“I think that went well,” Isla said as we got back into my SUV and headed home. “Auditing a class is a great way to get your feet wet, so to speak.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I’d really like to see if I can get in for real. I’d hate to take a class and not get credit for it. Especially if I do well.”
“You ordered that book for SAT prep, yeah?” she asked.
I nodded. “It should arrive today.”
“Great. We’ll start studying right away and I’m sure you’ll be ready by August.”
“What did you get on the SAT?” I asked curiously.
She dipped her head. “I got a perfect score. So did Ian.”
I scowled at her. “You guys suck,” I said, though I was kidding.
“I know. The lads say the same thing, though of course, SAT’s aren’t mandatory in the U.K. so they didn’t take them.”
“Well, I don’t want to stress myself out about any of this,” I said quietly, glancing at her. “I already have a great job and make a fuck-ton of money. If nothing comes of this, I’ve still got a good thing going. Besides, I have you now and maybe it’s not the time to make any other big changes, you know?”
“Technically, I don’t know how much of a change it will be having me in your life,” she said slowly. “I’ll be back in Edinburgh by the time hockey season starts up again.”
I cut a glance in her direction. “Definitely?”
“What do you mean, definitely? Am I definitely going back to work? Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because of me?”
17
Isla
Bloody hell.
I hadn’t been expecting to have this conversation now and he’d caught me completely off guard. I didn’t even know what to say, so I reached for his hand instead.
“Dax, we’ve only been together a month—you can’t expect me to just drop everything and move to Vegas, can you?”
“Expect it?” His voice was suddenly hard, a little edgy. “No. But want it? Be ready to talk about it? Start moving in the direction of figuring out how to make it happen? Yeah, I can.”
“I don’t even know if I can find a job doing what I do in the U.S. and—”
“You’re a scientist!” he snapped. “With a Ph.D. and teaching experience. Of course, you can.”
“In general, yes, but here in Vegas? I don’t have any idea what it would entail or if I’d have to do anything specific or if there’s even a position for me.” This was going to be our first argument. I could feel it in my gut and didn’t know how to stop it because I couldn’t fathom picking up and leaving Edinburgh just like that. I’d thought about it generically, perhaps well into the future, but now? It had never occurred to me he’d already shifted his thinking that way.
“But you didn’t say that,” he said, looking away. “You basically said I couldn’t expect you to drop everything and move.”
“I didn’t think we’d gotten to that point,” I said softly, staring out the window. “It’s all so new, Dax.”
“What did you think we were leading up to?” he asked. “A summer of sex, travel and rock and roll, and then see you next summer?”
“Well, no, but—”
“I don’t get you,” he interrupted. “We’ve had the conversation about how long we’ve both wanted this and now you’re acting like we just met a month ago. There’s almost five years of friendship, and two of those years we were pining for each other. This didn’t happen overnight.”
“I know.” I swallowed. I didn’t know what to say. I was in love with him, but this felt rushed and uncomfortable, as if—like he’d said—there wasn’t five years of friendship behind us. Why was I suddenly feeling like this had been a huge mistake? I also wanted to cry, which was unlike me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried, other than happy tears.
Neither of us spoke the rest of the way home and I went right to the kitchen when we got back to the apartment. It was only three o’clock but it felt like I needed a glass of wine.
“You want one?” I asked Dax, motioning to the bottle I’d pulled out.
“No, thanks.” He watched me almost warily and I took a drink before turning to him.
“You want to talk about this?” he asked quietly. He seemed more sad than angry, which made me sad as well.
“Yes. We should.” I lifted my eyes, reluctantly meeting his gaze, and what I saw there almost broke me. He was hurt and I’d hurt him. I loved him enough to hate myself for doing that, but the irony was that I wasn’t sure if I loved him enough to give up my career. Was that a mental sack of shit or what?
“You first,” he said, his dark eyes boring into mine.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t move,” I said slowly. “I just don’t see how I can do it now. I got my doctorate at twenty-three, which is fairly young, and I have a very prestigious position at the university. I teach and have grants that fund my research. I don’t know if I’m on the verge of anything earth-shattering, but if I walk away now, everything I’ve done the last four years will be for naught. If we get to the point that we want to be together forever, and I think it’s a bit soon to know that, I’ll have time to research all the options for moving to the States. The thing is, no matter what you decide to do professionally, it could be problematic for me.”
“In what way?” he asked.
“If you stay with hockey, there’s no guarantee, and it’s probably not even likely, that you’ll stay in Vegas. You’ll be twenty-eight next week. Assuming, let’s say eight more years of hockey, you could be moved five times.”
“Probably more like two, but yes, I could.”
“If
