Page 78 of Bad Professor

“I pay for this apartment, so I bloody well better have a key.”

I take an involuntary step back because that tone in Carlos’s voice has made me cringe for almost twenty years. Right away, I feel like everything is my fault.

I hate that feeling.

So I decide not to feel it. I did nothing wrong. He should not be in my apartment.

He really shouldn’t. What if Dexter had been here?

I draw myself up, blocking his way into the apartment. “Carlos. You have no right to have a key because this is my home—a home you unfortunately pay for because you moved your mistress into our home,” I say. Loudly. With feeling.

Carlos frowns. “What’s the matter with you?”

“I’m mad. I’m angry. You don’t respect my privacy enough to at least knock? What if I had someone here?” I can count on one hand the times I’ve gotten angry enough to talk back to Carlos over the years, and it feels good. I feel strong and important and—

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

Strong and important crumple. I catch my breath and try to keep my face expressionless because Carlos may not know anything.

But—He knows. Carlos knows I’m seeing Dexter. One of the girls must have said something. I straighten my shoulders and refuse to cower because I did nothing wrong. I fell in love with a wonderful man and there’s nothing wrong with that. “Were you trying to burst in and embarrass me?” I demand in a cold voice.

“I was trying to stop you from making a huge mistake.”

“What mistake are you referring to?”

“Tilly!” Carlos spreads his hands. “He’s your teacher.”

The tiny hall seems to shrink in size, the mirror on the wall reflecting Carlos tall and towering, and me, half-dressed and flinching at his words. “It’s none of your business.”

“It is when he’s your teacher. He’s your professor, Tilly. What the hell are you doing? It’s not the first time he’s fucked one of his students, either,” Carlos shouts. I cringe at the ugly use of the word. “Did he tell you that?”

Anger and shame mix in a potent cocktail in my stomach, and hearing Carlos’s accusations only shakes it more. “Carlos, you don’t know—”

“I do know,” he cries. “When Jade told me this guy is a teacher at the university, I called to check him out.”

“He’s not this guy, and why would you do that? What right do you have to interfere in my life?” Stay mad, I tell myself. Don’t listen to what he said. Carlos doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You know Dexter. But do I?

“Because you’re my wife!”

My control cracks under his declaration. “I am not your wife, Carlos. I’m your ex-wife—ex-wife. You made that perfectly clear when you, again, moved your mistress into my home.”

“Will you get over that? We’ve moved on.”

“I’ve definitely moved on from you, Carlos, but it’s a little difficult to deal with when you completely fucked up my life.”

Carlos’s expression is one of shock, confusion, and a little fear. It might be funny if I wasn’t so angry. “What’s gotten into you? Are you on your period or something?”

I strangle the shout in my throat. “Get out. Give me that key and get out.”

“I’m not going until we deal with the problem of your boyfriend. He’s making you look like an idiot.”

“He’s making me look like an idiot? Pot calling the kettle black, Carlos.”

“Tilly, listen. Calm down. I’m trying to help.”

“No, you’re interfering in my life when you have no business in doing so. I’m not your wife, Carlos. I’m not your responsibility. And Dexter is not a mistake—for the first time in a very long, long time, I’m happy. You have no say in that, and it’s killing you.”

“You’re… you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing with your English professor who is ten years—”

---