Nora didn’t try to speak again. She wasn’t actually sure if she could.
“And you kicked me out. For Søren. You made me leave after living with you for a year and a half. After doing your dishes and cooking your meals and cleaning up your office and carrying you to bed after you passed out from either too much wine or too much writing…or both…I was gone. As if all that meant nothing to you.”
Finally, Nora found her voice. “It meant everything to me. I just…Wesley…” She closed her eyes to obliterate the stars. “You were eighteen years old the day I met you.”
“Seventeen.”
“What?”
“I was seventeen. Birthday’s in September, remember? I turned eighteen during the second week of classes.”
Nora pressed her hand to her stomach. “Seventeen…not even old enough to vote. Seventeen the day I met you, the first day of class. Kingsley called me that morning. I was hungover and on top of Griffin Fiske when the phone rang. One of Kingsley’s best clients was the academic dean of your old school.”
Wesley laughed coldly. “I didn’t want or need to know that.”
“You need to know this. Kingsley called me and ordered me to Yorke, to your school. The guy who was supposed to teach that freshman creative-writing class had a heart attack. They need a sub…I mean, a substitute. I was the one writer they could get on such short notice. God, that was a f**king awful morning. Fighting with Kingsley about the job, fighting with Griffin about how I’d never let him top me, half-sick from a few too many shots the night before…and then my old editor at Libretto sent me seventeen pages of changes on my book. Seventeen f**king pages. I told her she had me confused with Nora Roberts—I wrote smut. I got my six hard f**ks in the book. Take it or leave it.
“Bad day. Very bad day. All I wanted that day…all I desperately f**king wanted, was Søren. I ached for him. He would have made all the bad stuff go away. Had I been his that morning, he would have put the fear of God in Griffin, told Kingsley to find someone else, told me to shut up and do whatever my editor told me to do, and then he would have stripped me naked, put me into bed, pressed his beautiful naked body to mine and held me until I fell asleep and woke up human again.”
“I don’t want to hear this. I don’t—”
“Wesley, just listen. The day I met you started out horrible. So horrible all I wanted was to give up on the life I’d made for myself, and go back to Søren and live at his feet. You think he’s terrifying and dangerous. The truth is I was never safer than I was when I was with him. And when I left him…things got scary and they got ugly and they got hard. Some days I loved working for Kingsley. Some days I would nearly puke in my car after a session with a client who paid me to do things no one should have ever done, not for love or money. I was ready to do it, to go back to Søren. I was going to call him…that day. I’d go to your school and check out this stupid class, raise some hell in the hopes that they’d show me the door, and then I was going to call him and ask if I could meet him at the rectory. And once there, I’d give him my collar, get down on my knees and beg him to take me back. That was the plan. And it would have happened. No doubt in my mind. Except for one thing.”
Wesley tore his eyes from the night sky and looked at her.
“What?” he whispered.
Nora smiled.
“I saw you.”
Finally, Nora silenced Wesley.
“I saw you, my Wesley. And I just…forgot. I forgot I was going to go back to him. Totally slipped my mind. And for the rest of that day, after that first class, you were all I could think of. Those big brown eyes of yours and that smile and the way you looked at me like…like—”
“Like I’d never seen anything like you before and didn’t think I ever would again, so I better not take my eyes off you for one second.”
“Yeah.” Nora sighed. “Just like that. And I didn’t even remember to go back to Søren the next day. Or the next. I had you. Remember all those lunches we had in the cafeteria at Yorke? All those looks we got?”
“They couldn’t believe I was having lunch with my hot writing teacher and bringing my Bible with me.”
“Those were some good debates we had. I’m still sad, though, that I never converted you to liberation theology.”
“Too Methodist. Sorry.”
Nora laughed. Then the laugh faded and died. “You said you thought you’d have to leave Yorke. Scared the hell outta me. That’s why I asked you to move in.”
“I only said that hoping you’d say something about missing me. Winter break was coming up. I just wanted your phone number.”
“Well, you got that and then some.”
“More than I ever dreamed I’d get.”
“But still not enough?” Nora met his eyes and tried to smile.
Wesley rested his forehead against hers for the barest second. “That might be one of those questions you shouldn’t ask.”
“Wes, I…” And nothing. Nothing else came out. No words could heal the hole she’d bored in his heart.
“I’m going to bed,” Wesley said as he stepped back and away from her. “It’s late. I’m sorry I brought you down here. We should have stayed up north somewhere. I just wanted you to see my world. But it’s not as pretty as I thought it was.”
