by Lia Lee
“Hey! What’s our little hippy up to these days?” her stepfather Steve asked as he went to get another beer from the fridge.
“Just grinding out her senior year,” Martha said. “I think you’re working too hard, sweetie. You look tired.”
“I have a lot of professional opportunities right now.” Haze pulled out the sliced eggplant from the fridge and took it to the sink to rinse. “I have to work hard if I want the last few years to pay off.”
“That’s the spirit, kiddo.” Steve reached over and mussed her hair. “You know, if you ever need something to get by, there will always be a spot at the office for you.”
“I appreciate it, Steve, but I’m not really interested in the insurance game.”
“No, just in the businesses-that-don’t-make-money game.” Steve laughed at his own joke.
Hazel flattened her expression. “Yep. That’s me.”
Martha shook her head as she put together the yams. “You should at least make the time to date a little, Hazel. I know you’re into politics and everything, but college is the time for you to be looking for someone to spend your life with.”
That stung. Even if those two thoughts didn’t have anything to do with one another, her mother would always connect her life failures to her choice in major. And, unfortunately, she couldn’t just tell them that she had been sleeping with her professor for the better part of two months. “Okay, you know it isn’t the 1950s, right? I’m not getting a Mrs. Degree.”
“Don’t get snitty with me.”
“I’m just saying… women don’t have to meet their husband in college.” Hazel sprinkled her herb mixture in with the vegetables and olive oil and started to stir. “You met Dad in college, though, and that worked out just awesome.”
Steve snorted.
“If I hadn’t met a husband in college, the world wouldn’t have been blessed with your miraculous self,” Martha said.
“Yeah, that would be a huge loss.” Steve laughed again and kissed Martha on the cheek. “Don’t clog up the oven with that rabbit food. We gotta get the turkey in there.”
“Don’t worry. Rabbit food cooks faster than bird corpses,” Hazel drawled.
“Oh, don’t be vulgar,” Martha said.
Hazel rolled her eyes and arranged the vegetables on the roasting pan.
***
Hazel didn’t think she was going to make it through dinner. The smell of the turkey was more overwhelming than she remembered. Plus, it was a little overcooked because her mother always got distracted by watching football with the boys. Hazel tried to close off her nasal passages by force of will but only succeeded in forgetting to breathe. She got up and excused herself from the table.
No one noticed.
Hazel went into the bathroom and shut the door. After splashing water on her face a few times, she put the lid down on the toilet and sat on top of it. She pulled out her phone and sent a message to Ian.
Should have taken you up on Chinese food Thanksgiving. How is it?
She stared at her phone, hoping against hope that he would get back to her. It was pathetic, being so dependent on this guy she couldn’t even call her boyfriend, but she couldn’t help it. They saw one another almost every day. They worked together. She was halfway through writing his book. He’d even expanded his company’s charitable contributions just to keep her around.
Even so, they had never talked about where things were going. Beyond fun. Beyond sex. After New York, which had been wall-to-wall sex and expensive outings (with a couple of business meetings attached), Ian had made a point to find places to take her whenever possible—day trips to nature preserves, nights out dancing, tickets to the symphony. Hazel spent more time with Ian than anyone else, but she still couldn’t bring herself to ask him where all of this was going. The longer it went on, the longer she worried that he was just having a nice fling with his student, and it would be over once the semester ended, or he grew bored.
Her phone buzzed, and Hazel looked at it hopefully. It wasn’t Ian though. It was the Period-Tracker app giving her a message that she should have started today. Hazel frowned. Usually, the app was dead-on. Maybe she would start later that day.
She sighed and washed her hands, looking at herself in the mirror. She did look a little tired. No doubt being home had something to do with that.
When she opened the door, Hawk was standing outside with his arms crossed.
“Sorry, did you need to go?”
“No. I just wondered where you disappeared to. It seems like Steve is bothering you more than usual.”
“I think I’m just hormonal. Or maybe he is more irritating. Or maybe I just wish Dad still came for holidays.”
Hawk shrugged. “Well, he’s got his new family. I think he gave up on us after Steve knocked Mom up.”
“He could at least call,” she pointed out.
“He could, but that would revoke his position as abandoning father.” Hawk launched himself from the wall. “We can escape to my room after dinner—get away from them for a while. Plus, my room smells more like Gain than turkey.”
“That sounds nice. I was going to try to cut out early, but I’ll stick around if you want to play video games.”
“Always.”
***
It was a bit late when Ian heard the doorbell. He went to the intercom and asked Dave the doorman who it was, then instructed him to send Hazel up. In truth, he barely counted this as a holiday, and so had been in his study for the bulk of the day, making notes over Hazel’s latest draft.
The elevator opened on a sweater enveloped Hazel, whose eyes were a little red and her eye makeup smudged. Ian wrapped his arms around her and kissed her head.
“Darling, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Holidays are just hard.”
“Alright, then.” Ian rubbed his hands over her shoulders and guided her to the sofa. “Maybe you need a holiday from your holiday, then. We could go somewhere. I do have the jet.”
