CHAPTER 18

Emory

When I first met Shane at UCLA it wasn’t in the Colonial Beginnings of American Literature class he taught. It was at a coffee shop just off campus and the meeting was brief, yet impactful. My credit card had been declined, an embarrassing oversight in paying the monthly minimum, but I had just started my junior year and my parents had insisted I take over my incidental bills.

Shane had been standing behind me and gallantly bought my cup of coffee. It was one of those moments where you look at someone and you’re just struck by their beauty. Shane was gorgeous, and I could tell several years older than me, but I was a stammering idiot in thanking him. He later told me that he felt the same way when he saw me.

It was a chance meeting. We went our separate ways without exchanging names but there was a long, last, lingering look between us.

And then four days later, I walked into his classroom.

I don’t know who was more shocked. I had no clue he’d be teaching Colonial Beginnings of American Literature. It was an elective I chose only because I was late in making my selections and it was open and fit into my schedule. My major was in English lit with a minor in mass communications. I had aspirations of writing a bestselling novel, hence the English major, but was hedging my bets on a more stable career, thus the mass communications minor.

At any rate, it was almost two weeks into the course before he ever said a word to me. During that time, I found his eyes on me a lot as he talked from his lectern, and my eyes were always on him rather than taking notes. In hindsight, I’m not sure how I passed that class because, despite the fact we eventually became lovers that semester, he never cut me any slack.

It started off innocent enough. My offer to buy him coffee as a thank you for catching me that one time. That led to drinks. To dinner. To a kiss. To making out. To sex. To love.

I was deeply, head over heels, in love with my college professor, and I couldn’t tell anyone about it.

Except I did.

I told Jenna, but she and I held no secrets from each other.

It was too risky to Shane for us to be known as a couple, so we secretly saw each other. We spent every waking minute together when we weren’t on campus. We were in love and then I became pregnant in my senior year.

It wasn’t planned. I didn’t want kids, at least not until I was in my thirties and had an established career.

But Shane was ready for children. He was in his early thirties and the next thing I knew, he was proposing.

I loved him. I had a choice to make, and while I didn’t think I was ready for a kid, I couldn’t imagine my life being better in any other way. It’s a choice I’ve never regretted, no matter that my marriage ultimately fell apart.

As I move to the door to answer Shane’s knock, my stomach tightens into coils of dread. I’m transported back to the days before we separated, where I never knew what Shane would be coming through our door. Normal Shane, all easy-going smiles. Stoned Shane with bleary eyes and delayed responses. Angry Shane, who didn’t like the fact I rode his ass about taking drugs.

I have no clue what’s on the other side of my door, and I close my eyes a moment to collect myself.

We’re as ready as we can be. I talked to Nora yesterday afternoon and explained the situation. She had a lot of advice but it boiled down to being transparent with Felicity on what was going on, only offering information as she asked questions and making sure it was appropriate to her age.

That evening, I sat down with Felicity, and Jenna was there too. I explained her father was in town and wanted to see her. At first, her expression was blank, then confused. As if she couldn’t even remember who I was talking about. Then it clicked and she got excited.

I had to back her up a bit and explain some things.

I had to get her ready for the potential of Shane failing her.

In age-appropriate terms and being vague where it was necessary, I explained her daddy had been sick. I used the word addiction because when I told her he was sick, it wasn’t with the stomach flu that could be helped with some doctor prescribed medicine. I explained about his ski accident and pain and pain pills and how people can become addicted. I gave a lot of credit to Shane for his repeated attempts at sobriety, and I refrained from talking about my frustrations and disappointments in him. She’d have to figure that out on her own.

Tags: Sawyer Bennett Arizona Vengeance Romance
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