My mother blinks at him several times without speaking.
I feel ill. This was a bad idea. We should’ve lied. It’s not like my mom was going to fact-check our story. I could have said he did literally anything else. I could’ve even said he was a teacher at a different school. The public high school, maybe. She never had to know.
“I see,” my mother says evenly, placing her fork down on the table. Looking back at Cal, she asks, “And do you make a habit of dating former students?”
I cringe, but Cal’s not insulted and merely offers back a thin smile. “No. She’s the first. I expect she’ll also be the last. Just one of those things.”
“I’m not sure which ‘one of those things’ that might be. I’m not sure having a sexual relationship with a former student is typically ‘one of those things’.”
“Mom,” I say, pleading with my eyes for her to drop it.
“I’m sorry, Noelle, it’s a little strange. You were in his class as a pupil until six months ago. When did you start seeing him, exactly?”
“Who cares?” I toss back, rather than offering a fragment of the carefully thought out story we came up with before all this. “We love each other. This isn’t anything icky.”
“Okay,” she says, even more skeptical. “Long enough to love each other. That’s… so, at least three months? Four? Five? Did he call you the day after you graduated?”
Before I can answer, Callan does for me. “I understand why you’re skeptical, Miss Harper. I would be too, in your shoe
s. But, believe me, I am very serious about your daughter. It was when she was my student that she first caught my attention, but it was her mind that drew me in. I would read her papers, and they were so compelling. Skill and intelligence aside, I was fascinated by the way she viewed and processed the world. Hers was nothing like my point of view, but I was enthralled, nevertheless. I fell a little in love with her just peeking into her mind, though I obviously didn’t want to admit it at the time.”
Mom glances down the table at me, but I’m too busy melting into goo to reassure her that our stories line up.
Cal goes on, completely unapologetic. “As soon as she was no longer my student, yes, I did pursue her, and from a professional standpoint that’s certainly straddling a line that shouldn’t be crossed, but that should illustrate how important your daughter is to me. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and if I got fired over this, there’s not a school in the country that would hire me. I value my job, Miss Harper, but not enough to miss out on Noelle.”
My mom regards Cal for a long time, not saying anything. The wordless scrutiny goes on forever, but when she finally looks away, there’s no longer distrust or hostility in her gaze.
“Well, all right, then.”
My heart floats with relief. “Yeah?” I ask hopefully.
“I suppose people meet in all kinds of ways,” she says. “At least his interest in you was provoked by what’s in your head rather than what’s in your blouse. That’s more than I can say for most men.”
After a romantic evening strolling through Winterfest, drinking hot chocolate, ice skating, and stealing kisses beneath the mistletoe, Cal bribes one of the men driving the sleighs to give us a ride over to the Marymount Inn, just like he did last year.
Like last year, he helps me down like a gentleman, and like last year, sliding down his hard body fills me with lots of unladylike thoughts.
“I love tonight,” I tell Cal happily, hugging his arm and leaning my head against his bicep as we approach the reception desk.
“I love you,” he returns, leaning over and stealing a kiss.
I love him, too, but he knows that already.
Once we’re checked in, we head up to the same suite we stayed in last year. We’re more prepared this time. I set up my charger cord so my phone doesn’t die, and unpack a few necessities in the bathroom.
When I come back out, I don’t immediately see Cal. I look around and spot him at the door, wheeling in a room service cart.
“Did you order food?” I ask him, peering at the cart.
He shakes his head. “A drink.”
There’s a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket of ice with two glasses waiting to be filled. “Going all out for the anniversary, huh?” I tease, but he knows I love it.
“Something like that. Are you done unpacking? I want you to open your gift.”
“Oh yes, I want you to open yours too,” I tell him, thinking more of the naughty homework assignment I did for him than the expensive watch I bought him. It will look incredible on his sexy wrist, but if I’m being honest, the gift with sentimental value is my favorite.
Cal takes my hand and walks me around the couch. It’s only when we sit down that I notice he must have had flowers delivered ahead of us, because there’s a beautiful bouquet in the center of the coffee table. It’s festive, too, with reds and whites exploding out of the vase. Red roses and holly berries and carnations, big white lilies with baby’s breath. There’s Christmas tree greenery sparsely added in, and a bright red bow wrapped around the vase to finish it off.