Chapter Thirteen
I tapped my fingers on my desk. I couldn’t concentrate knowing he was sitting in the hall outside my lab. I ran our argument about it over and over in my head. Who did he think he was? I didn’t need a babysitter. I didn’t need him. He didn’t feel like it was safe for a woman to walk around campus in the dark by herself or be alone in a lab.
Maybe he had a small point, but I’d taken a self-defense course and I carried pepper spray. He argued I was more vulnerable now, being injured. Perhaps there was a shred of truth to that claim. I didn’t mind chivalry per se, but I had no use for it.
Just like I had no use for the delectable half-eaten piece of coffee cake sitting on my desk. I hadn’t tasted the coffee yet. A girl like me couldn’t get used to such luxuries. I didn’t have it in my budget to spend five to ten dollars a day on coffee. Water was good for you and free. The aroma of the coffee, though, was intoxicating, exactly like the maker of it.
I rubbed my hands over my face. I was supposed to come back to the lab this week rid of my demons. Instead, he’d followed me with his MacBook and personal hot spot so he could work. I refused to let him in the lab. My excuse was Sharon had to give permission. Which was mostly true. She trusted my judgment enough that I could have easily let him in, but that would have shown poor judgment. My hope was that he would see how foolish he was acting and leave. Or that the tile floor would be so uncomfortable he would give up and go home. I mean, he could be working with an ocean view. And he needed to be home fixing things with his family and the Clairborne. He assured me he could do both from here.
I sighed and pulled up some new research on genetic testing out of the Mayo Clinic while I simultaneously gave in and poured some of the coffee into the cup that acted as part of the lid of the thermos. My office smelled heavenly. The coffee itself was sinful; he had put butterscotch flavoring in it. Darn him for remembering how much I loved butterscotch.
What was I going to do? This is where girlfriends would have come in handy. Maybe I should get some. Too bad Jaycee and George would be living in Paradise. George’s family owned one of the marinas there. Jaycee wanted to get together when she got back from her honeymoon. I did too, but here in Mobile. Surely Porter would be back in California by the time Jaycee got back. How long of a “break” could he take? And who would do all the ski resort’s vlogs with gorgeous, partially dressed women?
I turned to my research and tried to immerse myself. I found myself reading sentences over and over again. A few times I almost got up to see if he was still there.
Around eight, some of the undergrad students started filing in. From my office, I could see Anna and Elle whispering conspiratorially to each other and looking back toward the door. Infatuation was rolling off them. That answered whether Porter was still there.
To make matters more interesting—or worse, depending on how you looked at it—ten minutes later, Sharon strolled in with a glow of mischief and an arrogant-looking Porter behind her.
I grabbed my crutches and stood up as fast as I could, which was frustratingly slow since I had been propping my foot up on a chair. Once I was up, I stood stunned as I watched Sharon lead Porter to one of the lab benches closest to my office. There he took a seat on a stool and set up his MacBook while Sharon chatted with him. Then they both turned my way and waved at me with light-year-size smiles through the glass windows I was surrounded by.
This wasn’t going to do.
What did I do? I felt immobilized.
Sharon and Porter laughed and talked like old friends for several minutes. I heard my name, but little else. This wasn’t good. I was about to go out there and ask Sharon for a ride home so Porter would see his services were no longer needed. Not that they were before, but I hadn’t been able to convince him of that yet. But I had a plan. Tomorrow, I’d get up earlier and sneak out the back entrance of my apartment building, which had probably seen its fair share of illegal activity, but it was the price I had to pay to ditch my ex-boyfriend.
When I reached my door, Sharon was already there. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought someone gave her a multi-million-dollar project grant, that’s how happy she looked.
She pushed her way right in. “Well,” her eyes darted toward my wrapped foot, “looks and sounds like you had quite the weekend.”
I glared at a smirking Porter through the window before I decided I might as well be sitting for this conversation. “You could say that.”
She laughed while placing the chair I was using to prop up my foot in a good spot. “You never mentioned Porter.”
“Why would I?”
She stood up straight and gazed out the window at him, fanning herself. “He is a fine specimen.”
