Been There Done That

by Smartypants Romance

  I settled in the chair, forced myself to meet Dean Gould’s eyes. I couldn’t read his expression one way or the other.

  I casted a vaguely interested glance around his office. It was one of the nicest on campus. Floor-to-ceiling window, fancy cherry furniture. A picture of a smiling young girl sat on his desk, angled toward him. I wondered who the little girl was and if he found it easier to smile at her.

  “Thanks for coming in on such short notice.”

  “Sure.”

  He folded his hands on the desk and raised one bushy brow at me. “I know you’ve had quite a bit going on for the last month or two.”

  I nodded politely.

  C’mon. Just hand me my metaphorical box so we can get this over with.

  He gave me an appraising look. “You look great, though. Well-rested.”

  I nodded again. No good would come of my extolling the virtues of daily orgasms with him, right before he outlined an exit plan.

  I decided I couldn’t take any more of his silence, the probing stare he aimed at me as if trying to see the inside of my brain. Enough of the suspense; I just needed to know already.

  “Why’d you ask me to come in, Peter?”

  His usual, haughty expression slid into place. “Dr. Leffersbee, I need to make you aware of a . . . delicate situation.”

  Please, just hurry up and fire me.

  “This is about my tenure. Right?”

  “Well. Yes. In a way.”

  “Okay . . .”

  He leaned back against the high-backed leather chair, clasping his hands just above his pin-striped covered paunch. “I have become aware of a situation in which a vendor, Nick Rossi, has presented us with a peculiar dilemma.”

  Oh, hurry the fuck up. I could tell he was enjoying this in his own perverse way, drawing out his words, studying the surface of his highly shined nails. “Please, Peter. Could you just . . . say it? Whatever it is?”

  “Mr. Rossi has generously offered a very significant donation. Very significant. To be split between the School of Medicine and the hospital.”

  Some of the tension left my shoulders. That didn’t sound bad at all. It sounded like a good development, as a matter-of-fact. “Okay.”

  But what did this have to do with my tenure?

  As if reading my thoughts, he continued. “We are all very excited about this development, as you may imagine. There’s just one problem. The gift is contingent on the School of Medicine granting you tenure. And funding your existing research. Without your knowledge.”

  I took in a breath and it got stuck.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  “I thought you’d want to know.” His gaze moved over mine, searching. “Especially if you’ve . . . elected to strike up a continued acquaintance with Mr. Rossi.”

  I sat still. Petrified. Unable to move, breathe, or speak.

  Had he really just said that? Had Nick really, what, blackmailed them? After I’d told him I had it under control, that I’d handle it?

  “We are, of course, in a quandary. The money would certainly solve many of our problems. And yet we still have an obligation to uphold our ethical standards. Therefore, I decided you should know.” His head lowered and he peered at me from under his brows. His eyes suddenly took on a decidedly flinty glint. “Unless you already knew?”

  That woke me up.

  “Of course, I didn’t know. What are you suggesting?”

  He spread his hands wide. “I’m merely the messenger, Dr. Leffersbee. I know about as much as you do.”

  Nick.

  Nick had extorted them, pressured them to grant me tenure. Asked them to lie to me about him funding my studies.

  He’d never believed in me. Never thought me capable of earning this on my own.

  How could I trust him, knowing he’d deceive me this way? That he’d go behind my back and try to pay my way? But hadn’t he already done it, with my help? Hadn’t I just fallen in line, given myself over as soon as he showed up?

  Now, I really did feel sick, sick enough to throw up on my own shoes.

  “We turned him down,” Dean Gould said, his gaze on mine. I buried my head in my hands, reeling from emotional whiplash. “Because three days prior to Mr. Rossi approaching Nellie with his offer, the committee here voted to approve your tenure.”

  “Wait . . . What?” My head snapped up and my eyes went wide as I searched his face for any hint that he was toying with me. “What did you say? I got tenure?”

  “You did.” His face cracked with the rarest of smiles. “Congratulations. We were aware, of course, of the requirement to obtain an R01 within this period of time. But we’re hardly ignorant of the fact that your work, your research, has greatly contributed to clinician training and education here. And while you did not obtain the designated grant, you’ve been extremely productive and brought in other forms of grant funding. So, I’m pleased to be the first person to congratulate you on this promotion.”

  He extended his hand across the desk.

  I shook it.

  I’d never imagined that this moment, one that I’d worried and agonized over for so long, would end so positively. I’d spent so long imagining every possible calamitous end that would befall my employees that I’d stopped entertaining the idea that I would actually make it.

  The moment I’d been afraid to dream for, a victory, a triumph, had finally arrived. All while I choked back hot tears.

  “I imagine this is a bittersweet moment for you.” Dean Gould’s sympathetic look was warmer than I thought him capable of. “But I thought it was important to tell you. You should have all the information you need before making any . . . significant decisions in the future.”

  Anger mounted, billowed in my chest.

  Hadn’t I said that very thing to Nick? When he’d justified making a decision on my behalf twelve years ago? A decision that separated us for all this time?

