by Karina Halle
“I know the rules about fraternizing with students,” she says slowly. “But do you? Do you make exceptions?”
“No,” I say, my jaw wiggling, trying to diffuse the tension. “Now I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask me that.”
“Why?” she asks, coming around the desk, stopping just a few inches away from me. “Do I make you nervous?”
I keep my head raised high. “Frankly, Melissa, you make me very uncomfortable.”
She tilts her head, appraising me with a smirk. “Because I turn you on, that’s why.”
Jesus, she’s crazy.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. I make you uncomfortable because you want me, plain and simple. I don’t blame you. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. And I definitely won’t tell anyone.”
“Melissa, if you don’t leave, I’m going to have to bring this up with the university,” I tell her, trying to supress the anger that’s starting to flare up. “It goes both ways. Hitting on a teacher is just as frowned upon as the other way around.”
The smirk begins to fade. Her eyes narrow. “You would actually report me? Just for talking to you?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “Because this isn’t just talking and you know it. I’m going to pretend I don’t know what the bloody hell you’re offering, but between you and me, I don’t fucking want it.”
Her head jerks back like she’s been slapped. I don’t feel bad, but as I see the scorn churning in her eyes, I’m starting to regret being so harsh. She’s not the type to take rejection lightly, I can see that now.
“What did you say to me?” she whispers.
“I said, get the fuck out.” I point to the door. “And the next time you want to speak to me, I’m making sure we aren’t alone. And if we are alone, I’m making sure to record it. Do you understand? I don’t know what fucking game you are playing here with me, but it ends here and now. I’m not interested in you and I wouldn’t be even if you weren’t my student. Once you accept that, the easier this semester will be.”
She glares at me. “You’re a right prick you know that? Fucking wanker.”
“I’ve been called worse by people more important than you.” I jerk my head to the door and bring out my phone. “And I have no problems hitting the record button right now if you truly wish to make this more difficult than it is.”
She sucks in her breath through her teeth, seeming to simmer, then shakes her head. “You’ll regret this.”
I give her a sour smile. “No. Don’t talk to me about regret. You don’t know shit. Now, go.”
She blinks at me in some sort of raging shock before she whips around and storms out of the room. I exhale loudly, trying to gather strength and clarity into my lungs and head.
I need to talk to Natasha about her, I just don’t know how to bring it up. I don’t know what problems it’s going to create for her, and the last thing I want is for her to get kicked out. Melissa is in charge of the flat, and if Natasha were to ever tell her something, Melissa’s jealousy would rage and Natasha would be gone. She couldn’t live with me, not long-term anyway, while I still have a job. I take my chances with dating Natasha in secret, but living together is another risk entirely.
The best I can do is just encourage her to move out on her own at some point, without telling her exactly what Melissa is like. Melissa knows the kind of hell the both of us had to go through. No real friend would then blatantly go after another’s man like that, whether things had ended badly or not.
As the rest of the week goes by though, I find myself unable to bring it up with her, even though the sneaking around is starting to feel tiresome instead of exciting. When we go out to dinner together or to the pub or the movies, when we’re just strolling around the city, we try and pretend we are strictly platonic. London is a huge city but a small world all the same. Even though we both mess up from time to time, holding hands and stealing kisses in public, we’re both always so aware that someone could see us. And no, she’s not my student, but it’s still a risk.
That’s why when Friday rolls around, I’m borderline ecstatic. I’m taking her up to Edinburgh to meet the family, a place where we don’t have to be a secret, at least not in the present. I’m also nervous, anxious, and a whole slew of other things that has my heartrate a few notches above normal.
Natasha comes to my flat after her classes, just in time to see Shelly the dog walker take Winter out. She’ll be watching him in the flat while I’m gone, but the fuzzy bugger tends to panic whenever I pack up and leave. This way he just thinks he’s going for a walk and that I’ll be here when he returns, though I swear he gives me the stink-eye when he goes out the door.
