Page 88 of The Love Interest
He is willing to face whatever reprimand or sanctions Tom Delancey considers appropriate because he wants to be with me.
He. Wants. To. Be. With. Me.
I stop in my tracks and pull him back to face me. I don’t even know what street we’re on right now, and I don’t care. This is real and we’re at the good part and I am in it with him. I place my cold hands on either side of his stupidly handsome face and say, “I will go with you when you talk to Delancey.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I will sign an affidavit acknowledging that this is a consensual relationship and that you are an exceptionally thoughtful and magnificent lover.”
“Well, Iwouldlike to have that in writing.”
“I will have a plaque made for you.”
He puts his big cold hands on either side of my face too. “I just want to make sure you understand that there will be repercussions for you too. Not on your transcript, but people will talk. Other students will be jealous or derisive or skeptical—who knows.”
“Let ’em. Fuck ’em.” I let go of him and bounce around, punching the air. “I’m from California. I’m tough. Ain’t nobody better mess with me, or I’ll smile at them and be extra friendly.”
He shakes his head at me, and the warmth in his eyes heals every part of me that I didn’t even know needed healing. “I love you so much it actually hurts,” he whispers, absentmindedly touching his hand to his heart. Then he grabs my face and kisses me.
* * *
Emmett was very adamant about me not having to join him in the meeting with Tom Delancey, but he is also very aware that I’m a sassy little turd, so he was not surprised to see me waiting outside of Delancey’s office when he got here. I am still sitting outside Delancey’s office, in the waiting area, and Emmett has been in there for half an hour now. It’s one forty-five. I am so nervous for him. And also still a little drunk maybe.
But I definitely don’t smell like a winery anymore.
I am pretty sure I don’t smell like a winery anymore.
I’m sitting here on a faux-leather sofa, with my ankles crossed and my hands clasped together in my lap, trying to look like a president’s wife. I’d like to think I’m doing a Jackie Kennedy impersonation, but I feel more like Richard Nixon’s wife at the moment. Not that Fionagate is a bad thing. I have zero regrets about what he did to me in that office, and I will stand by my man forever.
Unless he pisses me off again. But I will always get over it, eventually.
I am so happy that I decided to come to Delancey’s office and that Emmett made me wait outside, because I get to see the look on Veronica’s horrible face when she walks in and sees me.
Her perfectly manicured hands ball up into fists. “What areyoudoing here?”
“Oh hello. I’m here waiting for Emmett. He’s talking to Professor Delancey right now. Aboutus.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Oh, you’re an ‘us,’ are you?”
I flash her a megawatt smile. “Yes. We are.”
The door to the chair’s office opens, and Emmett walks out, heading straight toward me. Tom Delancey waves the receptionist over and mutters something then goes back inside his office, shutting the door.
“Are you Veronica?” the receptionist asks.
“Yes. I have a two o’clock appointment with Professor Delancey.”
“That appointment has been canceled. Thank you!”
I stand up, and hopefully nobody notices that I lose my balance a little because my foot’s asleep. It is not easy to sit with your legs crossed at the ankles. But it is exceedingly easy to slip my hand into Emmett’s when he joins me in the waiting area. He gives it a little squeeze. He is frowning, but in a hot way.
Not like Veronica, who is frowning in a b-face way.
“Ready to go?” he asks me.
“If you are.”
He nods once and then looks Veronica straight in the eye as we walk past her. “Veronica.”
