“You taught high school before this? Ugh.” She brushed her shoulder-length brunette hair off her face. She was pretty. Emerald green eyes and a few freckles on her nose. She didn’t look old enough to teach anything, let alone community college.
“It wasn’t so bad,” he replied, grinning. Cadence’s naked body flashed in his brain, and he cleared his throat.
“Why’d you make the move then?” she asked.
He smiled patiently. “Needed a change.”
That conversation was absolutely hideous. He decided to be completely forthright with the dean and explain his entire situation with Cadence during the interview. He could have very well said that he didn’t want the dean to contact his former employer, but that would have sent up red flags. He believed he sealed his fate after that discussion, but the dean obviously didn’t care. He called him the next day to offer him the position. It may have helped that Mark told him he and Cadence were to be married the following year.
“Do you make it a habit of dating your students?” the dean asked.
“No, sir. This is the only time.”
“And what made her so special? More importantly, why would you take the risk? Why not wait until she graduated?”
Mark pushed a hand nervously through his hair. “I tried. I really did. But her loneliness. My loneliness. I just couldn’t.”
Dean Bertelli eyed him curiously. “Did you adjust her grades?”
“No.”
“Did you give her preferential treatment?”
“I helped her with homework. I tutored her. But I tutored other students, too.”
The dean sighed.
“And you’re marrying this girl?”
“I’ll be with Cadence for the rest of my life.”
Mark wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he saw a faint smile playing on the dean’s lips. Before exiting his office, Mark glimpsed a photo on the desk. It was the dean and his wife. And she looked significantly younger than him.
“What are you grinning about?” Drew asked, and Mark snapped his head up. She eyed him curiously, then grinned back. He didn’t like it.
“I’ve no idea,” he said quickly. “Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve gotta get going.” He hastily cleaned the board then walked with Drew to the door.
“No worries. I’ve got stuff to do. Just wanted to pop by and introduce myself. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
He hoped not. “Yep.”
He locked his door. She sauntered over to her room. She walked like that just for him, hoping he was watching. Tight-fitting pencil skirt. Heels. She was good. Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t interested.
He smiled thinking of the girl waiting for him at home. He could see her now: sprawled on the couch. One of her half-filled glasses of soda on the coffee table. Another on the end table. They drove him crazy, but at the moment he didn’t care. He’d have her just the way she was. Silly. Sweet. Messy.
Trusting.
“I believe you,” he heard her say that moment he knelt before her, ready to kiss her feet. Ready to do whatever she asked. Ready to love her unconditionally and forever.
He couldn’t stop at the grocery store. He had to go home. He had to look at her. Only for a few minutes. Then he’d go back out. But she was more important than mangoes and chili peppers. She was more important than anything else in his life, and he had to see her face—fill up on her—before he could continue with his day. He did this often, but she only caught him staring once. And she never said anything about it, like she knew why he had to do it. She simply smiled, inviting his continued gaze. She understood the need and gave it her silent blessing.
Mark strolled through the apartment observing the little messes here and there: clothes flung over the living room furniture. Stacks of unorganized papers on the floor and tables. Glasses with half-finished soda in random spots. He peeked into the bathroom and groaned. Toiletries. Everywhere. He’d forgotten about women’s toiletries, or maybe it was just that Andy kept hers organized and generally out of sight. Not Cadence. There were bottles all over the place, crowding the sink, stacked on top the toilet tank, lining the ledge of the garden tub.
“What the hell?” Mark said to himself. He rubbed his face then set to work clearing the countertop.
Cadence popped into the bathroom and scanned the sink.
“Where’s my brush?” she asked.
“I put it away.”
“Oh. Thanks. I was gonna do that,” she said, opening the top drawer. She searched around. “Where?”
“The other drawer,” Mark said, eyeing her.
She pushed the drawer in, and he caught it before it fully shut. He pulled it back out.
“Umm, those nail clippers belong in that basket. See? You moved them while you were looking for your brush.” He paused. “And you didn’t put them back.”
Cadence looked up at him. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. Seriously.”
She made a dramatic show of picking up the clippers and holding them up to his face before dropping them in the appropriate basket. “Better?”
“Almost,” Mark replied. Shouldn’t have given me an opening, he thought. “Where do these things go?” He waved his hand over her toiletries.
“Right where they are.”
“No. There’s not enough room for all these bottles on the sink.”