Natasha is pacing through the drawing room, wringing her hands and gnawing on her lip.
“Are you a bundle of nerves too?” I ask her, amused to see her like this.
“Of course!” she exclaims. “I’m meeting your fucking parents. And your brother. I’ve only heard about them all a million times.”
“Then you know by now that they’re lovely people,” I tell her, putting my arms around her waist and smiling down at her. “They’ll love you.”
“But they don’t know me,” she says. “They don’t know the real us.”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “I know. But they can’t.”
“They have to,” she says, and I open my eyes to see hers searching me in a wild dance. “Don’t you see? It’s not just meeting the family. It’s about living a lie.”
“We aren’t living a lie anymore.”
“Then what do we say?” she asks. “When they ask us how we met?”
“I told you. We stay vague. I met you years ago when you were working the short film festival in Edinburgh. That first day we met? That’s all true. That’s what we keep as our truth.”
“And then what?” she says, breaking away and walking to the window. “I…” She exhales heavily and looks down at her hands. “I’m not going anywhere, Brigs. This is just the beginning now. But in a few years? Then what? The truth—the whole truth—will come out.”
“Then we’ll deal with it then,” I tell her. “They don’t need to know everything, and certainly not all at once.”
She glances at me, worried. “You’re afraid to tell them. Why?”
“Because,” I tell her.
“You’re ashamed,” she says softly.
“No. Not of you. Not of this. Just…” I throw my hands out to the side. “You know how complicated this all is.”
“But your family is lovely, you said yourself. Your brother sounds like he has more issues than Charlie Sheen. Don’t you think they would all understand the truth? They wouldn’t blame you. It might even explain a lot to them.”
I rub my hand up and down my face in frustration. “When the time is right. This…I just want them to see you the way I see you. The way everyone should.”
“You mean not as the other woman.”
“You know what I mean,” I tell her quickly, coming over to her and taking her hand. “There is no other woman. There never was. It was only you. And I want them to see only you. Please. Just this once. We’ll figure out the future later.”
She nods. “Okay.”
I kiss the back of her hand. “Thank you.”
“I just hate lying. I could tell Melissa didn’t believe me when I told her I was going away.”
I stiffen. It’s suddenly hard to swallow.
“What?” I manage to get out.
She shrugs. “Well, I can’t tell her I’m going off with you. Like I told you before, she’s protective and she doesn’t like you. So I said I was going up to Glasgow with imaginary Bradley. Imaginary Bradley sure is getting a lot of action these days.” She glances at me. “You okay?”
I nod quickly, blinking. “Yes, sorry. I can imagine lying isn’t easy. Why can’t you tell her the truth again?”
“I guess because of the same reason you don’t want to tell your family. I don’t think she’d understand. And
she wouldn’t believe any of it. She holds a grudge against you like you wouldn’t believe, and that grudge goes against me too.”
“I believe it,” I tell her, wondering if now is the moment. But then again, what do I say? Hey, by the way, your best friend has also been both hitting on me and threatening me in her spare time?
“Maybe she’ll be more understanding than you think,” I say. “She knows we’re both adults here.”
She shakes her head, wincing. “She’s a weird one. She doesn’t work like that. I’m afraid it would do more harm than good.” She gives my hand a squeeze. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Is it time to get the train?”
I nod. “We better get out of here before Winter comes back and loses his mind. My shoes won’t stand a chance.”
***
The train up to Edinburgh is long but I’ve never minded it. There’s something inherently romantic about watching the landscape fly past you. Your mind goes with it, latching on to new thoughts with the new sights. It’s an idea generator, a brainstormer, a place to let your thoughts fly away. In some ways it’s even better than the Aston Martin (which bit the dust again after our escape to Botany Bay, hence the train ride), because now I can relax and watch the world go by.
