Because she still couldn’t wrap her brain around the simple fact that she felt betrayed by the one woman who always had her back. She couldn’t ignore the facts.
Gran had given Lucy her number.
What was she thinking?
Only the more she stewed, the more sense she made of it all. As hurtful as her disloyalty felt, Talia couldn’t stay angry with Gran. Pity was more like it. It was the same chapter in a different book. Lucy was manipulative and self-centered. Obviously. Gran always fell for it. Talia didn’t. Up until now, Lucy had always steered clear. Which made her wonder…
What the hell was Lucy up to this time?
Chapter 9
Talia
Talia woke before her alarm the next morning, dressing quickly in the black dress that hung on her closet door. Nerves jangled in her stomach as she slid the zipper up her spine, its metal teeth teasing a shiver along the same line. Today, Maxwell would see what a little kid she was.
Doubt curled in her belly when she paused in front of a full-length mirror, smoothing the material over her hips. The woman staring back was a million miles from who she felt like she was. But she looked a heck of a lot more like who she desperately wanted to be.
Sitting on her bedside table, the new book club book’s cover lifted up in a telltale curl. She’d read the first chapter of Fear of Flying in the café and identified so much with Isadora’s desire for more that she’d finished the next three before she went to bed. She couldn’t wait to hear Doris’s and Emily’s thoughts on Isadora at book club that evening. But first things first.
The house was still when she tiptoed from her bedroom and gingerly picked her way to the front door. Gran would want to talk. Talia wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. Instead, she threw a light raincoat over the simple black dress and slipped through the front door.
Walking against a gentle morning breeze, she found the city just as empty. Her heels clicked purposefully down the sidewalk, sounding as if she was on a mission. Maybe she was.
For three blocks, between their cottage and the edge of campus, Talia held the coat together with one hand and her bag strap with the other. With each step, the dress’s fabric pulled over her backside making her steps feel rhythmic, her hips swishing back and forth. It felt naughty, walking that way, and she was glad to have the coat to hide it—still unsure if she could fully commit to the plan.
It seemed easy enough. Change the exterior and the interior would follow. Up until now, it had worked. Transitioning from student to faculty member had been easier than she thought it would be. But now, trying to change her inner self, well, that was much harder.
She climbed the steps to Maxwell’s building, hoping he was the kind of department head who arrived early to prepare for the day. If not, she’d leave the jacket and take it as a sign from the universe that she was out of her lane. And that would be that.
There weren’t many bodies on campus. The first classes started in thirty minutes. Plenty of time to return his jacket and get to the library. When she reached the top step, she forced her hand away from the raincoat’s placket, allowing it to fall open. Would she dare take the next step?
She pushed through the building’s heavy wooden door into the lobby. Silence echoed over the tiled floor and vaulted ceiling. A heavy breath eased out of her. Before she lost her nerve, rubbing her thumb over the henna blossom for courage, she shrugged out of the raincoat and hung it on a rack near the entrance. A deep inhale. A deeper swallow to remove whatever had lodged in her throat, and she turned down the hallway to Maxwell’s office.
She’d never been there before, but the old buildings were alike enough for her to know the general direction. Her steps slowed when she reached the end of the hallway and the smell of Earl Grey clung to every inch of air.
Another deep breath.
Another deeper swallow.
One door sat slightly ajar. A lamp burned on the other side of it. The rustle of papers found its way through the crack. A black-and-bronze placard hung beside the door frame:
Maxwell Radclyffe, PhD
Human Sexuality, Department Head
Her knuckles tapping against a small pane above the knob echoed.
“Come in.” His voice was clear and crisp.
She cleared her throat and pushed the door open, tucking her hair behind her ear. She forced her shoulders down, lifted her chin, and smiled the best she could. Her nerves caused it to tremble, and she quickly bit her bottom lip to stop it.
Maxwell looked up from his desk, a warm but amused grin on his face. One that flattened out when he drank in the full length of her standing on the threshold. And then it was back on his lips again, just as quickly as it had vanished.
“Talia?” Her name. His lips. Perfection. “What are you doing here so early?”
She opened her bag, pulled his carefully folded jacket from the top of it, and motioned toward the leather couch opposite his desk.
“I thought you might need this today. Shall I leave it here?” Talia gently laid the jacket over the sofa’s back, smoothing it into place.
“Yes. Thank you. That’s perfect.” He was obviously searching for words as he rose from behind his desk. Replacing a pen cap and laying it on the papers.
“I can see you’re busy. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Talia looked over her shoulder to the door. Should she go? Should she stay?
“No!” Maxwell said quickly, emotion registering in his voice. “No, not at all. Just catching up on some paperwork. It can wait….” His voice trailed off. Talia shifted nervously on her feet. “Can I get you something? Tea? Coffee? I think we might have some bagels somewhere.”
“No, I—” Talia started to refuse the offer and slink away. That was the easy thing. Rubbing her thumb over her inner wrist again, she smiled and nodded. “I don’t need a bagel. A cup of tea would be great. Is that Earl Grey I smell?”
“Good nose.” Maxwell nodded, reaching for an electric kettle on a table behind his desk. He found a Talmadge mug and a tea bag.
“It’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too.” Maxwell plopped the tea bag into the water and joined her at the front of his desk. With a sweeping hand, he offered her a seat on the couch. She took it, and he sank onto his desktop right in front of her. The smell of him washed over her. Soap, Earl Grey, and leather. The way he made her mind swim there had to be a gallon of pheromones in there, too. She’d be drunk on him if she kept it up. “You look lovely today. Special occasion?”
Talia smoothed a hand over her skirt and then tucked her hair behind her ear.