Liv hesitates, indecision flashing across her expression. “I told you I wanted to be here with you the whole time.”
“I’ll only stay a week longer, then come home.” I try to think of another way to convince her. “Remember how sick you got on the plane? You don’t want to take an extra two trips. I won’t let you.”
Liv bites down on her lower lip. “Why don’t I stay here then?”
“Why should you stay here?”
“I can still help out while you’re gone,” she says. “I haven’t felt sick in the past few days, but you’re right, I don’t want to get on a plane more than I have to. If I stay here and we leave next weekend, I’ll be closer to my second trimester. By then, morning sickness is supposed to lessen quite a bit, so maybe the flight back won’t be so rough.”
“I don’t want you to stay here alone.” Frustration grips me. “Especially with Archer around.”
“I’m not worried about Archer.” A resolve seems to click inside her, born of that inner strength she sometimes forgets she has. She closes her book. “I’ll stay here, Dean. It will be fine.”
“I want you with me.”
“It’s only for two days. I can go with your mother to the hospital if necessary, still help out with cooking. Paige told me she’s going back to work tomorrow, so your mother would probably appreciate having someone around.”
She doesn’t look certain about that. I’m not either. Under normal circumstances I’d argue and insist that she come with me and stay in Mirror Lake.
But these are not normal circumstances. And if she does stay here, I’ll have two days to figure out how to explain this mess to her.
“I told Archer to stay away from you,” I say.
“He won’t bother me.”
“If he—”
“He won’t. I’m not scared of him.”
I don’t know what else to say.
“Hey.” A crease appears between Liv’s eyebrows. She tugs at my hand. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” I swallow hard. “I’m going to check on flights.”
She lets go of my hand. I feel her gaze on me as I head back to the house.
I can’t hide from her. I don’t want to. I do, however, need more information. I’ll tell her after the meeting. Couple of days, at most. When I know more about what the hell is going on.
I return to the library and check airline websites. I manage to find a seat on a two-stop flight that leaves early tomorrow morning. I purchase the ticket with a Tuesday return.
I pull up Frances’s email again and stare at it.
Maggie Hamilton could destroy my career and my reputation because I didn’t approve her goddamned thesis proposal.
Black thoughts crowd my brain. I could get fired, disgraced, blackballed, forced to pay exorbitant legal fees. A court case could drag on for months and be written up in the press, all during my wife’s pregnancy and the birth of my first child…
No way. No fucking way.
Rage swamps me, hard and fast. An explosion bursts behind my eyes. I slam a fist on the desk. Sweep my arm across the clutter. Paperweights, pencil holders, folders all spill to the floor. The lamp crashes and breaks, shattering green glass onto the carpet.
“Dean?”
Shit. Darkness edges my vision. I pull my gaze to the doorway. A woman is standing there.
Not Liv.
Helen.
I draw in a breath and try to settle my racing heart. She steps warily into the room, glancing at the cluttered mess.
“Are you all right?” She pauses halfway to the desk and gives me a faint smile. “I guess that’s a silly question.”
I bark out a laugh and sink back into the chair. I rest my head in my hands. Sexual harassment. This could be bad. Really bad.
“Is there anything I can do?” Helen asks.
“No.” I sit back and look at her.
She glances from me to the computer screen and back again. “Bad news?”
“You could say that.”
“Well.” She smooths her skirt over her hips and steps back. “Let me know if I can help.”
She’s almost to the door when I stop her. I don’t think. Can’t think too much, but if I don’t tell someone this will burn a hole in my brain. And Helen has been in academia as long as I have. She knows how the politics work.
“Helen.”
She turns.
“You ever been involved in a sexual harassment claim?”
Helen stares at me, her hand at her throat. “Oh, Dean.”
“Yeah.” I rest my head against the back of the chair. “Nothing formal.”
Yet.
Helen approaches the desk again. “What happened?”
“Student’s upset that I won’t approve her thesis proposal, so she’s threatening to say I sexually harassed her.” I look at her. “It’s not true.”
“I know that, Dean.” Helen leans her hip against the edge of the desk. “We had a rough time, but I never doubted your integrity.”
The black thoughts encroach again. Liv. My beautiful, pregnant wife…