Dear Professor(50)

“But isn’t the guy in a relationship?”
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“Can we stop now?” I grabbed my coffee and sipped it. “I’m done talking about this.”

“Darce! Ignoring this situation won’t make it go away.” She hit me lightly on the foot. “If you’re having sex with a guy who isn’t single, it’s only going to blow up in your face. You need to get out. Now.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is! Tell him you refuse to continue seeing him unless he’s single.”

“Bella, trust me. It isn’t that simple. I’m not exactly doing this as a hobby to fill up my free time.”

One of her dark, perfectly shaped eyebrows arched. “Then why are you doing it?”

“Because I don’t have a choice. Can you trust me and leave it at that? Please?”

“Fine,” she replied after a moment’s pause. She tucked her brown hair behind her ear and gave me a gentle look that had a hint of pity in it. “I’ll trust you, but can I give you a bit of advice?”

“Of course.”

“I’ve been here.” She stretched her legs out and patted my knee. “He promised me for a while that he’d break up with his girlfriend, but he was lying. I found out in the paper that he was engaged. Worst thing? He was my best friend too. I didn’t only lose someone I was in love in, but I lost my closest friend.”

“I’m sorry.” I squeezed her fingers. “That sucks.”

“It did. Still does a little. Which is why I’m not being flaky when I tell you that you can’t go on like this. At the very least, you need to confront him. Ask him what his intentions with his relationship are. Even if he only finds out that you know, that’s something.”

I took a deep breath and wrapped my fingers around my mug. The steam curled into the air in front of my eyes as Bella’s words sank in. She was right. If nothing else, I had to confront Jordan about his relationship status. Even if he and his wife were estranged, I had a right to know so that I could shake this guilt off.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “I will. I promise.”





Dear Professor, get ready, because your skeletons need some sunlight. Xoxo, Darcy.



Twenty-four hours passed in silence.

I was thankful for the time he’d given me. There had been no e-mail. I’d expected one or two at the very least, but no. Radio silence.

I couldn’t get rid of the thought that maybe he was with his wife. Were they together right now, having a nice lunch out someplace? Were they at the movies? Maybe they were doing some early holiday shopping or visiting with friends or family.

God. I needed to snap out of this. I didn’t even like Jordan. Not like that. Was I attracted to him? Ridiculously so. Could I stop thinking about him? No. But not in a lovesick way. In a…will-he-do-it-again-right-now-please? way. In a what-about-his-wife? way.

Fuck that.

I was done moping and wallowing in my own self-loathing and guilt. I’d been holding on to this knowledge for days, and what had I done with it? Nothing. I’d just continued on pretending like I didn’t know and letting him manipulate me.

Fuck it. Not anymore. No way. That dumbass agreement might have had me pegged as his personal whore, but that was sexually. Not emotionally.

Emotionally¸ I was still Darcy fucking Hamilton. And Professor Jordan Keaton was about to find that out.

I grabbed my keys and my phone and slipped my shoes on. I grabbed a jacket for good measure and put it on as I ran downstairs. I managed to slip out of the house without anyone stopping me and jumped into my car. Nerves bundled together in my stomach as I drove away.#p#分页标题#e#

I should’ve turned around. This was insane.

What if he wasn’t alone?

What if he was home but his wife was there?

What if she had no idea about what he did when she wasn’t around?

What if she did know and it was an open marriage? What if I was cutting down the boundaries they’d set by showing up?

I should have definitely turned around. I should have gone home and made plans to talk to him tomorrow after class. That would’ve be the smart idea, wouldn’t it? Yes. It would have.

Which is obviously why I didn’t turn around and, instead, two minutes later, found myself outside his house. I stopped at the end of his drive and tapped my fingers against the steering wheel. Despite the trees, I had a clear view up the driveway, and the only car parked was his own. I knew that that didn’t mean anything, but I bit the inside of my cheek anyway.

My phone buzzed in the center console. My teeth moved from my cheek to my lip, and I nibbled my way along my lower lip. I needed to leave. Right that second. I reached for the key in the ignition but pulled my hand back a second later. Then did it again.