  I’d excused it, forgiven it of the eighteen-year-old with limited resources and fewer choices. But how could I justify this behavior from the man I intended to spend the rest of my life with? Could I accept being managed, manipulated, and controlled behind my back? All in the name of love?

  I’d earned tenure. Legitimately. But the victory tasted like ash in my mouth.

  Because losing Nick again, letting go of the dream and the life I’d anticipated with him, devastated me in a way that tenure would never come close to fixing.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Zor

  The smell of something wonderful met me as soon as I threw open my front door.

  God. Nick was here.

  I’d driven home, wanting to avoid him and the lake house until I thought through what I wanted to say. I’d forgotten we’d planned to meet me here so we could discuss our weekend in San Francisco.

  I’d been so busy sniffling and sniveling during the drive home that, like an idiot, I must have missed Nick’s car in the driveway.

  A joyful bark sounded from within in, then the thunderous noise of Sir Duke bounding to the door followed. He pranced in a circle, tail wagging, tongue lolling.

  I stroked a hand down his back, fighting back a fresh surge of tears.

  How was I going to do this? I loved Nick and I loved this dog.

  But I had to be strong.

  “Zora? Baby, that you?”

  Baby, I thought spitefully.

  I made it into the kitchen, bag in hand.

  Nick straightened from the kitchen table where he’d placed a plate on a placemat.

  “You’re back—”

  He stiffened, his gaze moving over my face.

  Several beats of silence passed as we stared at each other over the table. The air crackled with the anticipation of conflict, swelled with impending doom and disaster.

  I watched as knowledge entered his eyes and something like resignation unlocked his shoulders from around his ears.

  “You know.”

  I threw my bag on the counter, slammed my keys alongside it, fought
to keep my hysteria and voice low. I didn’t want to scare Sir Duke, and I didn’t want to give way to the panic fluttering in my chest like captive butterfly wings. Giving in to the terror would make it true, right? Best to stay calm, to figure out how this was all a joke, to embrace the relief of knowing the sun wasn’t about to set on the greatest love of my life.

  Calm, Zora. Steady.

  “That’s the best you can do? ‘You know’?”

  He blinked, said nothing.

  My chest heaved. “I just got my teeth kicked in by Dean Gould. I just heard that the man that I love went behind my back and orchestrated a deal, made me a charity case—”

  “Zora, that wasn’t my intention.”

  “What was your intention, then? If not to make me look like a fool. Again. If not to make it clear that you didn’t have any confidence in me, or my ability.”

  “It wasn’t you I doubted.” He spoke very quietly, his gaze locked on mine. “It was never you. It was the unfair system they had in place. You trusted them to do the right thing—”

  I held up a shaking hand. “Wait a minute. This is about me, now? Me being too stupid?”

  “I never used that word,” he said, sharply. “And this was not about you, it was all about them and the joke of a standard they were holding you to. I wasn’t going to stand around and wait to see if they did what was right by you. After all that you’ve done for these people, why should you be a puppet, dancing on their strings, just to keep your job?” He shook his head and his lips thinned. “No. No one is going to take advantage of you, use you, on my watch. I just cut the strings—that’s all—so you could keep doing what you wanted to do, but on your terms this time.”

  “So, you took it upon yourself to what? Deliver your own justice?”

  “I saw how hard you worked. Not just for the job, but for the people. For your patients, for your employees, for the causes you want to advance. All while you neglected yourself. I wasn’t going to wait around for them to acknowledge you and what you’ve done.”

  “Well, they did.”

  “What?” He frowned.

  “They did see my effort. Peter said they voted to approve my tenure three days before you approached them.”

  His derisive laughter sent a chill down my spine. “And you believe that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “It’s a clever solution, I’ll give him that. He tells you they were already set to give you tenure just to cover all the bases. Just in case. Meanwhile, they still cash in on the money. He says he’s not taking it, but just wait. You’ll see.”

  Stricken, I grasped the back of my neck. It hadn’t even occurred to me that Peter’s explanation might have been his own volley in a mercenary battle.

  Was Nick right? Had I really earned it, or was it just a strategic move on Peter’s part?

  “Zora, I love you, but you’ve got to see this the way I do, the way the other folks at the table do when they’re gambling away your life and livelihood. Life, winning, it’s all about having control. Having the upper hand. Being the strongest negotiator at the table. It’s a test of wills. It’s a game.”

  My stomach plummeted. “Was I a game?”

  He frowned, his mouth working. “What do you mean?”

  “Was I a game? You came back into town with the upper hand. All the power, all the money, all the influence. Knowing exactly what everyone needed. How hard up the school and hospital are for money, how worried I was. And look where we are today. All of us, eating out of your hand.”

  “No, that’s not—”

  “You’ve been gone all this time. You waited for years, years, until you showed up again and decided you wanted me back. And God, I just fell for it. I let you manipulate me again, just like you did all those years ago when I didn’t even know it. You put me on the back burner, did whatever you wanted to do in the meantime, and then when you snapped your fingers . . .” I shook my head at my own gullibility. “I fell right in line.”

  Nick rushed over to me and I knocked his hands away.

