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“Well, I’m glad to see you building a camaraderie rather than a competition.” Wendy’s voice was full of subtext. “I really am gratefulto have you both here. That discussion was fantastic and did a great job of modeling what participation and conversation in a lit class can look like. Maybe next time, turn the discussion to the students and see if you can pull them into the debate?”
Translation: stop your performative bullshit.
Allison and Colin nodded in unison.
“Great.” She clapped her hands. “One more thing before we go. Friday afternoon there’s a lecture at RISD on medieval architecture. Since you both have a vested interest in this period, I thought we could all attend.”
“I’m done with recitation at noon,” Allison said.
“I’m free all day,” Colin noted.
“Perfect. The talk isn’t until two. We can grab lunch first. Maybe off-campus for a change.”
Once they’d both agreed, their professor hooked her purse over her shoulder and slipped from the room, leaving Allison and Colin in a silence thick as mud.
Allison was snapping closed her tote bag when he cleared his throat.
“I wasn’t—” His words halted abruptly enough to pull her gaze to his face. His fingers danced against the table like he was playing a piano. “I wasn’t trying to undermine you.”
“Sure.” Allison tried to remain frosty as she shrugged, but the hesitation in his voice was quickly melting that resolve.
He always did this. Seeped into her cracks and split her open. She folded her arms as if they could keep him out.
Sighing, Colin dragged a hand through his gelled coif of hair and then hefted his bag off the table. “I know it’s easier for you to see me as a villain after…” He waved a hand. “Well… everything. And I get it. I just wish…” He shook his head.
“What?” Allison couldn’t keep the word on her tongue. Without realizing it, she’d slid a step forward. It felt like they were standing onthe precipice of something, dangerously close to an unforgiving edge. Tilt the wrong way and they’d both fall.
A second later, Colin pushed them over.
His eyes skimmed her face, soft as the brush of a fingertip, even as his mouth was a hard line. “You’re right. It’s the past. No rearview mirrors.”
Except everything about his tone suggested the opposite.
Chapter 11
Allison,
Your mother tells me you’re back in school. Something about an advanced degree? It didn’t make much sense to me, but then, you know my thoughts on college.
Work’s been the same. Busy. Paula is doing well, though we decided that living together really didn’t work for us so she’s back at her own place. I know your mother told you about my heart thing, but it’s not something to worry about. Just a blip in the system. She’s making a big deal out of nothing as usual.
Good luck with the school stuff. If we don’t talk before then, let me know if you’re going to come by for Thanksgiving so I can plan accordingly. The last thing I need is to buy extra food for nothing. We know you have a hearty appetite.
Jed
Allison paced the room, her phone gripped in her white-knuckled hand. This was the third time she’d read Jed’s email since she’d received it an hour ago, but instead of calming her down, she frothed over with anger each time she scanned it.
Never mind his dismissal of her biggest achievement—getting into a top Ph.D. program with the very scholar she wanted to study under—he hadn’t asked how she was. Instead, he’d insulted her mother, diminished her goals, and, to add insult to injury, called her a glutton. All in the span of three paragraphs. That had to be some kind of record.
Monty danced at Allison’s feet, trying to keep up with her brisk steps. When she pivoted suddenly, she almost squished his paw, and he yelped and scurried under the bed. Seeing him cowering beneath her duvet cover, his tall ears flat, Allison burst into tears.
Fuck Jed for doing this to her. Again.
He was her father. He was supposed to be supportive. He should be building Allison up, making her feel strong and powerful and capable. He was supposed to be a model for her future partner. Except Jed was nothing but a big warning sign, screaming in neon:Issues Ahead. Allison was so tired of it.
Kneeling on the carpet, she coaxed Monty into her arms and stormed down the hall. She needed Sophie. And a WCS. Anything to stop crying.
Her father shouldn’t get her tears. He didn’t deserve them. Someday, she’d stop giving them to him.
