Page 12 of Hook, Line, Infinity, Part 3

It’s taken a beating, that much is incontestable, more so than I can endure and somehow—don’t ask me how, but I’m surviving.

After all, if I’ve learned anything over the years it’s that there is light despite all the darkness and futility.

* * *

“Professor Saxton, welcome.”I smile politely as I enter the dean’s very urban office. I’m impressed, not at all what I was expecting. We shake hands and my eyes immediately flitter over to the various paintings hung up on his light grey wall. Curious, I walk over to them, examining each one. “Stunning, aren’t they?”

I nod, shoving my hands into the pockets of my trousers. “They’re exquisite. Who are they by? I don’t believe I’m familiar with these artists.”

“Well, you certainly will be.” He states with a chuckle. “Each one of these breath-taking pieces are by our very own. Former and some present students here at U.C.A.L.”

My brows rise with interest. Well, colour me impressed. There are various paintings of flowers and landscapes, each one more detailed than the last. The nuances of colour, shapes and light are downright impressive. Something tells me I’m going to like teaching at this school. If the students here obtain this much talent and passion, teaching them will be a picnic.

“Let me give you the tour and show you to your office, Professor. After I can introduce you to the rest of the faculty. Sound good?” I nod once and follow him out of the office back into the corridor. Naturally his office is located on the highest floor overlooking the entire ground and, in the distance, you can see the London skyline.

“Lead the way.”

The first week at a new job, especially as a professor, is always tough, at least it is for me. Preparing for classes is the easy part, I can do that in my sleep. It’s introducing myself to the students and building that relationship with them that I dread, though I must admit they do seem a lot more pleasant and polite when compared to the snooty trust fund brats I had back in Oakhill.

And best of all, not a godman Polly Montgomery in sight. My blood boils just thinking about that rotten bitch.

Thankfully most of the Professors and teachers here are in their mid-forty’s or early fifties, if not older.

“Good morning, Professor Saxton.” A student of mine politely greets me as I walk through the halls toward the faculty lounge.

I greet her with a smile, “Good morning, Miss Vincent. I’m looking forward to reading that paper you wrote on Georgia O’Keeffe later.” Her amber eyes light right up behind those round specs she’s wearing, and she flashes me a wide grin displaying her ceramic braces. It truly pleases me to witness student’s excitement over their schoolwork.

God, it’s early and I am in desperate need of coffee. The coffee in the faculty lounge isn’t as lavish as the one we had on campus in Oakhill or the coffee shop around the corner, but it will have to suffice till I find one that coincides with my pallet.

I swipe my key card and the moment I nudge the door open to walk in, the aroma of coffee and freshly baked goods wafts toward me and my stomach growls in response, reminding me that I’ve not eaten much of anything since the late lunch I had the day before.

The instant I step into the room and the door closes behind me I feel a mystifying shiver crawl its way up my spine, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise.

Bloody hell, my body hasn’t had this reaction since I’d been in a room with…

My feet immediately halt and I’m suddenly immobilised, my limbs refuse to move as though they were submerged in concrete when my eyes flitter across the room and they lock with a very familiar pair of eyes. The same pair of eyes that transfixed me almost three years ago.

There she stood, holding a cup of coffee in her hand, looking bafflingly stunning as the very first day I saw her. Only this time, she’s gaping back at me wide-eyed, those full rosy lips slightly parted.

I want to slap myself just in case I’m hallucinating again, and I almost did, until the coffee cup she’s holding slips through her fingers and hits the floor.

Jesus Christ, she’s real.

I simply can’t find words apt enough to elucidate what I’m feeling. For a while it felt like time stopped and everyone in the room vanished leaving only us. Rein’s chest rises and falls quickly with every breath she takes. Her hand slowly moves down and my eyes follow until it stops and rests on her stomach.

Holy shit.

I gape at her round protruding belly, utterly shell-shocked for the longest time before I finally force myself to look up and find her gaze filled with such deep sorrow that it steals the very breath out of my lungs.

She’s… pregnant.

“Rein.”

When her name leaves my lips her eyes glisten with unshed tears which she quickly blinks away, composing herself. Before I knew it, my feet are moving toward her, taking no notice of the bewildered expressions of the staff sitting in the same room watching us.

Rein’s eyes dart across the room filled with panic, clearly looking for an escape. Oh no, you don’t. I close in on her before she can make a move and taking hold of her hand I pull her toward the door of the staff lounge and out into the quiet hallway.

The second we step out, Rein tears her hand out of mine and fixes me with a scathing glare. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demands stormily.

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