  “Do you realize what you’ve done? Asking my boss, my employer to lie to me? Trying to pay for my promotion? Do you realize how you’ve sullied my reputation? How those administrators, my colleagues, will look at me now?”

  His lips thinned. “You don’t even know that you want to stay there, and they don’t deserve you. You’ve said yourself that you’re starting to have second thoughts, new ideas about how you might—”

  “Then why did you do it?” A horrible thought occurred to me. “Did you just plan on leaving again anyway? Was this all some sick experiment to see if I’d fall for you, then you’d go on your merry way? What was this? Pity?”

  I looked at him as he stood before me, color high, breathing fast.

  He’d never lied about who he was. He had told me that money and influence—power—were the most important things to him.

  I loved this man, loved him more than I’d ever thought I was capable of loving someone not in my own family. He’d shown me a happiness, a possibility, a way of life I’d never thought possible. I hadn’t even known how much I wanted it, craved it.

  But I wanted myself, too. I wanted to excavate, to discover who Zora was and what she wanted, for once, finally.

  I’d never be able to do that beside a man who would manipulate and lie to me. Even if he thought it was for my own good.

  The words, when I finally spoke them, hurt. They tore my heart apart, wrenched my soul, sent all my newfound hopes crashing into a bottomless abyss.

  “You need to leave.”

  He gaped at me. “Zora.”

  “Please. Please go.”

  Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  He dropped to his knees, planted his head against my stomach, wound his arms around my waist. I heard the genuine fear in his voice.

  And it took everything I had not to rest my hand on his head, to run my fingers through those dark locks and tell him I understood, that it was okay.

  I wanted it to be okay. I wanted there to be a rewind button where I could go back, where none of this happened and I could sit down and eat whatever dinner he’d brought over and laugh about our day, plan a lazy weekend in San Francisco.

  But I couldn’t. Because as much as I loved him, I couldn’t betray myself. Or accept a lifetime of deception, no matter how benevolent it was.

  Sir Duke came to my side, his wet nose nudging my hand.

  God. I was not strong enough for this. I would not survive this.

  “Please leave,” I repeated, weeping now and hating myself for it.

  He stood.

  I averted my gaze as he moved around me. He made it all the way to the front door before I realized Sir Duke was still at my side, staring up at me with pleading eyes.

  I bent, hugged his canine face to mine. “I’m sorry, sweet boy.”

  Nick called to him from the front door.

  Sir Duke whined, not moving from away from me.

  I pressed one last kiss against his snout, then released. “Go. You have to go.”

  He gave me one last sad look before he broke away, slowly meandering to Nick at the front door.

  And just like that, they were gone.

  It was over.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Zora

  Three Weeks Later

  “So, you still haven’t talked to him?”

  I shook my head, dragged a fry through the mound of ketchup on the corner of my plate. “No.”

  Jackson cocked an eyebrow. “Any plans on talking to him soon?”

  “No.” Savagely, I suppressed the hiccup in my throat. Thinking about Nick, talking about him, was still hard. I never knew when I might start to cry.

  And I was done crying. I needed to accept the truth.

  “Have you guys talked at all since you asked him to leave?”

  “He dropped off two letters.”

  “Letters? Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  He shook his head, le
aned back in the booth with a noisy whistle. “Poor bastard.”

  I sent him a glare. The waitress heading toward our table took one look at whatever was on my face and headed in the opposite direction.

  I knew I wasn’t the best company at present. Jackson, as usual, had been a stellar friend and convinced me to quit my moping and enjoy an evening out to get my mind off of things. He was still buzzing with excitement, and more than a little latent lust, after watching a romantic comedy with one of his favorite stars, Raquel Ezra. I was somehow even deeper in my funk. I hadn’t really been enjoying my lunch at the Front Porch anyway, but now Jackson’s lack of sympathy further soured my stomach.

  “I thought you were on my side.”

  He snickered. “Fine. I’m on your side. Is that what you want me to say?”

  I was dangerously close to pouting. “No.”

  “He made a mistake, Zora.”

  “He was completely out of line. That’s not just a mistake.”

  “Listen. All guys mess up. All of us. It’s universal. Baked into our DNA. Even when we have the best intentions, we are gonna somehow mess it up. Now, his mess-up is directly proportional to the resources available to him. Meaning, a regular guy like me who sees someone messing with his girlfriend will use whatever tools he has on hand to address the issue, be it meeting up with the offender to give them a stern talking to, delivering threats, talking smack. As for beating someone up, I wouldn’t recommend it. Not as an officer of the peace. But you get the idea.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “But our friend Nick? Well, he has money coming out of where the sun doesn’t shine. When he sees someone jerking you around, he doesn’t have to wait outside in the parking lot for a guy to leave work.”

  “That’s awfully specific.”

  “Pay attention. Nick has the means to take on the whole system. And he did.” He ate approximately one quarter of his hamburger in one bite. “And if you weren’t so pissed at him, you’d be impressed. Hell, I’m impressed.”

  “All right, Jackson.”

  “No, seriously. I am sitting here across from you, someone who was perfectly willing to pulverize the guy a month ago, and telling you I think that guy is completely badass. What he did was epic.”