“No, I don’t want to go anywhere.” Hazel snuggled up against his side. She looked a bit pale, in addition to everything. That sweater seemed to swallow her, but the leggings underneath probably didn’t provide much warmth.
“How about I get you a glass of wine?” he offered.
“No. Um, thanks, though.” Hazel bit her lip. “I could go for some mint tea, if you have any.”
“As you wish.” Ian kissed her cheek lightly and went to the kitchen. There, he put the kettle on and snuck glances back at Hazel. She seemed tired, but that was no surprise. He often thought that her vegan diet, as rushed and unplanned as it was as a student, didn’t offer her enough protein to get through the day, let alone a full class load and three jobs. He returned with two steaming mugs of tea (though his was caffeinated), and a plate of cherry-oat bars with almond butter that his shopper had picked up from the store from the vague list item “high protein vegan snacks.”
“I could turn on the television,” Ian suggested. He reclined beside her and offered an oat bar, but she shook her head. She was clearly nervous about something. She hadn’t looked like this around him in some time. “We could just space out for a little bit? Get your mind off of whatever happened with your family?”
“Do you have issues with your family? I guess they don’t do Thanksgiving in the UK.”
“No, but we do have such wholesome holidays as Guy Fawkes day, whereupon we celebrate setting fire to traitors.”
Hazel raised both brows as she stared up at him. “I had no idea Britain was so intense.”
“We did try to take over the world for a time.” Ian combed his fingers through her hair. “My family has always gotten on okay. Mum is still around. I do miss my father, but again, he did mentor me in his business. Did I ever tell you how the company got its name? Cartwright & Benton?”
Hazel wrapped her fingers around the hot mug and blew on her tea. “No.”
“Benton was my mum’s maiden name. My father considered her a partner.”<
br />
“Oh. That’s really sweet. Kind of romantic.”
“Trust that you would find a business arrangement romantic.”
“I just think if you’re going to be with someone, you should respect them.” Hazel heaved a heavy sigh.
Ian licked his lips as he considered that. “Do you think I don’t respect you?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“I wouldn’t let someone co-write a book with me if I didn’t respect their work,” Ian said. Where did these anxieties come from, he wondered. He thought back to their first night, when she’d been nearly moved to tears that he thought highly of her.
“My work yes, but…” Hazel shifted so she could look at him more directly. “What are we? I mean, are we a couple? Are you my boyfriend? That sounds so weird to call you that.”
“Do we really need to put a label on this? Aren’t you having a good time?”
Hazel seemed to pale even further. “I am, but it feels wrong to be doing this with someone for as long as we have without trying to define what we have at least a little. I’m not asking for a ring or anything. I just want to know if we’re going somewhere.”
Ian sighed and took her hand. “You know we can’t be open as a couple.”
“Does that mean we are a couple? I’m sorry, I know it’s not ‘cool’ to need to know these things.”
Ian lifted her chin and kissed her lips. “I don’t want our relationship to ever hurt you. I can use my influence to keep things under wraps for now. We can worry about all of this later.”
A little wrinkle appeared above Hazel’s brow. Her annoyance tightened her jaw and pursed her lips.
“We could date officially, then, once the semester is over? Once you’re technically not my teacher, and we’re just two people working on a book together. Theoretically, we could,” she pressed.
“In theory, yes.” Ian moved his arm around her waist and kissed her again. This time, she kissed back.
He knew he was being vague about their relationship, but it was necessary. Even if he didn’t care about the job at the university, the scandal that would come from him dating a student might be enough to disrupt his business substantially. And it would definitely be bad for Hazel’s career.
If he’d been able to resist starting this with Hazel, as young as she was and looking up to him as a mentor, he would have. But it had been impossible—looking into her stormy gray eyes, being close to her lovely, willowy frame, listening to her impassioned words—not to want her. Not to touch her. He had to have her. Now that he did, however, he was afraid he would lose her in trying to protect her.
On top of that, he had to admit to himself that after two failed marriages and all of his dalliances, he was hesitant to make their relationship official. If what they had together became something tangible and definable, it could be taken away. They could break up. It could crush Hazel. No, Ian needed for this thing between them to remain flexible and free, just for a little bit longer.
If Hazel could stand it, they had the time to enjoy themselves and each other. They could worry about the future when it came.
Chapter Ten
With the end of the semester upon them, and Hazel burdened with her classes along with writing a book and taking point on the new philanthropic division of Cartwright & Benton, she came to the decision that, in spite of everything, she couldn’t have it all. She cut back on her hours at the grocery store and made some excuses to spend less time in the office with Ian. It killed her but, at the moment, she was too overwhelmed, and conflicted, to spend too much time with him.
After telling him that she loved him, she had hoped that he would eventually return the sentiment. She’d even given him opportunities to say it, but whenever she brought up their relationship, Ian grew brisk and vague. Her only way of making sense of it was that he enjoyed her company, and her work, and the sex, but he did not love her.
