Understandably, I can barely go to sleep. I toss and turn all night.
My emotions go in waves.
I think about how Brigs will react. Will he be afraid? Happy?
I think about his job. Will he lose it? Keep it?
I think about being pregnant, about how I don’t know anything and how lost I’m going to be.
I’m so scared.
I’m so alive.
I’m buzzing with a million different feelings and in the end they’re all wild and warm.
I have Brigs’ baby growing inside me.
Too small at the moment to count.
But it already counts for so much.
This changes…everything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Brigs
“Thank you, Brigs,” Dr. Sarah Chalmers, the department chair of the university tells me with a polite smile as I ease myself out of the seat. “We’re glad that you told us everything when you did.”
I lean over to shake her hand, hoping my palm is dry. “I’m glad you and Phillip were able to see me,” I say, glancing over at the dean, Phillip Buck. As usual, his expression is blank, giving me nothing.
“We’ll let you know soon what we decide soon,” Sarah says and I wish I could read something in her voice that would give me a clue to my fate. But again, I’m blind to everything.
I give them both a nod and leave the office, happy to get out of there.
It took a lot of nerve and a few days to finally get my meeting with the department chair and dean to discuss my situation with Natasha. I’m fairly lucky that Sarah is the one who helped hire me, being friends with Keir’s uncle, Tommy. But the dean is the one who made a case out of the last professor. The one I replaced. The one that was fired for sexual harassment. It doesn’t exactly look good that my issue follows a similar theme.
But I told them the truth and that’s all I can tell them. Even if I don’t go back with Natasha, a thought so scary it leaves my chest concave and cold, I’d at least be certain I’d done everything I could.
Still, as freeing as it all is, it’s little consolation in a life without my golden girl by my side.
I head down to my office, wondering how long they’re going to deliberate for. Sarah had told me that though Natasha isn’t my student, she is a student in my faculty and I’m in a position of power over her if she were ever come into my class. Direct teacher student relationships are against the code of conduct because of grade manipulation and academic reputation and the result is almost always the professor losing their job. Melissa was right about that. But everything else is in a case-by-case basis depending on the relationship of student and teacher. The fact that Natasha and I knew each other before counts for something too.
That said, it didn’t sound very promising. It’s rarely permitted and only in certain circumstances. Basically, it’s never happened at King’s College. I can only hope that by me going to them and admitting the truth, that might help them see how sincere I am, how much it means to me. I know now, at least, that they aren’t going to fire me over my confession. But whether Natasha and are ever allowed to be together is another thing.
Another obstacle between us. Of course the greater obstacle is the fact that I haven’t seen or heard from her in weeks. I contacted her recently, two emails, just wanting to know how she was doing. But of course those were never answered.
I’m just at my office door when something compels me to look down the hall.
My head swivels, as if independent, and it takes me a moment to realize that Natasha is standing at the far end of the hallway, motionless and staring at me.
I don’t know what to do. Last time we saw each other like this, I ran after her and she kept running.
So this time I take a deep breath and manage to tear my gaze off of her before I run after her again, scaring her indefinitely. I open the door to my office and quickly step inside.
But I leave the door open.
It’s false hope but it’s still hope.
I sit down at my desk, my nerves misfiring, my heart drumming in ribcage. First the meeting, now this. I’m not sure I’m going to survive this semester in the end.
I stare at the door. I try to busy myself, do something else, but I stare at that damned open door and I hope and I wish and I pray that she’ll appear.
Then…
She does.
Like a ghost, she sidles into view and I have to blink at her a few times, trying to drink her in, to make sure she’s real.
She’s beautiful beyond words. Even in just jeans with what looks like a coffee-stain on the thigh and a white v-neck sweater, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and not a lick of makeup on her face, she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.
“Hi,” she says softly before looking around her, down the hall. “I was looking for you. Can I come in?”