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A lesson I know you’ll never forget.
It isn’t long before my office and the auditorium feels less like an icebox and more like an actual building.
I take off my coat and survey my efforts so far.
Not too shabby. I’ve packed all my books, with just a few filing cabinets of papers to box up and I’m done.
Taking a seat at my desk, my hand hovers over my phone. Willing Sheree to call me but realize I may have had my tongue deep inside her creaming honey pot but I still don’t have her phone number.
I could ask Zoe for it, text her or maybe even call her?
But that would be too suspicious.
Glancing at the clock, I’m supposed to be heading over to the theater anyway.
Twisting my mouth for a moment, I decide on another course of action.
Snatching the receiver from the phone on my desk, I call the real estate agent’s number about the country house.
Not surprised when he asks if I saw the ad in his window this morning.
“No, not at all,” I tell him. Noting his suspicion when he hums to himself.
“Interesting, because I only put the notice up this morning,” he remarks absently.
But I don’t give a shit what he thinks.
“Professor Grayson,” I announce, proceeding to explain my interest in purchasing the old place, not just looking at an ad in his window.
That makes the guy change his tune, and in less than five minutes I’ve got a ton of photos, floor plans, and even aerial photographs of the place sent to my inbox which I study on my phone.
It’s… it’s perfect.
And the asking price? Well. It’s not cheap, but I can afford it.
A professor's pay isn’t as great as it sounds, but the textbook and study guides I’ve written spanning a twenty year career have set me up nicely.
Not renewing my contract with the college was my idea, even after they offered to pay me double.
Zoe’s future is assured, and so is Sheree’s. So is our whole future family’s.
Smiling over at the one thing I haven’t packed away, I tell her out loud.
Sheree's picture stares back at me.
A different kind of flush in her cheeks as she cuts into her cake.
Like she already knows about the surprises I have in store for her.
“I’ve found us somewhere. Home,” I murmur, thumbing the frame before I swipe my phone, taking in some more images of the place.
The thrill in my chest as I think of it. As I think of her. Thinking just how happy we’ll be once I—
My phone vibrates in my hand.
A text message from Zoe.
Where are you?
I feel my feet fall from the edge of my desk where I had them perched, a low groan escaping my lips.
Zoe.
The one heart in all of this I’m worried is going to be broken. And maybe permanently.
I can’t spoil things now though. Not for her, or for me and Sheree.
On my way, I almost text her back. Slowly moving back into action.
Telling myself I’ll text Zoe but I don’t.
I just can’t right now.
Vowing instead to return for the packed boxes a little later on.
My last chance to keep Sheree back after class.
This time for good though.
Forever.
I smile at the word in my mind next to the image of her spread eagled on my desk.
Instinctively I head to my car, pulled by an invisible line I know is only leading straight back to what I want more than anything else in the world.
Sheree and the baby I need now more than ever to fill her with.
Chapter Eleven
Sheree
“What is it with you lately, Shez?” Zoe asks, giving another suspicious, sidelong glance as I nervously scan the view outside the large diner window by our booth.
Sliding my eyes back to hers, I glide them over her latest project, Niles ‘Romeo’ Cartwright.
“I could be asking you the same question,” I retort, surprising Zoe with a healthy serving of her own sass in reply.
She pretends to look offended, and then turning her head, she follows my eyes back to Niles, who’s insisted on ordering for us all, and she starts to giggle.
“I’m not seriously interested in him,” she murmurs, blushing as she tries not to make a face.
“He’s the lead actor and a bit of a heavyweight with the theater group,” she explains.
“If I play my cards right…” she says, but we’re both interrupted as Niles raises his voice, an argument starting at the counter between him and a waitress, with a local joining in for good measure.
It’s nothing serious. Just his over the top reaction to the lack of vegan food and drink in a small town that’s more country than city.
Zoe hides her laughter behind a menu, but I feel my stomach suddenly full of nerves.
I’ve never liked the sound of raised voices, people shouting.
It reminds me of every time I’ve been on the receiving end of some cruel prank, howling laughter following me, or some school bully shouting horrible things at me.
