Page 111 of Wanted You More

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Iwait bymy desk as the remaining students leave to celebrate the end of term like I should be doing. Instead, I’m wondering why my professor wants to talk to me.

Professor Kamala looks over at where I stand stiffly and gestures me forward. “I don’t bite, Austen,” she muses, grabbing her bag and putting it over her shoulder. “Would you like to speak here or in my office? It won’t take long.”

Nerves buzz underneath my skin. “Here is fine. Is everything okay? I checked my grade online last night and saw I was passing.”

She laughs. “It’s not your classwork or grade. You did very well this semester. I enjoyed your thoughtful papers and could tell you put a lot of effort into them.”

Pride swells in my chest. “Thanks.” I readjust my bag strap and wet my dry lips. “Does this have to do with you and my dad? Because I’m not sure I want to know anything anymore.”

Amusement curls her lips. “I take it that’s why you took this class.”

Internally, I wince. “I wanted to know who you were. I’d seen you around campus with my dad, and Wolfe mentioned some things to me.” I refuse to let guilt seep in for that. Standing a little straighter, I say, “My family means a lot to me. They’re all I have, and we’ve been through enough. To my knowledge, Wolfe and I never wondered if our dad would move on, but we wouldn’t do anything to stop it if it meant him being happy.”

She looks contemplative for a few moments before easing onto the edge of the desk. “Your father and I are good friends, and I can tell how much you and your brother mean to him. I’ve got children of my own, you know.”

I hadn’t known that. “How old are they?”

“Older than you.” She says it with a smile, and I can tell by her bright features that she loves them. “My son is thirty and my daughter is twenty-eight. They live in South Carolina with their father and respective families. After the divorce, they primarily lived with me because their dad traveled a lot for work. He was in the military, so you could imagine he wasn’t around enough to watch them grow. They’re all very close now that he’s retired.”

Why is she telling me any of this? “You never seemed that interested in sharing anything whenever we’d interact before. Why now?”

“You’re no longer my student, for one,” she points out easily. “But I want you to know that I understand. I saw firsthand what my kids went through when their father started dating. It was hard for them. I’m grateful that they wanted our happiness as much as you want that for your father. And whether that’s achieved with me or some other woman, I’m sure whoever he winds up with will give him just that.”

That strikes me. “You don’t think that’ll be you? I saw you with him. He hasn’t smiled like that in a long time.”

All my professor does is shrug loosely and say, “When you get to be my age, you never know what’s going to happen. I do consider your father my friend. If nothing else, he could use plenty of friends.”

It’s a sweeter side of my hard-edged professor than I’ve seen, but I get it. She wasn’t going to cross any lines since she was teaching me for the past four months.

As a peace offering, I say, “Wolfe said you taught Dad how to cook lasagna without burning it.”

My father’s friend laughs lightly. “Your brother certainly seemed to enjoy it. He’d said he didn’t need to pick off the burnt edges.”

I find myself smiling. That was one of Mom’s specialties. Every Christmas, she’d make a huge dish of it that Wolfe and I would help her with. Mostly supervising because we’d make a mess whenever we’d try layering in the different ingredients.

“Thank you,” I finally say, “for being his friend. I can tell it’s already made a positive change in his life.”

She reaches out and takes my hand. “You don’t need to thank me for that. It’s me who’s grateful.”

I look down at our hands for a moment before lifting my eyes to smile. “I should get going. I’ve got one more final.”

She stands up. “Good luck. It was wonderful having your insight in my class. I have no doubt you made your father and mother proud this semester.”

Refusing to let her see how that hits me, I swallow down the growing emotions and offer her the same wavering smile before walking out.

Each step is lighter, full of something that makes the pressure on my shoulders ease.

Accomplishment.

I look up to the sky. “I did it,” I tell Mom.

***

I’m wrapping atowel around my wet hair in the girls’ bathroom when the door opens, and Kennedy appears in the mirror reflection.

“Hey,” I greet, securing the second towel around my body. When I see the pinched expression on her face, I frown. “Are you okay?”

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