by T. K. Leigh
“I’ll go to the dean and let him know, assuring him we ceased all contact once we learned the truth. I’ll request a third party grade all your papers and exams, and I’ll forego having class participation be a part of the final grade this semester in order to appear neutral.”
I nod, still having difficulty coming to terms with this new reality. My eyes scan his desk, everything about it as neat and orderly as I imagined it would be. As I continue looking around, I spy a copy of the syllabus he probably handed out before I’d arrived. I pick it up, my throat tightening even more.
“And you’re only going to disclose this to the dean, right? No one else?”
“Of course not,” he insists, then corrects himself. “Well, there are ethical concerns, so to err on the side of caution, I’ll be informing my boss at the newspaper where I work.”
“You’re an associate attorney at the Times,” I state, reading his credentials listed at the top of the paper.
“Yes,” he answers, ignoring the forlorn expression on my face. “My boss is friends with the dean and is actually the one who recommended me for the adjunct position here, so…”
Our eyes lock. “I can’t let you do that. Can’t let you tell either of them.”
“I don’t have a choice,” he whisper-shouts, placing his hands on the desk and leaning toward me. “This is my career.”
“That may be true, but your boss at the newspaper? David Jensen?”
Lincoln’s expression blanches, seeming to sense I’m about to drop yet another bomb on him. Which I am.
“He’s my father.”
Chapter Seventeen
The surprise that covered Lincoln’s expression when he turned around and realized I was one of his students is nothing compared to the utter and morose shock now plastered on his face. His jaw drops open, his eyes scanning me, probably for any hint of resemblance to the man who hired him…and could fire him.
“But your last name is Davenport.” He shakes his head, brow furrowed, as if hoping the fact I don’t share his last name will negate the DNA running through me.
“After he divorced my mother, I took her last name. I didn’t want a reminder of that man attached to me for the rest of my life.”
He exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Chloe, I—”
I step toward him, folding my fingers together as I beg for him to keep this quiet. “Please, Lincoln. Maybe if it were just the dean, it wouldn’t be so bad. There’d still be a chance he’d mention it to my father, since they’re friends, but this… With my father being your boss? There’s no way the dean won’t tell him. And my father cannot find out.”
“It’s not up to me! I have to report this. It’s right here in black and white.” He points to the book in front of him. “I’m obligated to report any prior relationship with a student to the dean.”
“Who will tell my father since you work for him,” I hiss back. “Please. I am begging you.” Tears dot my eyes, my throat closing up.
“Why don’t you want him to know?”
I wrap my arms around my stomach, warming myself against a sudden chill enveloping me. Do I feed him some line in the hopes he’ll grant my request? Or do I tell him the truth, revealing another fragmented piece of myself?
“Help me understand.” His voice softens, reminding me of the way he’d whisper sweet words in my ear as I drifted off to sleep in his arms. I want to curse the world for being so cruel. For giving me a taste of something I never thought possible, never thought I wanted, only to rip it away, dangling it in front of me like a memento of something I can never have again.
“You never could. You probably had the perfect life. The perfect fucking family who supported you through everything.”
He parts his lips, but I hold up my hand.
“Well, I didn’t. As you’ve figured out, my father’s a bit of a hard-ass.”
He snorts out a laugh, the tension momentarily cracking. “You can say that again.”
“And he’s always been that way.” I draw in a deep breath, attempting to compose myself, swiping at the few tears that had managed to escape. “All my life, I’ve been nothing but a disappointment to him and his impossibly high standards. I get that all parents want their children to succeed. But nothing I did was ever good enough. Nothing I do is ever good enough.”
I pull my lips between my teeth. “For once, I’m close to finishing something on my own.” I lower my voice. “I’m close to finally being able to prove to my father I’m not just a massive disappointment.”
