Page 37 of Olivia’s Only Pretending (Sweet River #3)

Twenty-Six

E arly Monday morning, I had an unexpected email from Dean Oates in my inbox with a request for a meeting with her when I made it into the office.

Dean Oates, the head of our department, wanted to meet with me right away?

I scanned the email for any clue I could find to determine what this meeting was about, but she’d given no other details, only an invitation to meet when I got to campus.

She’d popped into my office casually sometimes, and we’d had pre-scheduled meetings, but a random email requesting to see me right away wasn’t normal.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry, as I tried to focus on getting ready for the day. I sleeked my hair back into a ponytail, threw on a black cardigan, and grabbed a bagel, holding it between my teeth, as I juggled my tote and keys on my way out the door.

I didn’t bother putting on a podcast or audiobook to distract me during the drive. Instead, I wallowed in my anxious thoughts about every possible reason Dean Oates might want to meet with me so urgently.

Maybe it was something good. Maybe she wanted to discuss my upcoming class. Maybe she was making an effort to meet with the faculty more.

Or maybe I was out of a job. I couldn’t help but feel a slow-building sense of foreboding.

The bagel I had for breakfast sat like cement in my twisted stomach the entire drive to campus.

“ D ean Oates asked me to make sure you head over to her office after you arrived,” Sonny greeted me as I whisked past her desk.

I shot her a thumbs up before dumping my stuff on my desk. I took a steadying breath, imagining Victor’s warm hands around my shoulder, just the way we practiced. I can handle however the meeting goes. Good or bad.

Dean Oates greeted me with a soft smile after I knocked on her office doorway. “Come in, come in.” She gestured toward the burnt orange chair across from her desk. “I’ve been wanting to touch base with you.”

“You have?” I asked, trying to keep my voice professional and calm. I took a seat.

“I want to really discuss your future here at the school. I know you’re taking on a new class.

You have a lot of ideas we’ve briefly touched on.

” She swallowed, shuffling through a stack of papers on her desk.

“But before we can start there, I do have a few questions about things that were recently brought to my attention.”

“I’d love to answer any questions you have,” I said, scooting to the edge of the chair.

“Well, are you familiar with our rules and regulations regarding relationships between professors and students?”

“Yes, of course,” I replied, caught off guard. Relationships between professors and students? My mind raced. Did this refer to my book club with the students? Was it too close, too casual?

“We have a strict policy against romantic relationships,” she said, an edge to her voice.

“I’m confused,” I stuttered. I’d never had a romantic … anything , with any students.

She cleared her throat and leveled me with a gaze. “It was brought to my attention that you are dating a student, Dr. Rhodes.”

My jaw dropped. Of all the ways I imagined this meeting going, being accused of dating a student, which was a big no-no in our faculty rules and regulations, was not one of them.

“I’m not dating a student. I’ve never dated a student and would never date a student,” I said firmly. “I don’t know who is saying otherwise, but they’re entirely mistaken.”

A groove appeared between her eyebrows.

“You’ve met the man I’m dating, or might be dating,” I stumbled over my words for a moment, “at the department dinner a few weeks ago. His name is Victor. He is not a student.”

A memory flashed through my mind: Ryan accusing Victor of being a student following me around, as a way to belittle him. He wouldn’t start this rumor, would he?

“I do remember meeting him.” Her shoulders dropped, the tension in the room melting away.

“I didn’t want to believe you would do something like that, but I’m also not one to let the education and care of our students be compromised in any way.

If a matter is brought up to me, I have to face it head-on. ”

“I can assure you. Someone was sorely mistaken.” I placed a hand on my chest. “The education and care of our students is my biggest priority, too.”

She gave me a small smile. “I see that in you. You’re one of our best professors. I know the students love you. Our whole department loves you.”

I felt my breathing regulate for the first time all morning. “I really care about our students.”

She cleared her throat, then with a smile said, “Let’s talk about the next steps for your class. I know you’ve been considering taking on Dr. Lewis’s course idea, and I think that’s a fine idea. We’ve wanted to offer that course for a while.”

There it was, an easy route I could take: avoid putting myself out there, avoid the chance of making things more complicated or difficult, avoid any chance of rejection. I could nod along and teach a course already approved by the department.

It would make Dr. Oates happy. And it didn’t mean I would never explore my own ideas. I would just postpone a little while longer until I had more seniority.

Until the timing felt safer.

“Dr. Lewis’s course sounds great …” I began but stopped.

The same part of me that cracked open to my mom and Lucy last night cracked open again.

My real, honest feelings pushed to the surface.

“But I actually have an idea for a class that I think our students would love. I got the idea from our campus book club.”

Her eyes lit up. “This sounds interesting. Tell me more.”

I took an excited breath before digging into the details of what I envisioned. My stomach fluttered as we spoke. We spoke at length. She got as excited as I did and helped answer even my smallest questions or doubts.

Before I left her office, she said, “I’ve seen your passion for your students and have been waiting to hear what you had up your sleeve, Dr. Rhodes.”

A fter my successful meeting, I was too giddy to stay indoors.