“Remember Mel, your husband?”
She tore herself away from Porter and focused back on me, waving her hand. “Nothing wrong with admiring.”
“Right. By the way, I’ll get Andie’s dress dry cleaned and back to you as soon as I can.”
“Look at you, trying to change the subject.”
I grabbed my laptop and placed it on my lap. “I didn’t realize we were on a specific subject.”
“Of course not, because you always bring your boyfriends to work with you. I didn’t even know you had boyfriends.”
“I’ve dated, and Porter isn’t my boyfriend.”
She placed her hand on her chest and did that fake laugh thing. “Tyson, that adjunct professor at the community college, doesn’t count. He was using our lab for the equipment. Though it was nice that he brought you dinner a few times.”
I sat up indignantly—as much as my current circumstances would allow. “I never thought of Tyson that way.” In fact, I couldn’t wait until he finished his project. He reeked of barbecue chips and pickle juice.
“Then when was the last time you went on a date?”
I avoided her eyes. “It’s been a while.”
“Looks like that’s about to change.”
I shook my head. “Not with Porter,” I whispered.
She sat on the edge of my desk. Her bright brown eyes went from jocular to pitying. “Why not? From the brief conversation I had with him, it’s apparent he’s smitten with you. And obviously worried about you.” She paused. “I am too, if we’re being honest.”
My head popped up. “What? Why?”
Her gaze drifted in Porter’s direction, then back to me. “I’ve known you since you were eighteen. Only freshman I ever let in this lab. In all that time, not once have you talked about family or friends. I just learned more about you by talking to Porter in the hall than I have in the last seven and a half years. You live alone—in a sketchy part of town, I might add—or in this lab. And when I took you shopping last week, you acted as if it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.”
My eyes began to sting. My nasolacrimal glands were fired. I tried holding my breath to stave off the tears, but it was no use. “Have I disappointed you in some way? I thought you were pleased with my work and research.”
“Holland, listen to yourself. Life is more than work, much more.” She rested her hand on my head. She had never done anything like that before. “You’re brilliant. The work you’ve done here is amazing, but I would never forgive myself for continuing to enable your unhealthy habits.”
I shook her hand off my head, slack-jawed. No words could properly convey how shocked and, frankly, hurt I was. My habits made me successful.
She stood up in an authoritative manner. “You heard me right, Holland.” She sighed and did another glance between Porter and me. “I hate to do this, but it’s for your own good. Porter mentioned that his family has invited you to stay with them in Paradise while you recover. I’ve stayed at the Clairborne and it’s lovely. His family sounds nice too. You should go.”
I shook my head vehemently. “I can’t. I have too much work to do—”
She pursed her lips together in a stern fashion. “You’re not listening to me. I’m not giving you a choice. You aren’t a TA this semester and next week is spring break, and believe it or not, this lab functioned without you once upon a time. Please don’t make me threaten to kick you out of this program.”
My hand landed with a hard slap against my heart. “You wouldn’t.”
She closed her eyes and took a steady breath in and out. “If I thought it was what was best for you, I would.” Her eyes opened with a softer touch to them. “One of my jobs is to prepare you for life outside this lab, and I’ve failed there miserably. But no more.”
I tried to stand, but somehow the strength had been drained from me. “Please, Sharon. You have no idea what you’re asking. Porter . . .” I swallowed hard. “He—”
“Cares for you?”
“He left, and—”
“He told me,” she kept interrupting me. “He said it was the worse decision he ever made, but he had a lot of growing up to do. He’s looking pretty grown up now.”
“There’s more to the story,” I almost cried.
She rested her manicured hand on my cheek. “I’m sure there is, and you will have the next couple of weeks to work it all out. I don’t want to see any correspondence from you until spring break is over.”
Tears escaped and trickled down my cheeks. “Sharon,” I pleaded.
“Go have some fun. Heal your ankle . . . and more importantly, your heart. It’s obviously been scarred. And when you get back and want to talk about it—any of it—I’ll be here. But don’t come back until after you’ve had your time in Paradise.” She turned and walked away without another word.
She had no idea what she had just done.
Paradise was my hell.