“Chloe, I—”
“I know it makes no sense,” I interrupt before he can utter a single word of sympathy for my fucked-up childhood and adolescence. “Why should I care what he thinks? I ask myself that same question constantly. A part of me doesn’t care. But as you’ve learned, my father is extremely stubborn. And that stubbornness is genetic. So instead of writing him off like I should have years ago, I keep trying. Just to say I proved him wrong.”
I meet Lincoln’s eyes that are awash with compassion. Something about the way he gazes upon me makes me think he’s dying to wrap me in his arms and comfort me. But he can’t do that. Never again.
“If you report this and he learns I had a prior relationship with my professor, with one of his employees, he’ll never let it go. He’ll always think I only passed because I screwed my way to a passing grade. Just like he thinks the only reason I was promoted from receptionist to columnist at the magazine is because I was the only one willing to trade my body for tips on celebrity comings and goings. While there may be some truth to his opinion, it’s not the only thing that’s gotten me to where I am. If he finds out about this…” I shake my head, swallowing. “If you report this, he’ll always see me as the naïve twenty-two-year-old girl who made a terrible decision and got herself in a bad situation just to prove she could do more than answer a phone.”
He stares at me for what feels like an eternity, dozens of questions on the tip of his tongue after this admission, something I didn’t think I’d ever share with him, or anybody. Finally, he blows out a long breath, his shoulders falling.
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this, but okay.” He brings his eyes back to mine. “We’ll keep this between us.”
All the tension rolls off my body, gratitude filling me. “Thank you.”
His expression hardens, his jaw tightening, nostrils flaring. “But if I hear the faintest hint of whispers about us, it will leave me no choice. So do not speak a word about this to anyone. Do not say anything during class that would lead anyone to believe there has ever been anything between us.”
The compassionate Lincoln is gone, serious and stern Lincoln taking his place. “For all intents and purposes, the relationship happened before you were my student anyway, and once we were aware of the situation, we ceased all contact. Neither one of us is taking advantage of the other, so if we keep it quiet, no one will ever know about it, considering I have no intention of continuing this relationship.”
“Such a lawyer,” I comment, his words stinging more than I thought they would. “Trying to get off on a technicality.”
“Do you see any other option?” He pinches his lips together. “Need I remind you, I’m the one whose ass is on the line here. I’m doing this as a favor to you. I can go down the hall and report this right now. I should go down the hall and report this.”
“No,” I respond urgently, advancing toward him, desperate. “It’s okay. You’re right.” I swallow hard as I straighten my spine. “There is no other option.”
We stare at each other in silence for several moments. Then he nods. “So we’re in agreement. We’ll continue on with our lives as if this never happened. We’ll forget about everything.” His tone rises in pitch at the end, his words neither a question nor a statement.
I bite on my lower lip to prevent Lincoln from seeing how difficult this is.
“It’s already forgotten.”
Chapter Eighteen
I barrel i
nto our normal happy hour meeting spot and make a beeline for the bar, plopping into the empty barstool to the right of Evie, Nora and Izzy sitting on the other side of her. While I’m thrilled Izzy was able to find time in her schedule to come out with us, seeing her only reminds me of Lincoln, considering she was present during the blackout that started it all.
Fuck Vegas.
And fuck whoever’s responsible for that damn blackout.
Why couldn’t Vegas have lost power and cell service one day later? Better yet, why couldn’t our flight not have been canceled? Why did Lincoln have to steal my panties? And why did I have to go get them back?
I should know better. Hell, did I not learn anything from the story of Orpheus and Eurydice? He lost everything that was important to him because he looked back, a lesson to all to only look forward. Not only did I look back, but I made several return trips to the all-you-can-eat buffet. Now the hostess is telling me I’ve overstayed my welcome.
“Is everything okay?” Evie’s brow wrinkles as her analytic eyes survey me.
“Fucking marvelous.” I wave down Aiden, our handsome, yet very gay bartender. He begins pouring my usual martini. “Get me a shot of Jameson, too.”
