“You need to let the process play out.”
“Bullshit. Her father will take me down, no matter what. You know it as well as I do. Now that he knows about Liv, for God’s sake… I have no defense.”
Which means all I can hope for is that Maggie will withdraw the accusation. And I have no idea what it would take for her to do that.
“Will the administration make a deal?” I ask Frances.
“No. That would look worse for them than having a professor accused of sexual harassment.”
“Then what needs to happen?”
“When the OJA finishes their investigation, they’ll determine if they have enough evidence to pursue the case. If they don’t, they’ll dismiss the charge.”
“Which will never happen with Edward Hamilton breathing down their necks and considering a goddamned donation to the university. So I’m found guilty of something I didn’t do and am fired from my job. Maggie returns to King’s, gets her degree, then goes off to law school with her father’s money.”
Frances doesn’t respond.
I am so screwed. I can’t see any way out of this, except to quit before things get really bad. I’ll liquidate all my assets and leave the country. Take my wife to live on a remote island with white-sand beaches and sapphire seas.
Right as she’s launching a new business venture. Right when she’s finally found something that she wants to do.
I grab my coat. Fight the rage and fear scorching my insides.
If Edward Hamilton gets anywhere near my wife…
“I’m sorry, Dean,” Frances says.
I can only shake my head. I leave the office, pulling in a few breaths of cold air. The streets are almost dark, puddles of yellowish light pooling from the streetlamps.
I walk through downtown fast, trying to force away the sickening realization that I’m stuck in quicksand with no way out.
And now I’m dragging Liv down with me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Olivia
y mother is making herself comfortable in the apartment. Her lacy bras and panties are hung up in the bathroom to dry, and a beauty case rests on the counter. Long strands of blond hair weave through the bristles of my brush.
I yank them out with a comb and toss them in the trash before dragging the brush through my own hair. I peer at myself in the mirror, pinching my cheeks to add color to them. I put on a green sheath dress and low heels, grab my purse, and go into the living room.
Crystal’s suitcase is open and overflowing with soft, pretty clothes. She’d told me she was going out for dinner—in the parlance of my childhood, that also meant “I’m going to find a club, maybe a man”—and I’m glad I don’t have to explain my own plans for the evening.
I stop at an Italian restaurant and get some takeout before going to the Wildwood Inn. The instant Dean opens the cottage door, my heart plummets. Tension coils through him like wire, and his expression is set with a combination of anger and frustration that sears me through the soul.
I attempt a smile and hold up the paper bag.
“Takeout manicotti and salad. Our second-date dinner.”
Dean takes the bag from me and sets up the containers on the table, though I’m not hungry. He doesn’t move to sit down and eat either. My skin prickles with foreboding. A longing to return to our private weekend hits me in the chest so hard that I almost can’t breathe.
Dean turns to face me. Restrained energy vibrates from him, his innate urge to do something stifled by the dictate that he can’t do anything.
“Is your mother gone?” he asks.
I shake my head. A current ripples between us. Dean narrows his gaze.
“What?” he asks.
“Don’t be mad.”
“Oh, shit, Liv… what?”
I take a breath. “I offered to let her stay with me.”
He stares at me. I approach and put my trembling hand on his chest. His heart is racing.
“Dean, I know it doesn’t make sense to you, that you won’t understand, but—”
“Why, because I’m such a caveman?” He shoves my hand away and stalks to the other side of the room. “What won’t I understand, Liv? That your mother is poison? That she hurt you? That you’ve spent your life struggling with everything you went through?”
“That I asked her to stay with me so that she won’t poison my life any more than she already has.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“If she didn’t stay with me, she’d end up at Max Lyons’s house.”
He blinks in disbelief. “When did Max Lyons become part of this?”
“He was at the café this morning. I know my mother, Dean. I know she’d end up with him.”
“So let her. Why does it matter to you?”
“I don’t want her getting involved with Allie’s father. I know it sounds strange, but I don’t want her insinuating her way into my circle of friends.”
His mouth compresses. “You’re right. I don’t get it.”
“I have a life that’s mine, not hers. I don’t want her to be part of it. And I don’t expect her to stay much longer anyway. She never stays in one place very long.”