Page 67 of Hope & Harmony

I’m still quivering.

I take out my key and unlock my apartment door. “I’d invite you in for some coffee, but I’m exhausted.”

He pauses a moment. “I suppose you need to be well-rested to get together with Sarah and thatrockertomorrow.”

“Well…yes.”

He sighs. “There’s something I need to tell you, Blaire.”

“What is it?”

“Could I come in?”

I sigh. Professor Morgan knows how tired I am, so he wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. “I suppose for a moment.”

“Thank you.” He follows me in.

“I guess I can make some coffee if you want some. Or I could open a bottle of wine, but I won’t be having any.”

He holds up a hand. “No, no. Don’t go to any trouble. A glass of water will be fine. You should have a glass as well.”

“Oh, yes, keep hydrated.”

He never stops being my teacher.

I walk into my small galley kitchen, fill two glasses with ice and water. Professor Morgan is already sitting on my loveseat. My living area is so small that I only have a loveseat and a recliner. Normally I would sit next to him on the loveseat, but I feel…

I’m not sure what I feel, but I take the chair.

He takes a sip of his water. “Blaire”—he clears his throat—“we’ve known each other for seven years now.”

“We have.”

“For six of those years, I was your college professor.”

I smile. “You still are, as far as I’m concerned. You know I take your advice very seriously. You’ll always be my teacher.”

He takes a slow breath in and then sighs. “I suppose that’s what I need to talk to you about.” He leans forward. “Blaire, I don’t want to beonlyyour teacher anymore.”

I open my mouth as a wave of fear nearly crushes me. “Don’t leave me now. I know you’re against this thing with Sarah, but I need you. I depend on you, Professor Morgan.”

He edges closer to the side of the loveseat—close enough to grab my hand. “Will I ever convince you to call me Corbett?”

“It just…” I rub my arms against a sudden chill. “It doesn’t feel right to me.”

“I realize I’m twenty years older than you are,” he says, “but?—”

I quickly rise from the chair, bumping the small coffee table and spilling my glass of water.

“You’ve nothing to fear from me, Blaire,” he continues. “But what I feel for you now is more than just the affection a teacher feels for a student, for his protégé. Somewhere along the way I fell in love with you.”

My brain goes haywire. There is no way inhellthat this man just said that. A man who took me into his studio when I was freshly eighteen, still a child, really. Professor Morgan wasalways a little more touchy-feely than I was comfortable with, but I’ve gotten used to it. You have to get used to being poked and prodded in voice lessons. That’s part of the deal. He never crossed the line, and I don’t believe he’ll cross it now.

I hate the idea of upsetting him, of possibly even breaking his heart, but I don’t think of him in that way. I never have, and I never will.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “But I think you need to leave now.”

He pops up from the loveseat and grabs my hands. “Please, Blaire. Don’t make me leave. Let me show you how much you’ve come to mean to me.”

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