That very moment when I fell in love with her.
"Penn? Are you coming?" my mother asked.
"In a minute," I said, turning back to the front door. "I have to make a phone call."
"If it's work, it can wait," my father advised.
"Nonsense," Alice said. "Whatever it is can wait until we've ordered at the very least."
I had no choice but to slide into the booth and listen to a novel length's explanation of the daily specials. When my father asked about the steaks, the waiter launched into a whole other spiel and I thought I might lose my mind.
"I really need to make a phone call," I said through gritted teeth.
My mother patted my hand. "I know, dear. If you're in such a hurry, you can order first."
"Ladies first," Xavier said. Then, after my mother ordered, he took forever to decide on what sides to have and what dressing would go best with his salad.
"I'll have whatever that first special was. Just the standard sides. No dressing," I snapped when the waiter turned to me.
His eyes widened slightly but he bowed. "Very good, sir. Enjoy the show. Your food will be out shortly."
I stood up from the booth so fast that the silverware jangled. "I just have to make a quick call," I lied. If I got Corsica on the phone and she didn't hang up with me, I knew the conversation could very well take all night. In fact, it would probably go better if it was face to face.
I was about to make my excuses and call for my car when the house lights dimmed and the stage lit up. A band shuffled on, looking relaxed and ready for a good show. My mother tugged me back into the booth. It was a good thing, too, because my legs turned to jelly.
After the musicians took their places, Corsica appeared on stage. She floated along looking like some figment of my desires in a perfect black dress and patent-leather pumps. Her hair was loose and spilled over her shoulders, glowing in the soft light of the spotlight. She looked at home, happy, and in her element.
The music swelled, and I stopped breathing. Stars burst along the corners of my eyesight before I could manage a shaky breath. Corsica opened her smiling mouth and sang the first verse of the song that had haunted me all through my trek across the desert.
I blinked and stopped breathing, then gasped for air. Corsica was either a mirage come to life or I had somehow gotten my wish. I wanted to talk to her face to face and there she was.
I stood up though my mother tried to stop me. The gravitational pull of Corsica in that spotlight was too strong. I had to be near her, I had to know she was real. I walked through the tables scattered around the small stage until I was standing directly in front of her.
She saw me and kept singing, each note drumming all of my doubts away.
I loved Corsica. That was it. That was all I could think and when the song ended and the whole restaurant paused to hear me address the angel in the spotlight, that was all I said.
"I love you."
Corsica apologized to her band and stepped down to face me.
I didn't even give her a chance to speak, the words tumbled out of me. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."
"So where have you been?" she asked, her eyes bright.
"It doesn't matter," I said, taking her hands. "Everywhere I go just leads back to you."
Then she smiled. "Ah, now we're getting somewhere."
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Epilogue
I ran down the beach as fast as I could, but even the punishing pace couldn't burn away the joy I felt. The beach house was more than my finish line. It was my home.
"What's your hurry?" Penn called from the deck. "Now that you're done with your morning run, we're going back to bed, right?"
I laughed despite my heavy breathing. "I thought you wanted to sleep in."
"Only with you." He caught me as soon as I stepped on the deck.
"Stop! I'm all sweaty!"
He nuzzled my neck and growled deep in his throat. "And, you taste delicious."
"No, really stop. We have to get ready. Today's the big day," I reminded him.
Penn didn't stop until his kisses made me lose track of all time. Then he leaned back and beamed down at me. "We can be late, can't we?"
I shook my head, though I was too content to leave his arms. "The ceremony can't start until we're there."
"I can't wait to walk you down the aisle," Penn said with another hungry kiss.
This time I did push him back, the bright ring on my finger glinting in the morning sun. "That's not until April. Today is all about your parents."
"Today is all about love, as my mother keeps reminding me. Surely, she'll understand if love is what makes us late."
I couldn't resist Penn any longer. I distracted him with a kiss and then lunged for the sliding glass door. "I'll race you to the shower."
He caught me halfway through the kitchen and I was overjoyed when those hard, tattooed arms closed around me. I looked up at him and wondered again how lucky I was.
Once we were done with assumptions, it was just us and we were so very happy.
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BAD PROFESSOR
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
© 2016 Claire Adams
CHAPTER ONE
Clarity
I heard my own heels clicking fast across the foyer floor. The next song came over the living room speakers and I breathed a sigh of relief. Addictive rhythms ran through the crowd and grabbed hold of both faculty and students. Other than the occasional tapping toe and slight bounce of the head, it was hard to see, but the party had hit the right tone.
Maybe party wasn't the right word. There was plaid tweed, too many khakis, and a wide array of sweaters. It was definitely an official Landsman College sanctioned gathering. The Dean of Students tried every year to introduce the Honor Council nominees to the faculty in a fun way. This year, fueled by a joke list of movies he was told to watch over the summer, Dean Dunkirk had announced a house party.
Students snuck beers or spiked lemonades in the prerequisite red plastic cups, while faculty drank aged wine or fine spirits out of the same. The music was a mash-up of classic acoustic guitar rock, and toned-down student favorites. I had even moved some of the furniture aside and made hang-out spots with over-sized throw pillows. Ping pong was a big draw on the back, three-season porch. Mason jars of tea lights added a simple elegance and the food was easy, grill-inspired finger foods.
Everything was perfect, and I searched for something to do. I imagined being a full-blown journalist and swept the collegiate crowd again in search of headlines. As I smiled and mingled, I wrote leads in my head.