He peers at me quizzically, as do my three friends, particularly Izzy, who’s more than aware of my reasons for not drinking much. I need it today, though.
“What’s going on?” Izzy asks once I slam back the shot.
“Did something happen at class?” Nora chimes in.
“Did you get kicked out for being late?” Evie presses.
I draw in a deep breath, placing my palms against the cool wood of the bar. “No, I didn’t get kicked out for being late. This is undergrad, Evie. Not the fucking Marines.” I playfully roll my eyes, which elicits a laugh from Nora and Izzy. “But something did happen at school.”
“What is it?” She leans toward me.
“I—”
She holds up her hand. “Wait. Are we talking ‘need to take the edge off’ kind of something? Or is it more like ‘line ‘em up and let’s get wasted’?”
“It’s more along the lines of ‘I don’t think there’s enough bourbon in all of Kentucky to handle this’.”
The girls look at each other, eyes widening, before zeroing in on me, sitting on the edge of their seats.
“Okay. Spill.” Evie fishes the Maraschino cherry out of her manhattan and tugs it off the stem with her teeth.
I bring my own drink to my mouth, taking a sip of the smooth vodka. And of course, being a martini, it only serves as another reminder of Lincoln. I’ve known this man less than two weeks, yet I find pieces of him in every part of my life. Is that how it will always be? God, I hope not.
Exhaling, I place my glass back on the bar, squaring my shoulders to address my friends, their expressions akin to children meeting Santa for the first time.
“When I got to campus today, I was only about ten minutes late. No biggie. At least for me,” I add when I see the absolute horror on Evie’s face at my admission. “So I snuck into the classroom and grabbed a seat in the middle of the lecture hall.” I bring my drink back to my mouth with a trembling hand, forcing a smile. But even a fake smile can’t mask the hurt in my voice. “And that’s when the professor turned around and I found out who would be teaching my First Amendment class.”
“Oh god,” Nora exhales. “It’s your father, isn’t it? Did you not check the schedule to see who it would be?”
I wave her off. “It wasn’t my father. Thank fuck for that.”
“Then who?” Izzy asks.
On a hard swallow, I allow his name to roll off my tongue. “None other than Lincoln Moore.”
“Holy shit.” Nora takes a big gulp of her drink, as if she were the one who’d walked into class and learned the guy she’d been sleeping with was her professor.
“Oh, my god,” Evie exhales.
“Hold on a second,” Izzy says, her mouth agape as she stares at me, knowing I wouldn’t have told Evie and Nora about Lincoln if there weren’t still something there. “You’ve been seeing Lincoln Moore and never said anything?”
“His name is just Lincoln,” I respond, not wanting her to pick up on Nora’s and Evie’s habit of referring to Lincoln by his full name. “And you’d know about it if you stopped working long enough to meet me for coffee. I haven’t seen or talked to you since Vegas, so I didn’t exactly have a chance to tell you.”
She waves me off. “Whatever. That’s not important right now. What is important is what’s been going on with you and Lincoln.”
“Nothing now.”
“Well, before.”
I shrug. “We…reconnected.”
“Reconnected how?”
I chew on my lower lip. “He kind of took my panties. And I kind of went to get them back.”
“And what? You kind of slipped and fell on his dick?”
“It is an impressive dick.”
It’s silent for a moment. Then the girls’ laughter carries through the bar, overpowering the chatter and music.
“Guys,” I whine. “It’s not funny. This is serious!”
“I know, I know,” Nora says, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “We’re not laughing at the situation.”
“Then—”
“You tripped and fell on his dick?” Evie giggles.
“Kind of. I mean, that guy has some serious game.”
“What are you going to do?” Nora asks the question on everyone’s mind.
I shrug. “Hope my advisor agrees to let me fulfill these credits with an independent study instead. This is the last class I need to graduate, but I don’t want to sit in that room every Thursday for fifteen weeks or however long the semester is.”
