Page 53 of Complete Me

“I admit to being in a consensual, mutually caring relationship with two adult individuals who are kind, affectionate, and genuinely good people.” I stare him down, daring him to contradict me.

He looks crestfallen. “I’d seriously hoped you’d tell me it was a misunderstanding. Or that it was a momentary error in judgment.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go to Provost Owusu with this and rescind my recommendation for your tenure. We need to ensure that our tenured professors set the right kinds of examples for our student body.”

“I suppose I’ll have to go to HR then and report you for your harassing, bigoted comments.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “You couldn’t prove it.” He looks around my office. “Unless you’re recording us, which is illegal without my knowledge, or unless there are students eavesdropping outside your door, it’s your word against mine.”

“The provost won’t see this as a reason to deny me tenure.”

His smirk is evil. “Your teaching quality is questionable at best. You’re difficult with students and demand excessively high results.”

I gawp at him. Those are exactly the qualities he said made him approve my tenure application in the first place. It’s how he teaches, for god’s sake. “So, you’re going to fault me for the very way you teach?”

“It’s a valid reason to deny tenure.”

Dread and embarrassment slam into me. I’m alternately hot, then cold, and blood rushes in my ears. Before I give him the satisfaction of seeing how his pronouncement has affected me, I inhale deeply, then exhale slowly. It helps to calm my racing heart. “You do what you feel you need to, Dean. And I will, too.”

“What does that mean?” His outrage is clear in both his tone and posture as he sits up taller, shoulders back.

“It means you may have your conversation with Provost Owusu, but I’ll have mine. She has an open door policy.” She’s also reasonable and tends toward progressive thinking, but tenure isn’t solely based on one thing. Shit. This could be the end of my career here. If I’m not granted tenure, I’ll have to switch schools and start the process all over again somewhere else. And that could mean moving. Which would be the end of what Bjorn, Kaino, and I are just starting. I can feel my emotions ratcheting up. My hands are trembling with rage and fear, so I keep them in my lap where Koontz can’t see them. “Please leave. I don’t have time to waste on bigots.”

Dean Koontz shoots out of his seat like he’s been stabbed with a pin, mouth open in shock and indignation. Good. Welcome to the club. When I don’t flinch, he spins on his heels, yanks my office door open, and storms out, slamming it behind him. I sag into my chair and cover my face with my hands, breathing slowly, forcing my body to calm down. Fucking hell.

As soon as my hands stop trembling, I pull my phone from my pocket and text Bjorn.

Me: Are you home?

It takes a minute for the response to come back

Bjorn: In the yard playing with Pita. What’s up?

Me: I’m done for the day and could use a hug. Any chance I can stop by?

Bjorn: Everything okay?

Me: Bad day.

Bjorn: Just so happens I have a hug with your name on it right here

Me: heart emoji On my way

I knock on Bjorn’s front door, and it swings open almost immediately. Bjorn doesn’t even say hello before he wraps me in his strong arms. It might be the best hug I’ve ever experienced. I relax against him, letting him support most of my weight. “That bad, huh?”

I nod against his temple. “Yeah. It’s only 4:00 p.m., but I sure could use a glass of wine.”

He kisses my cheek. “Absolutely, babe.” He lets me go and takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen, and I sit at the breakfast bar, shoulders slumped, feeling marginally better just because I’m here. “Kaino’s on their way. They’ll be here in about twenty minutes, so why don’t we hold off discussing what happened until they can listen, too. No sense repeating yourself.” He turns to face me. “That’s if you want to tell us. Or them. I shouldn’t assume.”

He pulls a bottle of white wine from the fridge and holds it up for my approval. I nod, not really caring what kind it is. Bjorn knows what I like, so I trust his choice. “Of course I want to tell you both. I’m actually glad they’re coming over. And sorry if I messed up any plans you had.” I take off my glasses, set them on the granite countertop, and rub my temple.

“Nah. You didn’t mess up any plans. I was just out in the yard with Pita.” As if summoned by his name, the big Norwegian Elkhound wanders into the kitchen, his massive paws slapping against the hardwood floors. He saunters over, eyes bright and tail wagging, but his demeanor is calm, so he and Bjorn must have worked off a lot of his energy.

Pita rests his chin on my thigh, and I scratch behind his ears. “Hey boy. How’s your day? Sounds like you and your daddy were having a great time outside.” His tail still wags, but his head gets heavier on my leg the longer I pet him. Grinning, I glance up at Bjorn. “He’s wiped out.”

Bjorn nods, returning my grin. “We were out there for a few hours. Thank god Gunnar bought us the automatic ball tosser, or I’d be in some serious pain right now. All that overhand throwing would have irritated my side, I’m sure.”

With a jolt, I remember Bjorn’s injury. God, I’m such an insensitive jerk. Though he does act like nothing’s wrong, so it’s difficult to remember it’s only been about three months since the incident. “That was very thoughtful of him.”

“Yeah. It really was.” Bjorn rubs the back of his neck and grins sheepishly. “Funny how much things improve when you stop assuming you know what’s best for everyone.” His eyes widen. “Me. I meant I was the one doing the assuming. Not Gunnar.”

---