakes her head. I pour her the first glass of wine and she belts it down fast. “Hit me again. Jesus Christ. And that’s if they don’t conclude you’re a friend of Delphine’s.”

I pour some more red for her. “Level with me. Why did you say ‘friend of Delphine’s’ like it’s a euphemism?”

“Because it is a euphemism! The good news is that there’s an infinitesimal chance that a miracle happens and you’re going to walk out of this unscathed. The bad news is that if Delphine is here, A plus B equals, you’re a rent boy.”

“I’m a what?”

“Delphine Mercier researches prostitutes. Male, female, everything. So, obviously, the gossip is that she’s not above being a fucking procurer as well. Especially when they start to age out. He’s lonely, and you’re probably conning him out of everything he owns. Because, you know, studying sex workers means you’re a fucking pimp now. I can’t even.” She drains her wine. “Oh, God, that’s good wine.”

I pour another hefty sampling for her. “Bastien will lose his mind.”

“If you tell him,” she says significantly. “Look, I hate to say this, but at least if you’re a rent boy, you’re not a student. One is pitiable, and the other is actionable.”

“What am I supposed to do, wear a mask every time I’m in the hallways? They’ll find out eventually.”

“By which time, we’ll have gotten the paperwork in my hot little hands so that they can’t come after you. I need forms signed, I need to schedule a meeting with the Title IX coordinator and pretend it slipped my mind for six weeks that I needed to keep her in the loop. Meanwhile, we just need to survive this meal!” She takes another healthy sip, but at least she’s slowing down. “At least tell me he’s a good liar.”

“He’s terrible.”

“Fuck! Then you need to watch him like a goddamned hawk and make sure if he gets close to the edge for anything that you will shut him the fuck up. Especially if he realizes they think you charge by the hour.” She rubs her headache.

I sigh. “Fuck. I don’t give a damn what they think about me. They have zero power over me. What they can do to Bastien, though…” I shake my head. “Let’s just get through this dinner. The good thing about the South is that even if everybody thinks I’m for sale, nobody will be impolite enough to say it out loud in public.”