I stumbled outside for a breath of fresh air.

It was cool and crisp outside, with the sun hiding behind thick gray clouds.

I walked down the sidewalk toward my favorite tree.

Its leaves were shades of gold and red. I sank down to the ground, resting my head against the rough trunk, and closed my eyes.

A breeze rustled the leaves and brought goose bumps across my skin.

My meeting had gone so well. She’s been wanting unique classes like the one I had on my mind. She was hoping my class was just the first of many like it. A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth.

I reached for my phone—an urge to share the news. On pure instinct, I pressed on Victor’s contact.

He’d been the one encouraging me to chase my passion, my inspiration, whatever it was I really wanted.

My finger hovered over his contact.

A few students plopped down beside me, unzipping their backpacks and pulling out thick textbooks for a study session. Chit chatting about an upcoming test that seemed like it was going to be painful . I got up so they could have the whole spot by the tree to themselves.

I wasn’t ready to go back to the office yet. I wandered over to the bulletin board I’d shown Victor weeks ago, when he accompanied me on that first date. I eyed the pinned-up anonymous love notes.

Some of them were old, the edges faded, and I’d nearly memorized them after all these years.

There were a few new ones now, though. I read the one on the upper right corner:

Dear Ivy, your blue eyes are brighter than the sky. Love, your secret admirer.

Another beside it read,

Dear Sutton, I like your laugh and the way you think. Want to get a drink?

My eyes dropped to a yellow sticky note I hadn’t seen before on the bottom of the board. It was in Latin—my favorite language. The note already had me smiling.

The greeting and signature were both in English.

Dear Pretend GF,

Quid non est pretensione? Quantum ego te desidero.

Your Pretend BF

My breath caught in my chest. I mulled over the words in my head.

Dear Pretend GF, What’s not pretend? How much I miss you. Your pretend BF

I knew that handwriting. I knew that pretend boyfriend who’d been studying Latin for me. This was from Victor.

He’d come by campus just to leave a little note on my favorite bulletin, respecting me and my requested space by not showing up in my office or blowing up my phone, but still finding a small way to show up for me.

To make me smile.

And in Latin. I could imagine him working with his Latin dictionary and Google Translate to find a way to string this message together.

It was definitely against the unspoken rules of the bulletin board, but I tore the note down. Holding it in my fingers, I imagined him pinning it up for me, his dark hair falling in his eyes as he found a free corner of the board to hang it.

I snapped a photo on my phone, tears pooling in the corners of my eyes. I typed up a message with the photo for Victor.

Me

Found this today! When were you on campus?

I headed back toward my office, not watching where I was going as I hit the send button and bumped into someone. “Sorry,” I said, glancing up to realize it was my student, Chloe.

“Dr. Rhodes.” Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Fancy meeting you here.” She waved a pink paperback book in front of me.

I took in the group of girls sitting on the steps of the arts building with the book in their hands.

“We’re having an impromptu book club meeting!” Ashley said, sitting cross-legged on the bottom step, her white Converse had Sharpie hearts scribbled on the top. “We’ve had a lot of thoughts while reading this one and needed to discuss stat.”

I chuckled.

Ashley’s eyes dropped to the yellow note in my hand. “Is that from the bulletin board?”

I looked down at the note. “Oh, yeah, it is. It was left for me, though, so I think I’m allowed to take it.”

“I saw that one this morning,” Chloe said, then her cheeks went pink. “I’m a hopeless romantic, so I might check the anonymous love note board every morning while I walk to class.”

“Me, too,” another student admitted.

“Wait, wait.” Ashley held up a hand. “Who is leaving you notes in Latin?”

I chewed on my lip, thinking through my words. I could roll past it and say a friend of mine posted an inside joke. Or …

“Someone I’ve been afraid to admit I’ve fallen in love with,” I confessed, and then the story of Victor and me came tumbling out as if something that was wound tight in me had become completely undone.

The students listened, enraptured, peppering in their “oohs” and “ahhs” and shaking their heads in judgment when I told them about how I asked for a pause.

“A third act pause?” Ashley said, covering her face with her palm. “Dr. Rhodes, the agony.”

“And then, I found this.” I handed over my note, and they passed it around. “I just sent him a message about it.”

“Has he replied to your text?” Chloe asked, holding the note in her hands.

I stole a peek at my phone. “Not yet.”

“It’s Victor. You know he will,” Ashley assured me, as if she really knew him after my long story.

The sky was gloomy and gray overhead. I felt a light sprinkle of rain falling on us. “I know he’ll reply. I’m mostly worried about what comes next. What do I say now? How do I … un-pause?”

“You’re a romcom reader.” Chloe tapped her book. “You know what you’re supposed to do next. It’s time to get your man.”

A smile broke across my face. “ It’s time to get my man, huh? Well, I’ll have to get him after the conference in a couple hours.” I glanced at my watch, knowing it was time to get back to my office and use the time I had left to finish preparing for the conference.

A knot formed in my stomach knowing Victor wouldn’t be in the audience, and that was my fault.

I checked my phone again as I walked into my office—still no reply.