For the Record (Record #3)(37)
“I still would have wanted you to take me.” She took his hand in hers. “Dreams can change, anyway. My mentor is looking to get me into graduate programs’ late admittance. I’m going to apply to some online columnist positions. I’ll be okay.”
“I know plenty of people who could help.”
Liz cringed. “I was afraid you might say that.”
“Why do you look like that’s the worst thing I could say?”
“I know the business is who you know rather than what you know, but I want to make it on my own merit.”
“Liz,” he groaned. “I’ve destroyed your chance at the New York Times; you can at least oblige me the chance to help fix it.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you over the phone. I want to do this on my own, prove it to myself. Professor Mires encouraged me to take this in stride, and said that sometimes one closed door means another one opens. As much as I appreciate your help and know it’s coming from a good place, I want to open my own door.”
“Okay, but if doors remain closed, you’ll let me help?” he pleaded. “At least promise me that. I want to help.”
“All right. If nothing works out, then we’ll try it your way.”
She hoped that time would never come.
Chapter 13
MAKING AMENDS
Liz spent the next three weeks working away on her final term paper for her internship and managed to get it to Professor Mires on the Friday before spring break. She hoped it was everything that she expected of her, but turning in a first draft always made her anxious.
Professor Mires thumbed through the large document and nodded her head. “This looks great. I’ll read through it over spring break and get it back to you on Tuesday during class.”
“Sounds good. Thank you,” Liz said with a smile. “Have you heard anything from your graduate school contacts?”
“Ah, yes,” she said, standing and rifling through some paperwork. “Here are a list of places that you should apply. They’ll be looking out for your application. I would recommend including the project that you presented at the colloquium last spring as your writing sample. It was superb.”
Liz took the list and scanned it. Five places. Out of all the graduate programs she was down to five choices, and that was only if they accepted her late admittance. Missouri, Northwestern, Columbia, Maryland, and American University. At least two of them were in or near D.C.; that wasn’t terrible odds.
Brady flew her to D.C. for the week of spring break, since she didn’t have to be in New York City for her internship. As disappointed as she was about not working with the New York Times, it was a dream to spend an entire week with Brady. No interruptions. No rushed meetings. No secrets whatsoever. Just the two of them together every second they could be.
She got to see his office and meet the staff. Heather actually managed to act like a normal human being, even though it was clear that they were still on rocky ground. Elliott took her on a tour of the Rayburn building, where Brady’s office was located. Liz and Elliott joked and laughed while they wandered down the plethora of corridors.
She and Brady had lunch on the steps of the Capitol building. He took her to fancy restaurants and dive bars and rooftop parties. He took her on a tour of old cemeteries. She insisted on peeking in at Hayden’s sister, Jamie’s, latest artwork and sighed in relief when she wasn’t there. They snuggled in bed and watched bad movies over Chinese food. She fell asleep in his lap while he read on his iPad.
And they had sex. Lots of incredible sex. Nearly every morning and every night until her body was sore and satiated. If that was even possible with Brady Maxwell.
The next two months were a wonderful haze of Brady. They fell into an easy routine where every weekend he would fly down to Chapel Hill or she would fly up to D.C. Liz focused on her graduate school applications and the articles she was writing for fun on the side that she had submitted to a few online columns. She also started up regular tennis sessions with Easton. It made her feel better about having so much extra time and kept up her stamina, which she needed when it came to Brady.
Soon she was closing her booklet on her last final exam in her college career. She felt a little sentimental turning it in to her professor and walking out the doors. Campus was quiet. She had one of the last exams of the day, though there were still a few days left in the exam schedule.
This had been her home for the last four years, and it was surreal to think that she would be leaving it behind for . . . whatever was to come in the fall. She stared around at the brick buildings and beautiful landscapes with newfound appreciation. Everything was going to change.
She knew that before she left she had one more place she needed to go: the newspaper office. It was late enough in the afternoon that she hoped everyone would have cleared out by now.
Trekking across campus, she savored the short walk and then took the stairs up to the second floor of the Union. She glanced into the office and saw that it looked deserted. She breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the door open.
She wasn’t sure what had brought her here. She hadn’t set foot inside the office since clearing out her desk after Massey had requested her “temporary leave of absence.” She had barely set foot in the Union for fear of running into anyone from the paper. The only person she still kept in contact with was Savannah and on occasion Tristan, but they had been her A-team from the beginning.