Daily, Hazel felt nerves prickling along her skin and a lump in her throat. While Hazel hadn’t taken an official test yet, she was now three weeks late, constantly nauseous and fatigued, and had cried the other day when the strap on her messenger bag broke. Granted, that could have been any student dealing with finals, but he knew herself and knew the difference. She couldn’t put off dealing with this for much longer. It was just too much right now.
Dragging her books around in her duffle bag, since she hadn’t had time to go out and get a new one, Hazel slid into a booth seat where Natalie was waiting for her. Mid-finals lunch bitch session. Hazel sighed with her whole body. Natalie had already ordered, and before her sat a humongous hamburger with a mountain of fries. Hazel expected the scent to nauseate her. Instead, her stomach growled loudly.
“Ha. Time to eat something. Too bad they’ve only got salads here,” Natalie teased.
“Oh, shut up. I’ll find something. I always do.” Hazel grabbed a menu and looked over it halfheartedly. The Peach Grill oddly only offered grilled peaches on ice cream. Their chef wasn’t big on fruits and vegetables in general.
“Or, you could try some of this burger the size of my head.” Natalie cut her burger in half with a steak knife and then proceeded to dance the burger closer and closer to Hazel’s face.
Hazel wanted to smack her. She also wanted to throw up, cry, and maybe eat Natalie’s hand. She leaned forward, intending to push the burger away… and took a huge bite.
Natalie stopped laughing as Hazel grabbed the burger from her and chewed guiltily.
“Whoa. I was just kidding. I didn’t want to push you to give up your values.”
“Shut up for once, Nat. You’re such a jerk about this.” Hazel put the burger down. “Is that cheese on there?”
“Um…”
“Crap.” Hazel shot up and darted for the bathroom.
It was almost ironic how she’d fought for the better part of two weeks not to throw up and had to force herself to do so now. It was either this, though, or being even sicker for the next few days, with a bonus rash. When she came out of the stall, Natalie was waiting there with a wet paper towel. Hazel glared at her as she wiped her mouth and went to the sink for some water.
“Hey, I didn’t make you eat it,” Natalie objected.
“You have all the empathy of a mollusk. Has anyone ever told you that?” Hazel leaned over the sink and groaned. Her new joy of the past two days had been cramping in her lower abdomen. She half-hoped it was her period showing up very late. She knew it wasn’t though.
“Are you actually sick? I didn’t think that thing about vegans getting sick if they ate meat was true.”
“Oh, it isn’t. I mean, it’s harder to digest at first, but we’re built to eat it, so your stomach enzymes bounce back pretty fast.” Hazel wanted to sit, but one look at the floor told her to just lean back against the wall. “It’s not the burger, Nat.”
“Do you have the flu or something?”
“No. I’m, um.” Hazel closed her eyes. “I think I’m pregnant.”
Hazel would’ve laughed if she didn’t feel like she wanted to die. Natalie’s eyes were bugging out so hard, like the idea of Miss Save the World getting herself knocked up was beyond human imagining.
“How?”
“The usual way,” Hazel drawled. “I think a condom must’ve broken. Or something. They say condoms are only effective ninety-eight percent of the time, so if you have sex a hundred times…”
That broke Natalie out of her shock. “Oh, stop it! You’d have a lethal UTI if you were having that much sex. And I would’ve seen the guy.”
“You wouldn’t. I never brought him to the apartment.”
Natalie put her hand on her hip and shook her head. “God, Haze, I think I’m proud of you.”
“You’re the worst.” Hazel headed for the door.
“No, wait. What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to let myself think about it yet. And I haven’t told him, although with all of his ‘let’s just enjoy this’ talk, I’m pretty
sure what his reaction is going to be.” Hazel threw her hands in the air. “How did I let this happen? Why did I do this to myself? I’m supposed to know better than this!”
Natalie rolled her eyes. “Look, I know you know better. The whole campus knows you know better. You’re smart, but you’re not a robot. You’re allowed to have feelings.”
“I wish I could manage to have feelings for a guy who could want a future with me.” Hazel felt tears stinging her eyes and moved her hand to cover her face.
Natalie took her hands. “Haze, you are not the only girl on the planet with daddy issues, okay? There are lots of girls, and guys, who are attracted to people who can’t love them back. But if you haven’t talked to him, if you haven’t really tried, then how do you know what he’ll say? Some guys are different when it comes to children.”
“So, what, trap him into a relationship with me because I can’t take hormonal birth control as a backup? That’s also not the kind of woman I want to be.”
“Stop being mean to yourself. That’s your mother’s job.”
Hazel couldn’t help it. She laughed.
“Okay,” Natalie continued. “How about we go out there, order something you can eat, and you let yourself off the hook if you need a protein boost via some meat? You look like you could use it, and one burger in the face of a lifetime of veganism isn’t going to send you to hell.”
“Alright,” Hazel said weakly.
“Then, when your blood sugar is stable, we can decide what to do with Mr. Commitment Problems.”
Hazel nodded and returned to the table with her. “It’s a little more complicated than that though. It isn’t that he just doesn’t want to commit, it’s that if he does, we could both get into trouble.”