“I’m sure she’ll agree,” Evie assures me. “After you disclose your relationship to Lincoln, there’s no way they’ll let you stay.”
“Right.” I avert my eyes, taking another large gulp of my drink.
“What is it?” Izzy tilts her head.
I glance at her sideways, then blow out a breath. “We kind of agreed to keep it quiet.”
“You what?” Evie shrieks, aghast.
“That’s crazy,” Nora adds.
“Not to mention a horrible idea,” Izzy offers. “No matter what you may think, these kinds of things never stay quiet forever.”
Briefly closing my eyes, I clench my fists. “I understand that, but there’s no other option.”
“Yes, there is,” Nora pushes. “My replacement roommate after you dropped out made the mistake of hooking up with her TA. It went on her record. On both their records. And it affected him for years, all because they got drunk one night, messed around, and someone eventually found out about it.”
“It’s not optimal, but…” I release a heavy sigh. “It’s not just the fact he’s my professor. I knew he was a lawyer, but I assumed he worked at some high-power law firm.”
“Is he some ambulance chaser instead?” Evie presses.
I bury my face in my hands, shaking my head. “No. Worse.” When I finally lift my eyes and stare at my friends, the truth is plastered in my expression, at least enough for Izzy to put the pieces together. Who better to teach First Amendment Law than someone who practices it on a daily basis?
“He works for your father, doesn’t he.” It’s more a statement than a question.
I slowly nod.
“And you’re worried if Lincoln reports this it’ll get back to your father.”
“It’s not a question of if. It will happen. My father and the dean golf together. Plus, Lincoln teaches at the university because of his experience as a lawyer for the newspaper. Because my father recommended him for the job. He was adamant about telling his boss…until he found out my relationship to his boss.”
“And your father cannot know,” Izzy says in understanding.
“Precisely.”
“I don’t follow.” Evie scrunches her nose. Out of the three of them, she’s known me the least amount of time, com
ing in at a point in my life when I’d already distanced myself from my father.
“We have a…difficult relationship.”
“Difficult? How? He’s your father.”
I can understand how she’d be confused. She comes from the stereotypical family. Two loving parents. An older brother who adores her and most likely put the fear of God into all the boys she’d dated in her past. Hell, they probably even have a cookie-cutter house with a picket fence, à la Leave it to Beaver.
“He may be my father, but that always came second. Maybe even third or fourth on his list of priorities. His job always came first. Always. It still does.”
While he did remarry soon after divorcing my mother, it’s a strange marriage. I don’t feel any love between him and Tiffany. No passion. No intense need to be with each other. I think my father simply wanted to have a woman on his arm during important functions. And Tiffany was more than happy to have a career as a housewife. It’s not like it was with my mother, a woman who had strong aspirations of her own.
“He’s always had impossibly high standards.”
“So did my parents,” Evie offers, still trying to understand this.
“Nothing I did was good enough. If I won the class spelling bee, he’d point out I failed to win the school-wide competition. If I won a fencing match, he’d comment how my opponents weren’t well-trained. If I were cast as the lead in the school play, he’d mention all the flaws in my performance. All of this in the hopes of encouraging me to work harder.”
“Did it?” Evie’s voice is hesitant.
“At first, yes. I worked my tail off trying to make him happy. Then I discovered boys. And I mean really discovered boys. Do you know what I discovered about them?”
Evie and Nora shake their heads, transfixed. Izzy listens with polite attention, fully aware of this part of my life.
“That they were nothing like my father. That they didn’t put me down after we kissed by telling me my technique could use some work. And I liked that feeling. Of course, my father hated the fact I became more focused on boys than school. Why should I care, though? No matter what I did, it wouldn’t be good enough, so why try?” I take a sip of my drink, needing the liquid encouragement to share this piece of myself with my two friends. “Despite it all, there’s still this part of me that wants to make him proud, to prove to him that I am good enough.”