“Agreed.” He strolled oh-so-casually to the guest chair Kate had vacated and took a seat.
The moment he looked up at her, Millie blurted, “Ty and I aren’t in a relationship.”
“All reports to the contrary?”
“Well, I mean, not a relationship-relationship.”
“More of a relationship then,” he commented mildly, imbuing the word with a mysterious third meaning with a slight change in inflection.
“Shut up.”
He laughed then, crossing one ankle over his knee and relaxing into the seat. “I couldn’t care less, Millie.” She started to say something, but he winced and held up both hands in surrender. “I mean, I care. You know, as a friend.” Looking less relaxed by the second, he leaned forward slightly. “As your boss. And his. Whatever.” He threw his hands up. “Tell me we can move past this point in the discussion.”
“We can move on,” she agreed with haste.
“Okay. Well, so you know, no big secret or anything. Other than the thing with Ty’s wife.” He cringed again. “Ex-wife.” He glanced back at the now-empty doorway where Kate had stood. “The alumni are still touchy about Danny. Up until now, Ty has been a favorite, but the publicity around Dante’s leaving school and Mari’s involvement… None of this is Ty’s fault, I know, but I don’t have to explain to you the powers of perception.”
“We’re going to shut this thing down.”
She must have said the words with enough conviction to convince Mike, because he uncrossed his legs and prepared to stand. “Good. Let me know what I can do to help.”
“We’re trying to keep everyone and everything related to the university out of the picture.”
“Best plan of all,” Mike said with an approving nod. “Keep me posted.”
The minute he left, she sagged in her chair. Letting her eyes slide shut, she focused only on her breathing. Air in, air out. In, out. Then she took a mental status report. Her skin felt too tight. The realization brought a ghost of a smile to her lips. Normally, a woman her age would welcome the taut feeling. But this wasn’t an “I feel pretty” kind of thing.
More like she was ready to burst at the seams. Stretched so tight she was tender. Parts of her felt bruised, even though she hadn’t a mark on her. Like someone had loaded her into a tumble dryer and flipped the switch.
A small laugh escaped her, and she opened her eyes.
Denial. She had a reservoir of the stuff buried deep inside her. This was the reserve she tapped into at about the mile-twenty mark. The one that pushed her through the wall. Her ability to spin crap into gold was her magic elixir. Her superpower.
She rolled her shoulders back and wriggled until she sat straight in the chair. No matter what anyone said or thought, she had a heart. The organ itself might be battered and somewhat hardened, but apparently, it was in full working order. And right now, it ached.
She glanced at her watch. Ty had planned to meet his attorney at eleven. She’d planned to sit in her office and wait until he texted or called with a progress report. One more way of standing back. Pretending she wasn’t in this. In love with him. And Kate was right. She wasn’t fooling anyone. Not even herself.
Sitting on the bench, waiting for news wasn’t enough anymore. Time to lace up her shoes and get into the game.
* * *
Millie found Ty slumped at a bus stop outside the lawyer’s office, his head back and his eyes fixed on something in the middle distance. Not wanting to startle him, she cleared her throat, then placed her ever-present tote on the bench beside him. “Is this seat taken?”
He smiled as he lifted his head, but his eyes remained dull and lifeless. “Hey.”
She dropped down on the bench, leaving the bag as a barrier in case she was tempted to crawl into his lap and wrap herself around him, though she knew any attempt at comfort could take a turn inappropriate for public consumption if she touched his sun-warmed skin. “So, did they kick you out?”
He tipped his face up to the sun. “I heard all I needed to hear.”
“Care to share with the class?”
He didn’t look at her. “Are you sure you want to get involved?”
The petulant challenge was weak, but she didn’t hold his pique against him. She’d jerked him back and forth on the topic enough to grant him some leeway. Taking a breath, she let it out slowly, then said, “I am already.”
Her assertion captured his full attention. “What if I find out I’m the father?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. The question was blunt enough to shake the pillar of denial she’d been building her hopes on. She forced a wobbly smile. “Well, I guess my answer depends on whether you intend to get back with your baby mama.”
“No.” He answered with such quick conviction the breath she’d been holding whooshed from her. “But I will be the baby’s father.” He paused. “I mean, if I am the father, I will be a real father to my child. I may be dealing with Mari. At least for the next twenty years or so.”
“Of course you’ll be a father to your child.” Reaching over her bulky bag, she took his hand and laced her fingers though his. “And you’ll be a great one.”
He laughed then. Rough and low. The kind of laugh so laden with disbelief, he couldn’t seem to get any air under it. He closed his eyes, but his grip on her hand tightened. When he looked at her again, his expression was pained. Millie ached to launch herself at him, public spectacles be damned. She wanted to smooth the lines away with her lips and fingers. She’d lock her lips on his and draw the bitterness out of him like snake venom. Which, in a way, it was.
“I dread telling my father. Is that pathetic?” His question pulled her out of
