Her lack of control surprised her and she shivered at the thought of meeting him in person. Better to not get involved with that. Better to stay where she was, grading papers, falling asleep to soap operas. She was thirty-nine now. Fantasies were for people who had the time and motivation to make them a reality. She’d had fantasies once. Fantasies of a husband and children and forever. But that was before she’d wasted her best childbearing years on a man who’d squandered them on another woman. Mr. Bitesalot was just another figment of her imagination that would dry up like old paper in the back corners of her mind.
Well, it was a nice dream, she thought to herself before her exhausted body finally sank into unconsciousness.
Chapter 4
“It’s just that I’m running out of time,” the student said, gesturing frantically, “And if I don’t get a good grade in your class, they’re, like, not going to even look at my application for the study abroad.”
“I understand,” Holly said, “Completely.” What Holly was thinking was: you really should have thought about that before you decided to skip a month of classes.
“So can you help me out?”
Holly glanced down at the student’s last paper and nibbled the end of her pen. No citations on her quotations. A book analysis copied and pasted from the web. A clear lack of understanding of any of Toni Morrison’s works. Holly looked up, offered a smile, and said, “Yes, of course.” With that, she plucked an extra credit assignment from her drawer and walked the student to the door of her office. “Hand this in to me by the end of the week and I’ll see what I can do.”
A wide grin erupted over the student’s mouth, like she was getting away with murder (she was—metaphorically speaking, of course). “Thanks, Dr. Wright,” the student said.
Across the hall, through an open door, Holly caught sight of Lacey Cardell at her desk. At she wasn’t alone. She had her arms around Chris Cardell, Holly’s ex-husband. And they were kissing. Passionately.
“Yes, of course,” Holly said, absently, but the student had already dashed down the hall like she was making for the getaway car. Holly tried to sneak back into her office undetected, but—
“Holly!” No such luck. Chris was already bounding across the short hall on long legs, cheesy grin plastered on his mouth, Lacey in tow.
She forced a smile of her own. Good form. “Hi, Chris. Lacey.”
“Hey, Holl,” Chris hooked his arm around her middle and pressed a kiss to the side of her face. The brush of his lips sent a flutter through her even now. “Your father says hi.”
“Tell him hi back,” she said. When they’d been married, her father had been kind enough to set Chris up with a high-paying job at his hotel business. After the divorce, Chris had kept the house, the money, and the job. He also occasionally still passed brief Hallmark greeting card-style messages between the two.
“Did you hear the good news?” he asked.
“Um…” Holly glanced between him and Lacey, who was glowing beside him. Please don’t let it be another kid, Holly thought selfishly.
“Lacey got tenure!” he said, extending his arms.
Oh God, please let it be another kid.
“What?” Holly said, her face white. It was hard to keep her smile on, but she fumbled to put it back. “That’s…great. Congratulations.”
“I know, right?” Lacey smiled. “I’m officially the youngest tenured teacher here—how cool is that?”
“Mm,” Holly said. Inside, she felt like her heart was being pin cushioned. Take my husband, take my house, but do not take my job. “Well, I’m happy for you two. I’ve got some papers I have to finish grading—”
Holly tried to back up into her office, but Chris held the door ajar. “Holl.” She turned back to him—Lacey had retreated back to her desk and now it was just the two of them in her office. He was wearing that secret, boyish smile. “You don’t think I’ve forgotten about you, do you?”
A weird jolt of excitement shot through her blood. Maybe it was just a phantom shudder from last night, something left over. “What do you mean?”
He unbuttoned his black jacket and reached into his inside pocket. He pulled out a small box—thin, rectangular—and held it out to her. “Happy birthday.”
She took it in her hands and glanced up at him, blinking.
“Well? Open it up.” He laughed.
Holly carefully slipped her nail underneath the seam of the wrapping paper and eased it open. When she finally got the package unraveled, she turned it over and saw—