“Um… I just wanted to let you know Spencer was here,” she says finally, and very carefully.
I pull in a breath as I slide my computer out of my bag and set it on the desk.
“He tends to do that,” I say as I flip it open and hit the power button, trying to use this as a signal for her to fuck off. “Since he’s a student here.”
“Well, he was looking for you,” she says, taking a step closer. “He said you had a meeting.”
I pause for a moment. Fuck.
But I continue typing my password and keep my eyes fixed on the screen. “He knows my email.”
“He said he did email you. A couple times…”
The login screen clears, my inbox opens, and sure enough… There are three unread messages from Spencer.
My eyes skim over the preview of the first two, and my chest tightens.
Spencer Holwell
Subject: Meeting Today
Hi Dr. Cormier. I stopped by your office for our meeting, but you weren’t in. I’m just working on the final manuscript and have a question about…
Spencer Holwell
Subject: Question for Manuscript
Hi Dr. Cormier. I just wanted to follow up on my question about the decay rates and the figure. Once I have this done I should be good to submit…
Shit. Shit shitshit.
His deadline is Monday for his manuscript submission, and I’ve left him completely in the dark.
Fuck.
“Cade?”
I look up to see Omar standing in the doorway behind Annika, arms crossed and eyes fixed on me.
Annika’s eyes widen before she turns to him, then looks back at me like she’s scared for what she’s about to witness.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Omar,” I say flatly as I force my hand to stay on the keyboard instead of reaching for my mug.
“You missed a meeting with your grad student?” he asks in a way that’s a clear warning for me not to lie to him.
I blow out a breath and look down at my keyboard, clenching my jaw as I fight the urge to explode. I know what this looks like, and I know why he’s looking over my shoulder, but it’s one meeting.Onefucking meeting, and I can get Spencer in here today, and everything will be fine.
“Annika, excuse us, please,” Omar says quietly.
I glance up as she flashes me a look that lands somewhere between an apology, worry, and pity. Then she quickly turns and slides past Omar, disappearing into the hallway.
“It’s Tuesday, Omar, we have time,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes as I shift my gaze back to my computer. “His deadline isn’t until Monday. I’ll meet with him today?—”
“It’s Thursday.”
My eyes fly up to the corner of my screen on my laptop, where the date stares back at me.
