Face numb, mortification blazing, I nodded.
He climbed the stairs toward me. “And you’ve been here every session, not missing one, this entire semester…” He loomed closer, growing taller. I could make out the brown of his eyes behind his thick-framed spectacles. “While caring for an infant.”
He had a full day’s scruff gracing his chin…and a look of admiration on his face.
“No, sir,” I said. “I mean, yes, that’s correct.”
His eyes flared a little. He took in my appearance: leggings, an oversized sweatshirt, Converse. Typical college attire, nothing that should cause that flash of lust.
His gaze dropped to Hudson and his expression softened as he took in my baby, who had quieted as soon as I picked up his seat. He now stared up at Dr. Finch with as much interest as I felt.
Dr. Finch was a beautiful man. Probably fifteen years my senior, he had a few gray hairs threading through the light brown stands right at his temples. The beginnings of laugh lines feathered out from his eyes, and his lips were soft, pink…quirked up in a sardonic grin.
“You’re also the student who broke the curve, are you not? Libby Dagon.”
I flinched, glancing around as the bored stares turned into furious glares. I shot my own at Dr. Finch.
“Y-yes.” Shit.Whydid he mention that? I could almost feel all the students sharpening their pencils to stab me in the back.
“Hmmm. Well, give him to me.”
“What? No.” I clutched the car seat tighter to my stomach.
“We have a lot of material to cover, and he doesn’t like his seat. Not that I blame him much—who would want to be strapped down?” He held out his arm, eyes demanding. “I’ll hold him while I lecture. Don’t worry, I’ve done it before.” He said the last as an afterthought, like the explanation would soothe me.
My eyes popped wider, and my jaw dropped. “You want to—”
“If he gets too fussy, I’ll hand him back. But we have functions to sort out.”
My chest seemed to flatten and then expand, and I wasn’t able to right myself, so Dr. Finch took it upon himself to unlatch Hudson, who offered him a gummy grin and a soft gurgle.
“Aren’t you a delight?” Dr. Finch murmured at Hudson, smiling as he cradled my son in the crook of his arm. “Let’s do some differential equations, shall we?”
I returned to my seat, numb, stunned.
“Some girls areso lucky,” Sneer Girl said loudly as I settled back into my chair a row behind her.
“Actually, some students pay attention, go over notes, attend study groups, and I would guess review materials they don’t understand via the Internet or other local resources. I’m sure if you attempted that level of dedication, Aspen Omerich, you’d be passing the class instead of in my office crying about your grade,” Dr. Finch said as he passed Sneer Girl.
Sneer Girl, aka Aspen, gasped, her face flaming as brightly as mine had been moments before.
He put her in her place, and that feltgood. Even vicariously. I tried to keep in a smile small, but it broke free. Dr. Finch shot me a wink as he passed.
“How’d you get on his good side?” the guy sitting next to me asked, his voice quiet.
“I have no idea,” I mumbled back.
“She pays attention,” Dr. Finch called over his shoulder. “Now, let’s get to it.”
For the next hour, Dr. Finch worked through problem after problem, holding Hudson as he wrote on the whiteboard.
At the end of class, I fought through the exiting mass of bodies to get to my baby.
Dr. Finch returned him to my arms with a slight frown. “He’s a sweet bugger.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. “You didn’t have to—”
A smile crinkled the skin around his eyes. “I know I didn’t. But you know what else I know? How hard it is to single-parent and attend class. I can tell you I never had your grades while I was doing it.”
