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“Christ, you smell like a goddamn brewery,” he says, sitting back in his large chair. “That was Ted Johnson. He’s excited about you taking over—”
“I need to stop you, Richard.” My voice is harsh, but then again, I’m starting to get used to it since that seems to be my new tone.
“You know that I think of you not just as my mentor, but as a friend?”
Richard leans forward, and his old hands reach for a box at the end of his desk.
“Why do I feel like I need one of these?” He pulls out a cigarette.
I don’t stop him as he lights up and closes his eyes, inhaling deeply as if he’s stealing a kiss from an old love, a secret, private obsession.
And there my own obsession floats around in the smoke, her big green eyes blinking at me as her lips whispered her love.
Christ, I’m tired. I just want peace.Just one second when I don’t see her.
I clear my throat and he takes another deep inhale, then opens his eyes to look at me.
“I broke the rule,” I state.
“Go on.” He exhales.
“I fucked a student.”
His hands shake. Nodding, he leans forward to snuff the cigarette out.
“Diane would kill me if I had more… her and my cardiologist.”
“I will, of course, put in my letter—”
He holds his hand up, stopping me. I lean back in my chair.
“Is it over?”
“Yes.” The pain in my chest makes me stand and walk to the window. Otherwise, I might actually rub it, like that can make it stop burning.
Unacceptable.
“Does anyone know?” His voice sounds way stronger than I thought it would.
I look over my shoulder at him sitting calmly, hands crossed on the desk. “Only my family.”
“Then what’s the problem?” He looks at the massive piles of paper on the desk.
“Richard–”
“Let me stop you, Brett. You’ve been like a son to me. We all make mistakes. I don’t know why you feel like you need to confess your sins, but we’re not Catholic priests, for fuck’s sake.” He shakes his head.
“I heard nothing, Dean Powers. Friday, I will be honored to stand in front of the faculty and students and welcome you as head dean. It is everything you’ve worked for all these years and deserve.”
I cross my arms and stare at him. “Richard, if you’re worried about the project–”
“Worried?I’m not worried about anything. Brett Powers doesn’t disappoint,ever.” He cocks his head at me.
“Is there anything else?” he goes on. “I’m having the painters come tomorrow morning. Are you still wanting the walls white? I, myself, think a color would be better, but it’s your office.”
“Green. I want that wall green, almost emerald. The rest can be white,” I snarl, not sure why I feel almost robbed.
He just absolved me. Richard looks behind him at the wall I pointed at.
