Page 49 of Prosecco with My Professor
The anticipation doesn’t abate, and I do it again in the morning before I head to campus. Emma is flying back, and I have meetings all day to prepare for the third term.
During the meetings, though, I’m distracted. So distracted that Vincente has to nudge me at the end of the meeting with the director. Snapping back into focus, I realize that everyone’s rising and grumbling.
Shit. What did I miss?
I follow Vincente out and fall in beside him.
“I would not want to be Greco right now.” Vincente shakes his head.
“Me neither,” I agree, casting my mind back to remember what the topic of conversation had been before I’d gotten distracted. Something about the ski trip? Or one of the other club activities?
Vincente peers at me. “You have no idea what just happened, do you?”
I sigh, and Vincente shakes his head. “I don’t understand what’s up with you lately. If I was single, I would have killed to take Anna home. And when was the last time we went out for a drink?”
“You’re the one with two teenagers and a wife,” I point out. His son has been having some behavioral trouble, so it’s not like Vincente has been keeping up his end of our friendship, either.
“Exactly. I could use a couple nights out with my best friend.”
“So, what did Greco do?”
“He announced that a sponsor for the Ski Cup dropped out.”
The Ski Cup was one of the main social events of the year where MBA programs met, typically in the Alps, for friendly competition and networking. I grimace. I have never been a big skier, but it’s always been a popular event with the students.
Vincente and I chat more but part ways at my office. The sponsorship issue reverberates in the back of my mind for the rest of the morning, which is good because it distracts me from thoughts of Emma for a while.
Until my phone buzzes on my desk, and I glance at it. A text pops up on the screen.
Emma
Just landed. Still on?
This constant checking to make sure I haven’t changed my mind makes me chuckle and brings me back to my plans for the rest of the day. I text back immediately.
Santo
100%, piccola.
Emma
Just checking. :) See you soon.
I hurry to pack my bag and escape my office before anyone else can intercept me and put my mind anywhere other than Emma.
Back at home, I give Zola my undivided attention for ten minutes and then tidy up my apartment. I keep my work clothes on but shed my jacket and roll up the sleeves of my dress shirt. I have a glass of wine while I work, an oaky white that Bell got me for Christmas.
The knock on my door is early, but it’s Emma on the other side. She’s wearing the dress from that first night I met her, light makeup on her face and her hair braided over one shoulder.
“Hi,” she says, cheeks flushed already. “I’m early, I kno?—”
I tug her in by the hand, close the door, and press her against it. Her eyes are wide and bright, and I cradle her face in my hands. Nerves glimmer just beneath the surface of her gaze, and I vow to make this so good for her.
“I’m glad,” I say, and then I kiss her.
24
Emma