I especially don’t mind it now with Natasha at my side. Our seats are in first class and the car is relatively empty. We’re able to sit beside each other, her hand in mine, my fingertips tracing circles over her skin. We kiss and laugh and share coy smiles, and it’s like we’re finally free to just be us.
It feels good to be home too. London is growing on me, but Edinburgh will always be home, my true love, no matter how many bad memories are locked here. Stepping off the train at Waverly Station and hearing the Scottish accent everywhere makes me feel like another weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
That said, when we call for a cab to take us to my parents’ house, a few jitters sneak back in my heart.
It does feel wrong to have to hide the truth from my family. And I won’t lie if it comes down to it. But I want Natasha to be judged for who she is and not her past. My parents are as accepting as they come, as are Lachlan and Kayla, but even then if they knew who she really was to me, they’d look at her differently.
Nobody likes the “other woman.” No one wants to relate to her, to empathize with her. No one likes a philandering man either, but when it comes down to it, I am their son and they’ve seen me suffer—they’ve seen my guilt and grief. I wouldn’t walk away from any confession without some form of condemnation from them, but Natasha is the one who would really be burned. They don’t know her. They don’t know what she’s been through. They don’t know how she feels about me. I want them to see all of that first before the truth comes out.
I’m protecting her, plain and simple. Protecting us, this fragile, beautiful thing we have growing between us, that gorgeous freefall I couldn’t bear to have end for any reason.
“This is it,” I tell her as the cab pulls up in front of the house.
“This is so cute,” she coos, staring out the window with wide eyes at the house, the iron gate and stone wall, the overflowing squash and kale in the gardens.
We grab our bags and the cabbie speeds off just as my mother flings open the door.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were already here? I could have picked you up!” she exclaims with wide eyes, sounding both angry and excited.
“I didn’t want to trouble you,” I tell her, putting my hand at the small of Natasha’s back and ushering her in through the gate.
“Brigs, you know you’re no trouble at all,” she says, pressing her hands together as she smiles broadly at Natasha. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t have met you at the train. My son has an awful habit of being so secretive about things.”
Natasha and I quickly exchange a glance. “It’s no worry at all,” she says smoothly. “It’s very nice to meet you. You have a lovely home. And a lovely son.”
Now my mother is positively beaming at me. “Isn’t she darling?” she asks. “Natasha. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
“What is this, another one?” my dad says, leaning against the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets. “First Lachlan brings home a pretty gal and now our other son does. We’re going to be the most popular house on the street.”
“Don’t mind my father,” I tell Natasha. “I take after him. See those glasses? He’s a nerd at heart who never quite figured out why a woman like my mother took any interest in him.”
“Hey,” my mother admonishes, walking back up the path to the steps and eyeing me over her shoulder. “A smart woman knows a good catch when she sees one. Seems Natasha is just as smart as the rest of us.”
We go inside the house and my father runs our bags up to my old bedroom until we figure out later who is sleeping where.
“Lachlan and Kayla will be here in an hour,” she says. “They’re doing a fundraiser at the shelter today. A car wash.”
“I’ve heard a lot about Ruff Love,” Natasha says as she takes a seat on the couch and my mother starts pouring everyone tea and getting out the ubiquitous shortbread cookies.
“Well, they’re definitely influential enough to get Brigs to adopt a dog. How is Winter doing anyway?” my mother asks me as she sits down.
I shrug. “Sheds everywhere. Shits everywhere. Nothing’s changed.”
She shakes her head, unimpressed.
“You want the truth?” Natasha asks her, leaning forward in a conspiratorial voice. “He’s in love with that dog. Treats him like a baby.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” I exclaim. “I do not.”
“You do,” she says, eyes sparkling. “You can’t see it because you’re in it, but you dote on that dog like nothing else.” She looks back to my mother. “When I’m not over, the dog sleeps with Brigs, in bed, under the covers.”
My mother lets out a laugh, obviously loving this. “Is that true?”
“My flat is very drafty,” I explain, busying myself with the tea.
