Page 45 of The Nanny Tenure (Single Dads Club)

I followed her outside, where a few people milled about. The fall night air was bracing after being in the stuffy party so long, and Nadine took a deep breath, almost like she needed a break too.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked after a few seconds.

“Yes, thanks. Are you?”

“Haven’t been able to get my hands on one of those stuffed mushrooms that are being passed around.”

“Oh yeah. They’re delicious. One of my students is working, so he made sure to stop by me first with the tray.”

She let out a puff of air from her nose, her version of a laugh. “I wanted to catch you alone because your tenure review is coming up.”

I swallowed thickly. Receiving tenure wasn’t easy. It took a lot of time and effort, proof of research in the academic field and continued educational development. Tenure represented a significant long-term investment for the university, so the process was lengthy and intense, involving multiple stages and committees to vet a candidate’s added value to the school. It was what most professors worked toward, and while it wasn’t necessary to continue teaching, it was a big accomplishment to receive tenure.

“The faculty committee has been very impressed with your work,” Nadine continued.

I allowed myself to smile, proud. “Thank you. I’m glad to hear my effort hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“Far from it. You are exactly what we hope for in a tenured professor, and I expect your review to go smoothly,” she said, and I relaxed. Until her expression morphed from one of support to a warning. “There is one point of concern.”

My palms went clammy even with the chill, knowing what she was about to say.

“The video from your television interview this summer,” she started quietly, almost sympathetically. “You’ve gained a lot of notoriety since then.”

I nodded because it was true. It felt like my so-called fame was finally coming to a tail end.

“It’s attracted a lot of interest in our school. I think I remember hearing you say Dean Herring spoke to you about it.”

Again, I nodded. Janice Herring was the dean of admissions and was ecstatic that my face was everywhere. She called me a walking, talking billboard for the university, but I also knew some people were unhappy about it, particularly the provost.

“Wendall’s concerned,” I guessed, and she inclined her head.

Wendall Assman—yes, that was his actual last name—wasn’t a fan of my newfound fame, and he’d made it known in a curtly worded email, informing me that if I was going to represent the university on national television, I needed to do a better job. The problem with Wendall, besides his terrible last name, was that he had the final word on tenure.

I couldn’t piss him off.

“I’m on your side here,” Nadine said, “but we have to be certain there won’t be further…incidents that could jeopardize your position or the school’s standing.”

Read: don’t have any more stupid videos of you go viral.

“I’m not planning on allowing anything like that to ever happen again. It was an anomaly.”

She patted my arm. “I know you’re dedicated to your job, and you’re an asset to this university. As far as I’m concerned, you deserve this tenured position, but you have to help yourself. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Absolutely. I’ll be a choirboy.”

“Well, I don’t know if you have to go that far,” she said with a smile then turned to head back to the party.

“I appreciate your giving me a heads-up, Dr. Lang.”

She waved over her shoulder and disappeared inside.

I stayed a moment longer, processing our conversation. Her direction was clear, keep my nose clean and tenure was mine. Simple.

Now that I had Kennedy to help me out with Finn, everything was smooth sailing.

With renewed motivation, I sauntered back into the party and rubbed elbows for another hour or so before I made a polite exit.

At home, I yanked my tie loose as I trudged upstairs. It was after ten, and the house was quiet. At the top of the steps, I could see Kennedy’s door cracked open, light spilling into the hall. I took one step forward, planning to check on Finn, but my body made the decision before my mind consciously did. And suddenly, I had one hand on the doorframe, the other quietly knocking and inadvertently pushing Kennedy’s door open.

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