The Lie(92)

I groan inwardly, feeling all that hope dash away. Irving hates me and he doesn’t seem fond of Natasha either.

“Because you had a relationship of sorts with her before, we decided that you can be free to pursue a relationship with Miss Trudeau now,” she says and I don’t think I’ve ever exhaled so loud before. “Based on the following grounds: she is not to ever take any of your classes, nor can she interact with you at the school in anyway, that means going to your office, stopping by your class, department fundraisers or events, or any action that might give the wrong impression. What you do in your own spare time off campus is none of our business. She’s nearly thirty and you’re both consenting adults. But the moment any of those lines are crossed and this program’s reputation is on the line, we’re afraid you’re going to have to resign.”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” I tell her. Natasha is leaning forward in her seat, staring at me expectantly.

“I trust you Brigs,” she says. “You’re a good teacher and frankly you deserve a little good fortune.”

Ah. So that’s why I was given the exception. The pity vote. Well, I’ll f*cking take it.

“Thank you so much, Sarah,” I tell her graciously. “And tell that to Charles and Phillip, too.”

I hang up the phone and Natasha is already grinning at me, her eyebrows raised. “Well?”

“They discussed it with your beloved Professor Irving,” I tell her.

Her eyes go round. “Oh no,” she exclaims.

I shrug, smiling. “Well, I don’t know, I guess the old bastard likes you after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“They said I can keep my job.”

She nearly jumps out of her chair, clapping her hands together. “Are you serious? Brigs this is amazing! Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”

“Well, we have to pretend we don’t know each other when we’re at school,” I tell her. “Which means no more office dates like this. But I think we can make up for it when you move in with me.”

“What?”

“Come live with me,” I implore her. “Today. Tonight. Let’s get your stuff and get you the hell out of there.”

“Are you sure?” she asks though her eyes are already dancing with the thought.

“Natasha, you’re pregnant with my child,” I remind her, automatically smiling at the thought. It will never stop getting old, never stop feeling amazing. “And we’re free to be with each other outside of the school. There’s no one to fear. Unless Winter has any objections, you’re moving in with me.”

“Okay,” she says quietly, blinking at me in amazement. “Tonight?”

“Right f*cking now,” I tell her, getting up. “Come on, let’s go. You’re pretty much packed aren’t you?”

She nods. “And Melissa?”

My smile is probably wolfish. “I can’t wait to see the look on her face.”

We leave the school together, both of us anxious, excited, delirious. It’s all moving so fast and yet it doesn’t seem fast enough. I want her in my flat, I want to wake up to her every morning, I want to live with her shining beside me. The fact that we’ve just (narrowly) been granted freedom almost feels like we’ve been pardoned from jail and the way we rush through the streets together, touching, kissing, laughing just cements this.

But we aren’t out of the woods yet. When we get back to my flat – our flat – I have to fight against the urge to take her the moment we step inside. We still have something important to deal with and our nerves won’t rest until it’s put to bed.

Because the Aston Martin probably won’t make it across town and wouldn’t fit any of her stuff regardless, we have to hire a van. Luckily I’ve seen Max make plenty of deliveries to and from The Volunteer with his van, so we head across the street and see if he’ll do us this favor.

“For you,” Max says, tossing me the keys with a big smile, “anything. I’ll just add it to your tab.”

“Thanks, mate,” I tell him and soon I’m in the driver’s seat of an aging van from the 80’s, heading to Wembley with Natasha at my side.

It’s one hell of a nerve-wracking car ride.

Natasha is ringing her hands, biting her lip so hard I fear she’ll draw blood.

“Relax,” I tell her, placing my hand on her leg. “I’m here. With you all the way. You don’t even have to face her if you don’t want her, just stay in the van and I’ll take care of it.”

She shakes her head, exhaling noisily. “I won’t hide from her. Not anymore.”

We pull up to her building and her face falls when she sees the light on in her flat but to her credit, she gets out and we trudge up the stairs to her floor until we’re standing right outside her door.

“Are you ready?” I ask her.

“Nope,” she says, trying to smile. She sticks in her key, hopefully for the last time, and the door opens.

We step inside. The sound of the telly blaring comes from the living area.

“Natasha?” Melissa calls out from the room.

The two of us wait in the hallway, staying silent.

Finally Melissa walks out of the room and stops dead when she sees us.