“And he hires this woman to walk him that fusses over him just as much. I’m pretty sure she carries a row of sausages in her purse, just like an old cartoon. Believe me, Brigs may act like he hates that dog, but Winter is spoiled like you wouldn’t believe.”
“What’s this?” My father comes in the room, sitting beside my mother.
“Nothing,” I say quickly.
“Oh, Donald, it turns out Brigs is just as bad with Winter as Lachlan is with Lionel,” she says.
“Another nut,” he mutters under his breath.
Thankfully the conversation quickly changes to all things Natasha. With her accent and her life in LA, France, and London, it’s a pretty easy segue, an even better icebreaker than “Where did you guys meet?” I was pretty vague with my mother on the phone when I called to tell her that I had met someone and wanted to bring her up to Edinburgh.
While Natasha talks about LA and film and Hollywood, I can’t help but watch her with pride. Just the way she handles herself, she’s so different from the girl I met last month, the one with fear in her eyes and the weight of the world on her shoulders. She’s charming my parents just as she charms everyone, that glow of hers making everyone around her shine. If she’s nervous at all, she doesn’t show it, and when she’s tired of talking, she deftly turns the conversation to my parents, asking a load of questions.
Before I know it, the door opens and I turn in my seat to see Lachlan and Kayla stepping in.
“You made it,” my mother calls out, getting up and going over to them. She takes off their jackets as she hangs them up.
“Brigs,” Lachlan says with a nod, his eyes immediately seeking out Natasha. Kayla does the same.
“Lachlan, Kayla,” I say to them, gesturing toward Natasha who I can tell is nervous, sitting stiffly. “This is Natasha. Natasha, this is my brother Lachlan and his fiancé Kayla.”
Natasha gets up and shakes Lachlan’s hand first, smiling genuinely at him.
“Nice to mee
t you,” she says, though there’s a flicker of recognition in her eyes. I guess she’s recognizing his face from all those rugby calendars. When she moves on to shake Kayla’s hand though, who immediately brightens when she hears her American accent and compliments Natasha on her orchid pink blouse, Lachlan is watching Natasha curiously. What I saw in her was just a flicker, but Lachlan is studying her with a full-on frown, as if they’ve met before.
Then again, Lachlan looks at everyone that way.
“So you’re American,” Kayla says excitedly. “I had no idea.”
“Well, Brigs hasn’t really told us much about you,” Lachlan says, an edge to his voice. He glances at me, frowning, and I just shrug, not really sure what he’s getting at.
“That’s true.” Natasha clears her throat. “I’m a bit too awkward to be shown around in public.” She adds a dry laugh, trying to make everyone feel comfortable.
“Are you just going to stand there or what?” my dad says. “Sit down before your mother starts rearranging furniture to suit you.”
Lachlan and Kayla take the other couch while my mum starts pouring them some tea. Lachlan, though, is still watching Natasha with a peculiar look on his face.
“What is it?” I ask him, getting annoyed.
Everyone looks at us.
Lachlan raises his brow. “Nothing, I’m sure.” He nods at Natasha. “Have we met before?”
She frowns, thinking. “I don’t think so.”
“Ever been to Scotland before?” Kayla asks her. “I haven’t even been down to London yet.”
“Well, if Brigs invited us,” my mum adds, “I’m sure we could all go.”
I give her a placating smile. “When my life settles down a bit, I’ll make sure everyone comes by.”
Natasha looks back to Kayla. “Uh, actually, I met Brigs in Edinburgh. A long time ago.”
“How long have you been in the UK?” Kayla asks, which then gets Natasha explaining about her past yet again. But the way she talks with Kayla, I can tell it’s not a chore. In fact, with some silly pride, I can tell that the two of them will soon be fast friends. Both of those American girls swept away by the McGregor men. They have a lot more in common than they think, not to mention their easygoing, witty and slightly quirky personalities.