Page 69 of Ready or Knot

I cut her off with my lips on hers. “Nothing, Faedra. She hasn’t for a very long time.”

* * *

Faedra glances at me as I come down the stairs, adjusting my suit jacket and making sure my tie is tucked into my vest. She sets her tablet down on the counter, her throat moving with a swallow, and it cuts me to see her so unsure around me. I set the folder and my phone on the counter and step around her to the espresso machine, trailing my fingers along her waist as I go. Her breath catches, but a thread of her scent hits my nose.

“I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour,” I say once the machine is running. I turn to her, grabbing the edge of the counter as I lean against it. “Would you like to go for an early lunch? You wanted to see if the music place had that record delivered, right?”

We’d gone to a local music shop yesterday, and she’d picked out a vinyl record player. State of the art but designed to look vintage, with a white case and painted florals on it, I helped her set it up in her room. Her guarded look had faded over the course of the afternoon until I could manage a half decent breath again around the tightness in my chest.

She bites her lip. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” I say. “Just like yesterday. Whatever you want to do, alright?”

After a long moment, she nods. “You have a meeting?”

“With my department chair. It shouldn’t take long.”

Resignations rarely take more than a few minutes in reality. The longest part is fielding the follow-up questions.

“Alright,” she says after a while. Her hesitation fades as the minutes pass by, and I palm her neck. “There’s a shop a bit north that I’d like to visit. Maybe we could eat in one of the parks?”

She hums when I nod, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. The vise around my chest releases, and I take a deep breath, basking in her scent as she responds to my soft touches.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her lips. She shakes her head, twisting her fingers into the belt loops of my slacks, pulling me closer to her. Her kiss deepens, grows more insistent, and I let her, communicating what I can’t manage to put into words. She relaxes against me with a soft hum as I pull away, and relief rushes through me.

“I’ll be back soon,” I murmur, and she presses her hands into my stomach as she nods. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks flushed, and it’s so goddamn alluring that I almost ask Chris to postpone the meeting.

The stricken look Faedra had in the hallway flashes behind my eyes and resolve settles heavily in my stomach. The feel of her hands on me lingers as I step away, grab my things, and head to my car.

I spend the drive rehearsing, swallowing down the nerves that crowd my throat at the thought of losing everything I’ve worked for over the last decade. The nerves double once I’m actually standing in front of Chris’s office, the folder held loosely at my side. I triple check my phone and grimace when a text from Melanie flashes on the screen.

Blocking her number will be next.

Chris glances up from her computer when I knock on the door jamb, her gaze coasting over me and catching on the folder. Her mouth tightens, and her shoulders drop.

“Come in,” she says, standing and rounding the desk. “I’m assuming it’s important since it was such short notice.”

When I nod, she sighs and closes the door. I lean against the back of a chair when she stays standing in front of the door, her arms crossed.

Before I can hand her the letter, she asks, “Why? And don’t give me the normal general bullshit people say. We’ve worked together too long for that.”

I purse my lips, debating if I should be honest.

“You’re tenured and newly matched,” Chris says, stepping up to me. She’s even smaller than Faedra, barely coming to my chest, but the anger in her eyes has me taking a deep breath. “Something happened, and I want to know what it was.”

Honesty it is, then.

“You know of my history with Melanie Williams.”

When Chris nods, I offer the full story of yesterday.

“What else has happened? For how long?” Chris asks, rounding her desk and pulling a form from a drawer. “Would you be willing to submit a statement?”

Sighing, I lay out the last few years, detailing the dynamic. When she asks for more details, I offer them, pulling out my phone and scrolling through the messages, capturing screenshots and sending them to her when she asks. By the time I’m finished, I feel wrung out, bile sitting at the back of my throat. Chris goes through everything again before turning the paper to me so I can sign it.

The look on her face would make most people cower, but I find it comforting. I go to hand her the folder, and she shakes her head.

“I’m not accepting that yet. Give me a week to fix this. If you still want to give it to me then, I won’t stop you.” When I nod, she blows out a breath. “And I’d love to finally meet her, Jude.”

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