Page 52 of Those Heartbreak Scars

“He was too stuffy. Rude.” He turns to Gray. “She’s a queen. You treat her like one. Or you’ll haveTürk mafyasito contend with.”

“Çok tesekkürler.” I beam at Emmad as I press on tiptoes to kiss Gray’s cheek. “But you don’t have to worry about this one.”

“I hope that was something nice,” Gray says.

“I just expressed my gratitude at him threatening to send the Turkish mafia after you if you hurt me.” Grinning, I pick up our food and leave him slack-jawed at the counter.

He catches up to me as I place it on one of the small tables set out for customers. “Hang on. Are you serious? Your kebab guys are connected to the mafia?”

“I have no idea.” I shrug as I sit down and tear off the lid on the garlic potatoes. Digging into them, I fork a huge bite into my mouth. “So you better not hurt me. Just in case.”

“You’re a mess.” He leans across the table and wipes away a little of the creamy sauce that stuck to my lip while I mumbled with my mouth full. “But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll be careful with you, and you will be careful with me.”

“Deal.”

He sits back and rips the wrapping from his kebab before taking a bite. The juice from the meat and the tangy sauce dribbles down his chin. “Shit.”

“Who’s the mess now?” I grin from ear to ear.

“Funny.” Grabbing a napkin he wipes his mouth, his eyes filled with warmth.

Relaxed Gray hasn’t been around in a while. I missed him. It’s good to see him not so serious. Not so burdened.

“So you brought your creep of a professor here?” He stretches his legs out under the table, his feet close enough that our ankles touch while we eat.

“Just once.” I try to twist the cap off the bottle of Fanta. “Our one and only time we hung out together outside of his office.”

He’d wanted to see what my life was like. It sucks that the ghost of his presence is tarnishing one of my favorite eateries.

“And yet he found you today?” Gray asks.

“Silks is close to his favorite book shop. We crossed paths a few times.” Damn, so many regrets tied up in my time with that man. In hoping the connection we shared in our common interest in languages could be more. Letting him make me feel special. “I knew he wasn’t going to be anything serious, but it felt nice to have someone with similar interests to talk to.”

“Talk to?” He raises one brow.

“One thing led to another.” I’m still not quite sure how. “Talking turned into flirting which turned into making out in his office.”

Getting on my knees because he asked nicely. He was the only person I’d connected to outside of Dove since I moved here. Iconvinced myself that dating him was a good idea. Or at least not the worst idea.

It was better than him being cold with me.

The idea of being on the outside makes me panicky. My hands grow clammy even now, and it’s been four months since I walked away. “As humiliating as the whole experience ended up being I was almost glad when I found out he was married. Meeting his wife was the push that I needed to distance myself.”

“Here.” Gray holds out his hand and when I pass the bottle, he pops that lid off with one twist.

“Thanks.” My stomach flips but the panic subsides. He probably doesn’t even realize that something so small makes me feel taken care of. I sip at the orange soda. “You still don’t want to tell me that I’m a dumbass?”

“I want to report the guy to the university board. They and his wife should be made aware of his behavior. That way even if he keeps his job, he’ll be forced to pay for it on a personal level. But it’s your decision, Rica. You tell me what you want to do, and I will support you.” He picks up my hand and presses his lips against the back of my knuckles. “You know I will.”

“Well, actually…” I don’t mean to drop him in it, but he did give me the perfect opportunity. “I’ve decided to withdraw from my classes.”

“You have?” A shadow flickers in his eyes. His jaw bulges, but he lets whatever causes the tension —disappointment, anger?—go quickly.

“I don’t know what my future looks like.” Bunching my hands around the hem of the sweatshirt I’m wearing, I tug it down my legs a little more. Do I continue working at the coffee shop? Gohome? Try to finish my doctorate? Or something else entirely. “But I have to go in and sign the paperwork. Make it official.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“Would you?” My desire to not have to face him has made me put off unenrolling long enough.

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