—E
Before I’ve even set my phone down again, the apppingswith another notification.
Set up another date then. More intimate. We’ll be in touch soon. xx
I groan audibly. Nothing about spending time with Matthew Ruehlman is easy, especially when I have an agenda beyond just getting to know him. I don’t reply to the email, but spend a moment considering if I should text Matt and thank him for a great date. I decide to wait until morning. I don’t want to appear too eager.
I set my phone back on my nightstand, thinking about my absent husband and how our marriage has gotten to such a deteriorated state. Then I blink away the tears forming in my eyes, thinking maybe one more glass of wine will help me sleep. Maybe I should treat myself to a mental health day tomorrow and book an appointment at the day spa on East 22nd Street. I could even bring lunch to Jack at the office like I did when wewere first married. But then I think that’s just another example of me overextending and him taking, taking, always taking.
I suck in a deep breath and wipe at more tears welling in my eyes. My phone chooses that moment to alert me with another text message. I smile, thinking it’s probably Aubrey again. But when I pick up the phone something else awaits me.
You looked so beautiful today. I almost said hello.
A shiver of terror races through me as I reread the text message. Should I reply? Tell Jack? Call the police? The tears flow then, wetting my cheeks as frustration and fear flood my system. Helplessness weighs on my shoulders and for the first time I think I can’t trust anyone. Who is watching? Who has my number? And why?
Fourteen
Ellie
“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” Matt says. He walks at my side, his shoulder brushing mine every few steps as we approach the shoreline of the lake in Central Park. We’re only a few hundred yards from the busy city sidewalks, but it feels like a world away.
I lean in a little too close to him, smiling when he looks down at me. “I’m always up for a walk in the park with you.”
“It’s been a rough day—I had to kick a student out of my lecture for being disruptive. She kept accusing someone in the department of...” he trails off, as if thinking of his next words carefully. “Well, it doesn’t matter.” I remain quiet, hoping he’ll reveal more. “It’s always hard when a student isn’t fully applying themselves, but come on, it’s ColumbiafuckingUniversity. Show up or go home, ya know?”
“Have you had to remove someone before?”
“A few times. And then I get calls from the parents and inevitably have to meet with administration. It’s not a light decision but sometimes a necessary one.”
I place an open palm on his shoulder and rub at the tensionthat’s visibly overtaken him.
“Hey,” he says, catching my hand and threading our fingers together, “what do you say we grab some takeout and go back to my place? I have a great view of the park from my apartment.”
“Okay,” I smile, always eager to please. I wonder briefly how a professor at Columbia can afford an apartment with a view of the park, but I don’t ask questions. The email from The Society instructed me to arrange a more intimate date and this feels like the perfect opportunity. He’ll be more comfortable on his own turf—maybe I can get him to open up and reveal something that I can bring to Kat.
Matt pulls out his phone, taking a few moments to order a selection of food from his favorite Indian restaurant before we walk in the direction of the Upper East Side. I’m eager to see his place and find out a little more about him. Butterflies fill my chest as we near 5th Avenue—as soon as we exit the park together this thing between us becomes something else. Another layer of intimacy that can’t be taken back. I’m not sure I’m ready for what might come next, but then, going back to my dull life before The Society feels unthinkable too.
Fifteen minutes later we reach his building just in time to meet the delivery guy with our food. I take a few deep breaths as we ascend in the elevator, nerves pummeling my system as we walk down the hallway with the scent of tikka masala in the air. I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat as Matt punches in the passcode and the door to his apartment swings open.
“Don’t be nervous.” He chuckles as he sets the bag of takeout down on the kitchen counter.
“Is it that obvious?” I sit on the barstool at the marble kitchen island, working my hands back and forth as he takes down plates from the cupboard.
“You don’t have a very good poker face.” He grins, then twists the cork from a bottle of red wine. He fills two stemless glasses, then pushes one to me before opening the containers of food.
“How was your day today?” he finally asks as he sits down beside me.
“It was okay—I thought about taking a spa day, but the more I relax and unwind the less I want to go back to work,” I admit.
He nods, “I hear that. Even on the weekends I’m always reading essays or working on lesson plans. Everyone thinks being tenured is an easy ride, but the pressure is a lot sometimes.”
I shift on my barstool as I think how his tenured position has protected him from prosecution for his crimes, but I can’t dwell on that fact. I need a clear head if I’m going to make this man pay.
“Do you ever get away from the city for the weekend?” I take a sip of my wine, enjoying the way it warms my system almost instantly.
“Why?” he asks as he spoons food onto our plates.
I shrug. “To decompress, I guess.”
