Page 73 of Prosecco with My Professor
38
Santo
It takes a few days,but Emma gets her schedule changed, and for the first time, I don’t have her in my lectures, but we are spending more time than ever together. Ironically, I get more work done, making more progress on my book while I stay up late waiting for Emma to finish studying and come over. Sometimes, I message asking if she’s had dinner yet, and when she suggests ordering dinner, I cook for her instead.
For the first time since that night months ago when I met Emma, I feel like I can be myself around her. I enjoy making her laugh and blush and then chasing that blush across her skin with my lips.
Zola has even started waiting for Emma by the door. She still snoozes on my chest in the evenings, but curling up with us in bed at night is new.
Bell comes over for dinner one night with Emma and me. Emma chooses her concentration for the next phase of the program—luxury business management. I feel good enough to start playing football again. Everything is going well, domestic, even.
Emma goes to London with her friends for the weekend near the end of the fourth term. She’s taken to studying at my place, and with her gone, it feels empty when I’m home. I call Vincente to see if he wants to come over and watch a match.
It’s Roma versus Lazio, and while Vincente doesn’t play like I do, he follows Roma closely. We cheer and shout at the TV, and Zola hides up in the loft. Roma wins, of course, and after finishing his beer, Vincente puts his jacket on and heads for the door.
He stops as he’s passing the kitchen island, though, and peers at something on the counter.
My heart races when I realize what he’s looking at. Emma left some of her work on my counter. This morning, I’d stacked it up to the side, but the spiral notebooks are open to her wide and messy handwriting.
Vincente looks at me, and his hands slow as he zips his jacket. “What is this?”
I don’t want to lie to Vincente any more than I have to, but in this, I’m caught. I rub my hand over my beard. “Emma left those behind and I am returning them to her.”
“Left them behind where?”
“Vincente.”
He crosses his arms. “I noticed she’s not in any of your courses this term. Does that make you feel better about it?”
“I don’t–”
“Don’t lie to me again,” he says, voice cutting. “Actually, I’ll make it easier for you not to lie to me right now.” Vincente turns and walks out my door.
When Emma gets home, I tell her about the incident.
“Are you worried? Should we do something?”
I run my hand through my hair. “Technically, the university doesn’t have rules on relations. Italy doesn’t have Title IX like the US does, and all we have is a vague ethics policy. I should have said something, probably.” Ever since Vincente left, this has been gnawing at me, and it probably should have been gnawing at me sooner than that. I’ve just been too damn happy.
“Santo,” Emma says gently. “I didn’t expect to be here, and neither did you. None of this was expected, and I haven’t, at any point, felt like you abused your position.”
We let it go, and another week goes by. I barely see Vincente, but this isn’t the first time he’s been mad at me, so I just hope that it’ll blow over soon. Being with Emma makes it easy to think about other things.
So, when Director Greco calls me into his office, I think it’s going to be a conversation about my book or an update on fundraising.
Instead, when I enter his office, there’s a woman from our HR department in attendance, and Greco tells me to have a seat. He leans in, steepling his fingers.
“Santo, your contract with the university is terminated, effective immediately.”
39
Emma
I’ve been calledto the principal’s office. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. I got an email during my third class telling me to see Director Greco immediately after class. Of course, that means I spend the rest of my Digital Strategy class distracted, wondering what I could be meeting with the director for.
Is this about my concentration selection? I’d chosen the Luxury Business Management route. I don’t know much about luxury brands when it comes to clothes or jewelry, but even back when I’d been working with Bruce, I’d known in my gut that we could drive a higher market price and that product scarcity would work for us. It was something that, looking back, I’d always been proud of understanding without having the knowledge or training. I knew that Second Chances couldn’t compete with Ikea and Target, so that wasn’t our goal. When Bruce had wanted to set our prices low, I’d pushed back. And that friction had paid off in the long run.
With that decided, I had to apply for internships and choose my coursework for my concentration. My internship could be anywhere—the school had relationships with a variety of companies all over Europe and Asia—and the classes would be taught online. Santo and I had talked about what we would do next, but it was hard to figure it out before I knew where I was going. If I stayed nearby, we might start dating for real—publicly. But if it was far away…
