Page 81 of Pretending I'm Yours

Anthony

The late afternoonsun slants through the chapel’s stained-glass windows, painting my graduating students in jewel tones as they file past Columbia’s president to receive their diplomas. The historic auditorium smells of wood polish and tradition, filled with the rustle of robes and muffled excitement.

Five months ago, I wasn’t sure if teaching was the right next step. I thought it might end up being a temporary thing, a way to fill the time while I reflected on where I want to go from here in my life and career.

Now, watching my brilliant students launching into the world, better prepared for everything they’ll encounter in the financial sector because of the work I put in, I can’t imagine doing anything else.

I love my new job almost as much as I love my new life.

And it’s all because of one person…

As if sensing my thoughts have turned to her, Maya squeezes my hand from her seat beside me in the front row. She insisted on coming, even though she’s had one hell of a week with thereno crew. The conversion of the lobby into studio apartments hit another snag when the custom windows she ordered arrived in the wrong size and the plumbers put the toilet in the kitchen in unit two, pushing her timeline back another three weeks. But she rallied by shifting her attention to other projects and got the all-clear on the new electrical several months ahead of schedule.

That’s just Maya—nothing keeps her down for long. She already has a waiting list of potential tenants for the studios, mostly young professionals drawn to her vision of affordable micro-living spaces with built-in storage solutions and Murphy beds. The existing tenants love her, too—she’s raised the rent less than any landlord on the block, while improving their quality of life and the safety of the building as a whole, just as she promised.

She keeps her promises. It’s one of the many things I love about her, this woman who hooked me hard at first sight and has spent every day since proving she’s the best thing that ever happened to me in a hundred ways—big and small.

“No sex eyes in front of the students,” she mutters out of the side of her mouth, making me grin before forcing my attention back to the stage.

“Can’t help it,” I mutter back. “You’re a snack in that sundress, woman.”

She squeezes my hand again with a happy smile, sending a wave of gratitude rushing through me. It’s so easy with her. So easy to make her happy, so easy to feel at home and at peace while still wanting to ravage my girl every chance I get.

Especially this afternoon…

She looks stunning in a pale blue-and-white striped sundress that matches the spring sky outside, her hair swept up in an updo that shows off her elegant neck. Paired with the sapphire tennis bracelet I got her as a twenty-fifth birthday present, shelooks effortlessly classy, like she belongs in this prestigious hall or anywhere else in the city she wants to be.

I know her friends were surprised by how quickly their “shy little Maya” assimilated to city life, but I wasn’t. Maya can hang back in unfamiliar situations, until she feels comfortable, but at her core, she’s a lion. She’s brave and bold and always ready for a challenge.

And I really hope she’s up for the next challenge I’d like to throw her way…

With my free hand, I touch the ring in my suit vest pocket, assuring myself the vintage diamond is still where I put it this morning. It probably would have been safer in its box, but on this unseasonably hot May afternoon it’s too warm for a jacket, and none of my other pockets were large enough to hide the box without making a noticeable lump.

And I want this to be a surprise. I booked a table at the cat café where we first went with Pudge in December, and the pet sitter is transporting Pudge up there an hour before we arrive, so he can get ready to play his part. As soon as we reach the café, I’m going to pass the ring to Penny, our favorite waiter, who will place it in a locket around Pudge’s neck.

I think Maya will be happy that I included our fur baby in the big moment. Pudge is part of our family, after all…a family I hope will grow even bigger in the coming years.

Maya says she wants at least two children, and I can’t wait to give them to her. The thought of fucking my baby into this beautiful woman is unspeakably hot. And something I shouldn’t think about until we’re alone, if I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the entire graduating class.

After the ceremony, we linger in the courtyard as the graduates take photos with their families. I shake hands and congratulate my students and their proud parents, wishing themthe best for the future, until most of the crowd has filed out for pictures in front of the trees.

The cherry trees are in full bloom on the quad, their petals drifting on the breeze like snow as Maya and I head toward the parking garage.

“Oh no,” Maya says, stopping dead beside me on the paved path. “I think I left my purse in your office. Do we have time to run grab it before our reservation?”

“Absolutely,” I say, checking my watch. “We’re not due at Bernard’s until six.”

We’re not going to Bernard’s, but I don’t want Maya to know that until we arrive at the café, and we still have plenty of time. I wasn’t certain how long the socializing would take, so I made sure to give us a sizeable time cushion between the end of the ceremony and our dinner.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she says, as we head down the path in the opposite direction. “I’ve been forgetting everything lately.”

“You have a lot on your plate,” I say. “Like I’ve said a hundred times, I think you should hire an assistant.”

“But if I hire an assistant, I won’t be able to keep making loan payments every two weeks,” she says as we pass through the arched doorway into the mathematics building. Inside, the halls are quiet now that the semester is over, and our shoes echo on the marble floors as we start up the steps. “And I’m proud of those payments, even if they are still small. For now.”

“I’m proud of you, too, but your quality of life is my primary concern. And if your quality of life would be improved by bringing on someone to help manage all the moving pieces…”

She hums beneath her breath, trailing her fingers along the oak paneling as we reach the door to my small office on the second floor. “Maybe. But right now, I have another concern.”

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