“Let’s begin.”
CHAPTER5
Libby
“Not going to lie,my ovaries are working overdrive,” a girl in the row behind me said as she packed up her gear.
“Why is itso hotto see a man with a baby?” her friend asked.
That was the question. And I didn’t have a suitable answer. I stood, waiting for more students to pass so that I could get to Hudson.
“Hey, thanks for bringing the baby,” the girl from the row behind me said, a large smile breaking across her face. “I never knew I wanted that before this class.” She pointed toward Jamieson…Dr. Finch, who was still holding Hudson in the crook of his arm, swaying absently as a student asked him a question.
“Neither did I,” I murmured.
“What?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’m sorry I had to disrupt class—”
“Don’t be,” her friend said. “And good luck on the final. Though I guess you won’t really need it.”
I snorted. “We’llallneed help. The midterm was a beast.”
The girls looked at each other, then back at me. “Want to study together? We can come to your place. I mean, if you’re willing—”
“That would be great,” I said, smiling. “Give me your numbers, and we’ll work out a few times.”
* * *
“You seem in a better mood,” Dr. Finch said once I made it down the steps. He rubbed his cheek against Hudson’s head, an endearing gesture, before handing my son back to me.
“Yeah. The review was great, and I’m going to study with a few of the other students.” I grinned. “As you know, it’s easier to bounce ideas and such off others than to work it all out yourself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”
His demeanor was cool, detached. Unlike his kindness earlier tonight. I faltered, unsure what I’d done to make him so with me.
“I have somewhere to be,” he said, rather pointedly.
“Right. Sure.” I took Hudson from him and bent down, getting the sleepy little dude into his carrier. By the time I had him buckled in, Dr. Finch had packed up his bag and left.
I stood, blinking back the inexplicable tears, and started toward my typical exit at the top of the lecture hall. A few students remained, still chatting. One guy hurried forward and opened the door for me.
“I heard you’re doing a study session for the final,” he said.
“Um…”
“Think I could get in on that action? I definitely need some help with derivatives.”
“Sure.” I rattled off my number and the tentative day and time the girls. Hudson made a small cry. “I need to get him home.”
The guy nodded. “Mind if I tell my buddies?”
That’s how I ended up with seventeen grad students in my apartment with pizza boxes, soda and beer cans, pencils, papers, and eraser bits all over my living room for the next six days.
Yes, each day,allseventeen of the students showed up, including Sneer Girl and her mean friend.
I’d never been so relieved to complete a final.
