To Professor, with Love (Forbidden Men #2)(93)

My jaw set. I couldn’t look away from my woman as she took a drink from a wineglass and smiled at something the douche across the table from her had just said. What did she think she was doing? That was the question.

“I’m going over there,” I told Ten. But he jerked me back, pissing me off something major.

“Are you nuts? If you go over there and create a scene like some kind of jealous ex-boyfriend, people are going to realize you’re actually a jealous ex-boyfriend. Do you want to get kicked off the team? Do you want her to lose her job?”

I snapped a hard glare at him. He lifted his brows, and I cursed under my breath. “Damn it.” Digging my phone out of my pocket, I did the next best thing. I called her.

I could tell the moment her end of the line started ringing. She went stiff and her date made a gesture, probably telling her it was okay if she answered. But she shook her head. I ground my teeth. When it went to voice mail, I growled. “I see you. I see who you’re with. And I don’t like it. How is being with an engaged man so much better than dating a student?”

After leaving that message, I instantly dialed her number again. This time, she apologized and leaned down to check the ID. When she saw it was from me, she set her phone back in her purse. I could read her lips as she told him it was no one important.

Acid ate through my stomach. “No one important, huh?” I snorted and had to glance away because it suddenly hurt too much to look at her. “You told him I was no one important? Thanks. Thanks a lot.” I hung up because I knew I would say something really awful next, and I didn’t want to say anything awful to Aspen. I just wanted her to get her head out of her ass and get away from that dick.

But, damn it, I couldn’t hold it in. I lit her phone the f*ck up with text after text, damn near harassing her—or maybe it was flat-out harassment. Hell, I didn’t know. I asked if she was going to f*ck him, if cheating on his fiancée with him made her feel better about herself than having a faithful, monogamous relationship with me, if she always got over men as easily as she’d gotten over me. I don’t know what all I said, I just couldn’t shut up until I saw her grab her purse and stumble to her feet, probably heading toward the bathroom.

Taking that as my cue to follow, I stepped off the curb again. But Ten, damn him, wasn’t about to let me get near that restaurant.

Growling at him until he gave me some breathing room, I paced the corner of the street, waiting until she made it to the bathroom, or wherever the hell she’d gone, and could reply to me.

But she didn’t reply.

Fed up, I dropped the big bomb. I wasn’t playing around anymore. Fingers shaking so hard I had to delete and retype the message three times before I pushed Send, I wrote, “Don’t do this. I love you, Aspen. Ditch him and come outside to me.”

Anxiety shuddered from my lungs. There. Now she knew. I’d just bared my soul to her and made myself as vulnerable as I’d ever been. Only a cold-hearted person would ignore this, and I knew Aspen. She was the furthest thing from cold-hearted as a person could get. She loved me back. She just had to stop listening to reason and propriety, and she’d realize that.

Another five minutes passed. When she appeared at the table where her date was still waiting, the breath rushed from my lungs. I fully expected her to give him her apologies and come running out to me. But she tucked the back of her skirt up to her legs like a proper lady and seated herself. And their date continued.

I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t blink. Everything inside me shattered. Swiping my hand over my mouth, I turned to my best friend.

His eyes were wide with, what...I didn’t know. Shock, fear, concern, worry. “Gam?”

“Fuck it,” I said. “Let’s get drunk.”

***

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” - J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

***

ASPEN



My head was pounding. As I let myself into my dark house, I kept the lights out and rested my back against the front door to catch my breath.

The night had gone exactly as I’d planned, which I hated. Philip had been eager to take me out when I’d called him. He hadn’t even had a problem with agreeing to meet there.

I’d asked him about his fiancée straight off, and he’d told me they’d split in February. Then he’d bought me some drinks, and we’d talked university politics until the phone calls and texts had started. I knew it was Noel immediately.

When Philip had told me it was okay to answer them, I’d waved him off, trying to appear as if it’d be rude to answer a call on a date. But then it became rude to ignore my phone because it kept going off and interrupting us. I don’t know what I was thinking; my brain obviously wasn’t screwed on right because I should’ve just turned the entire thing off. Except I’d never been able to do that because subconsciously I’d always been waiting for “the call” from my parents.

I’ll never know why I excused myself to go to the bathroom, either. But I did. And I read his texts. All of them.

It killed me to walk back to Philip.

As inconspicuously as possible, I found where Noel was outside, watching us, and thirty seconds after he dragged his friend off, I stood up, cancelling my date with Philip.

Drawing my phone out of my purse, I let the Prada drop to the ground as I opened the last message he’d sent me.