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“Good God, love, have you lost your mind?” He has the audacity to force his expression into a worried frown. “What are you honestly going to do with that?”
“Lob it at your head if you don’t leave, after which I will call 911 and tell them that my estranged husband is in my house and refusing to leave.”
His jaw clenches, and his nostrils flare. “Fine. Have it your way. But remember, this is on you when you realize you’ve made yet another mistake. When you eventually come to your senses, and you will, I may not be so nice about taking you back.”
“The bullshit that comes out of your mouth is astounding.” I hug the stupid gnome to my chest and follow him to the foyer, needing to see him leave so I can lock the door.
He pauses in the front entryway, gaze stopping on the red hoodie hanging from the hook—the one Maverick left here.
His eyes narrow. “Red isn’t your color.”
“It’s the school color.” Not untrue.
“It looks awfully big for you.”
He reaches out to touch it, but I smack his hand. “Keep your hands off my things. And oversized hoodies are all the rage. Please don’t stop by again unannounced. Or at all, really, unless it’s to drop off the signed divorce papers.”
He opens the door and pauses. “Aren’t you going to visit your parents over the holidays?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Of course not. Well, have a merry Christmas.”
When I don’t respond in kind, he steps over the threshold. It looks like he’s about to say something else, but I close the door before he can and lock it.
I lean back against it and glance at Maverick’s hoodie hanging on the hook. What a stupid place to leave it, for anyone who comes to visit to see. It’s gigantic. It’s more like a dress on me. Thank God the lettering on the back spelling outHockeywasn’t visible. I pluck it from the hook and carry it back to my bedroom, where I hang it in my closet.
I still need to pack for my flight tonight.
And clean up my bedroom.
My thighs are already sore, and my butt hurts like I did a million squats.
As I’m picking up the discarded wrappers and tied-off, cum-filled condom bombs lying on the floor beside my bed, my phone pings.
I have a message from Maverick. His name isn’t applied to his contact, still coming up as a phone number because I didn’t want to make it conspicuous. Or maybe it’s more conspicuous without a name attributed to it.
Maverick: Checking to make sure you’re okay.
I respond right away.
Clover: Everything’s fine. He’s gone and Soph is coming over.
He offers to come back, but I’m aware he has to teach self-defense this morning, and that it would be better to wait a bit, just to make sure Gabriel isn’t going to return. I tell him I’ll be fine, but to message when he’s done with his self-defense class.
I bring my phone with me to the kitchen so I can work on cleaning up that mess. On the upside, the smell of burned pancakes, while unpleasant, does a lot to help cover the smell of sex, latex, and Maverick’s cologne, which I can still smell on myself.
Sophia shows up half an hour later. “Why does it smell like burned food in here?”
“Because I burned food.”
She sets the takeout cups from our favorite local coffee place on the table and scans the kitchen, eyes narrowed. I drop down in the chair, and she takes the one across from me while I fill her in on everything that’s happened, from Maverick coming over last night, to the mind-blowing sex, and then Gabriel showing up without warning and Maverick having to sneak out the back door. “I slept with my student, Soph,” I conclude. “Again.”
“Well, technically you slept with him before he was your student and then again when he became yourformerstudent, so this can’t come back on you as professionally or ethically damning.”
“But morally.” I press my fingertips against my eyes. “How will this look?”
Sophia sighs. “If you were planning on making a career as a professor, I would be concerned, but you’re covering a sabbatical, and you have a PhD in library science. This job was a stopgap and a way to pay for this divorce. Nothing more. I guess the question now is, are you planning tokeepsleeping with him?”
