Drew
Hey.
Before I can react, another text comes through.
Drew
I’ve been thinking about you since the other night. I miss you.
My mouth hangs open, and I’m not sure I’m breathing. Months ago, texts like this from Drew would’ve sent me into a tailspin. I would’ve responded immediately, telling him I missed him too, and a dozen texts later I’d be asking to see him again.
Now, I can barely hold the phone, and the sight of the texts makes me queasy.
“Gray? You okay?”
Ash’s voice jolts me back to reality, and I turn off the screen and shove the phone back into my clutch.
“Fine. It’s just my mother. She drives me a little nuts sometimes.”
“Who else do you have for family?” he asks. “Any siblings?”
“Just me,” I say. “Only child. My dad is still around too.”
“Did they see the news?”
“My mother’s friend saw it and told her, and I got a call wondering how I could be such a neglectful daughter and not tell her about my famous new boyfriend.”
“And you said?”
I shrug. “I was busy with classes and just didn’t have time to tell her.”
“And that worked?”
“Of course not. I owe her dinner and a full accounting of our relationship thus far.”
He chuckles. “I haven’t heard from my parents and sisters yet, but they’re used to me forgetting to tell them things like who I’m dating. It’s not the first time they’ll learn about my love life online.”
“Or your fake love life?” I offer with a half-smile.
He doesn’t speak right away. “Right,” he says finally, but his smile seems strangely forced.
The rest of the ride is comfortable enough. I learn that one of Ash’s sisters is older and the other is younger. The older one works in corporate law, while the younger is finishing up an MBA, and according to Ash, they taught him everything he knows about feminism.
Someone had. People sometimes think I’m being pretentious whenthey call me “Miss” and I correct them with “Dr.,” but women faculty members are far more likely to be misaddressed than our male counterparts. None of my male colleagues get called “Mr.” They all get addressed as “Dr.” or at least “Professor,” but my female colleagues are frequently addressed as “Miss,” “Ms.,” or “Mrs.,” even if they aren’t married. It’s just disheartening when you’ve gone through the same schooling as everyone else and published a dissertation to not have that achievement acknowledged based on gender.
It meant a lot that Ash insisted the reporters refer to me by my title, and I add yet another item to the pile of reasons it would be entirely too easy for me to fall in love with him.
They’re starting to overshadow the myriad reasons I can’t.
Chapter 17
Gray
We pull up to the restaurant twenty minutes later, and valets hurry to open the doors of the car for me and Ash. He slips both of them some money before he threads his fingers through mine and leads me inside to the maître d’.
I feel like royalty as we enter the lavish restaurant. Celena is right. Fake or not, I need to enjoy the hell out of this while it lasts.
Ash’s hand rests on the small of my back as the maître d’ leads us to an upper level with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the water. The upper half of the windows and parts of the sides are made of stained glass in abstract designs of blue, green, and purple that are lit from outside and must look absolutely incredible when the sun is still out.