“You’re here. And that makes this beautiful country.”
“And you kicked me out. For Søren. You made me leave after living with you for a year and a half. After doing your dishes and cooking your meals and cleaning up your office and carrying you to bed after you passed out from either too much wine or too much writing…or both…I was gone. As if all that meant nothing to you.”
Finally, Nora found her voice. “It meant everything to me. I just…Wesley…” She closed her eyes to obliterate the stars. “You were eighteen years old the day I met you.”
“Seventeen.”
“What?”
“I was seventeen. Birthday’s in September, remember? I turned eighteen during the second week of classes.”
Nora pressed her hand to her stomach. “Seventeen…not even old enough to vote. Seventeen the day I met you, the first day of class. Kingsley called me that morning. I was hungover and on top of Griffin Fiske when the phone rang. One of Kingsley’s best clients was the academic dean of your old school.”
Wesley laughed coldly. “I didn’t want or need to know that.”
“You need to know this. Kingsley called me and ordered me to Yorke, to your school. The guy who was supposed to teach that freshman creative-writing class had a heart attack. They need a sub…I mean, a substitute. I was the one writer they could get on such short notice. God, that was a f**king awful morning. Fighting with Kingsley about the job, fighting with Griffin about how I’d never let him top me, half-sick from a few too many shots the night before…and then my old editor at Libretto sent me seventeen pages of changes on my book. Seventeen f**king pages. I told her she had me confused with Nora Roberts—I wrote smut. I got my six hard f**ks in the book. Take it or leave it.
“Bad day. Very bad day. All I wanted that day…all I desperately f**king wanted, was Søren. I ached for him. He would have made all the bad stuff go away. Had I been his that morning, he would have put the fear of God in Griffin, told Kingsley to find someone else, told me to shut up and do whatever my editor told me to do, and then he would have stripped me naked, put me into bed, pressed his beautiful naked body to mine and held me until I fell asleep and woke up human again.”
“I don’t want to hear this. I don’t—”
“Wesley, just listen. The day I met you started out horrible. So horrible all I wanted was to give up on the life I’d made for myself, and go back to Søren and live at his feet. You think he’s terrifying and dangerous. The truth is I was never safer than I was when I was with him. And when I left him…things got scary and they got ugly and they got hard. Some days I loved working for Kingsley. Some days I would nearly puke in my car after a session with a client who paid me to do things no one should have ever done, not for love or money. I was ready to do it, to go back to Søren. I was going to call him…that day. I’d go to your school and check out this stupid class, raise some hell in the hopes that they’d show me the door, and then I was going to call him and ask if I could meet him at the rectory. And once there, I’d give him my collar, get down on my knees and beg him to take me back. That was the plan. And it would have happened. No doubt in my mind. Except for one thing.”
Wesley tore his eyes from the night sky and looked at her.
“What?” he whispered.
Nora smiled.
“I saw you.”
Finally, Nora silenced Wesley.
“I saw you, my Wesley. And I just…forgot. I forgot I was going to go back to him. Totally slipped my mind. And for the rest of that day, after that first class, you were all I could think of. Those big brown eyes of yours and that smile and the way you looked at me like…like—”
“Like I’d never seen anything like you before and didn’t think I ever would again, so I better not take my eyes off you for one second.”
“Yeah.” Nora sighed. “Just like that. And I didn’t even remember to go back to Søren the next day. Or the next. I had you. Remember all those lunches we had in the cafeteria at Yorke? All those looks we got?”
“They couldn’t believe I was having lunch with my hot writing teacher and bringing my Bible with me.”
“Those were some good debates we had. I’m still sad, though, that I never converted you to liberation theology.”
“Too Methodist. Sorry.”
Nora laughed. Then the laugh faded and died. “You said you thought you’d have to leave Yorke. Scared the hell outta me. That’s why I asked you to move in.”
“I only said that hoping you’d say something about missing me. Winter break was coming up. I just wanted your phone number.”
“Well, you got that and then some.”
“More than I ever dreamed I’d get.”
“But still not enough?” Nora met his eyes and tried to smile.
Wesley rested his forehead against hers for the barest second. “That might be one of those questions you shouldn’t ask.”
“Wes, I…” And nothing. Nothing else came out. No words could heal the hole she’d bored in his heart.
“I’m going to bed,” Wesley said as he stepped back and away from her. “It’s late. I’m sorry I brought you down here. We should have stayed up north somewhere. I just wanted you to see my world. But it’s not as pretty as I thought it was.”
“You’re here. And that makes this beautiful country.”
