“Ali, I—”
She interrupted him. “I couldn’t help but compare him to you. That’s why I brought up our first time. How you insisted that we get to know each other really well before we had sex. How you booked a hotel just down the road for our first time.” Her expression was wistful. “You always made me feel special, even before you told me you loved me.”
“You are special.”
She looked at him steadily.
“Do you think we could pick up where we left off?”
“No.”
She cringed.
He reached over to grasp her hand. “I still have feelings for you. But I’m not ready to jump into something right now. Even if I were, we can’t just pick up where we left off. We’re both different people.”
“You don’t seem that different.”
“I am. Trust me.”
Allison squeezed his hand. “I’ve never trusted anyone more. I was jealous of Julia. Of the way you said her name. Because that’s how you used to say my name. But I broke up with you and you fell for someone else. I would have kept my mouth shut if things worked out between you two. But they didn’t.”
Paul took another long pull from his beer and shook his head.
On January second, Paul had to leave for the Modern Language Association’s annual convention, which was being held in Seattle. All his interviews for prospective jobs would take place during the convention.
Allison drove him to the airport in Burlington. Before he exited the car, she gave him a small gift bag.
“It’s just some chocolate chip cookies I made. There might even be a book in there.”
Paul thanked her with a smile.
“What’s the book?”
“Sense and Sensibility.”
He looked at her quizzically. “Why are you giving me that?”
“I thought you might find it meaningful.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I think.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. Come here.”
He tugged her into a warm embrace.
By way of response, she pulled back slightly before pressing a gentle but insistent kiss to his lips. She was surprised but elated when he didn’t recoil but rather deepened their connection.
“I’ll be home soon,” he managed, when they finally pulled themselves apart.
She answered him with a hopeful grin, waving until he disappeared into the terminal.
Chapter Seventy-one
January 10, 2012
New York, New York
Christa Peterson breezed into the Department of Italian at Columbia University. She’d enjoyed a very pleasant winter break at her parents’ home in Toronto and had even met someone with whom she’d enjoyed a brief affair. Now she was eager to resume her studies and continue her journey toward becoming a Dante specialist.
With interest, she emptied her pigeonhole of all its mail, sitting on a chair nearby in order to peruse it. Much of the mail was junk, with the exception of a single typewritten announcement. Christa scanned it quickly.
The announcement listed the names of three senior Dante specialists who would be visiting the department over the course of the next two weeks, as candidates for the vacant professorship. Christa read the names twice before relaxing in her chair.
She smiled. But not because of the names listed.
No, she smiled because a particular name had not been listed. It would seem that her plan to revenge herself on Professor Giuseppe Pacciani was already bearing fruit.
With that delightful thought in mind, she pocketed the announcement, threw the junk mail into the wastepaper basket, and was preparing to exit the department when Professor Barini stopped her.
“Miss Peterson, I need to speak to you.”
“Of course.” Christa obediently followed the professor into her office.
Professor Barini left the door ajar before sitting behind her desk.
“I’d like to thank you for taking my advice about Professor Pacciani. I noticed that he didn’t make the short list.” Christa made no attempt to hide her exultation.
Lucia ignored the comment and retrieved a file, quickly leafing through its contents. Then she looked at Christa over the rims of her glasses. “You’ve run into a problem.”
“A problem? What kind of problem?”
“You’re supposed to choose three professors to sit on your oral examination committee, but I’ve been notified by the faculty that no one is willing to do so.”
“What?” Christa’s dark eyes grew wide.
“This has never happened before. As the chair, I cannot compel a faculty member to serve on your committee. And even if I could, I wouldn’t. Their lack of willingness to participate indicates that they don’t think you’ll perform to their satisfaction.”
Christa couldn’t quite believe her ears. It was unthinkable that every faculty member in the department would refuse to work with her. No one had given her even the slightest indication of that kind of antipathy.
(At least, to her face.)