Page 73 of Bachelor

A loophole, somewhere.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rhys

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WHITNEY: IT WENT FINE. Better than fine. I’m about to go to class, but I’ll find you later.

I stared down at the text Whitney sent several hours ago, reading it over and over again. She’d been fretting over this lunch with her father, expecting to be dragged through the dirt publicly. I hadn’t expected this.

I set my phone down on my desk and stood up, facing the window. Rain pattered against the ancient glass windowpane and darkness swept over the icy, silver grounds below. No snow clung to the trees anymore. The bike trail was nearly free of ice and snow. Early spring had come fast, just like the brutal winter we’d experienced. Time moved at such a great rate of speed I had a hard time reckoning the fact it was nearly Spring Break already. My year at Gatlington was coming to a close.

Or so I thought.

I sighed and turned back to my desk, pressing my hands onto the smooth surface, and looked down at the contract before me. A ten-year tenure. A substantial raise. I could buy a house, a car, put down the roots I’d been wanting to plant and start a life here. I liked teaching here. I liked my students and the faculty. It was the culture at Gatlington that caused me to debate signing that dotted line and accepting the university’s terms.

I had other offers elsewhere. I could go back to the field if I wanted to. I could move back to England. I could move to Scotland and teach at Edinburgh University, but that salary paled in comparison to what Gatlington offered me.

I had options.

What I didn’t have were options with Whitney, and the more I thought about my next move, the more she popped into my mind and made me question everything. I wouldn’t leave without her. I wouldn’t put an ocean of distance between us.

This was a decision we needed to make together—our future. One where we didn’t have to hide and keep secrets.

If she stayed here for her doctorate, could I even think about accepting this tenure?

I swept my tongue across my lower teeth, reading the fine print at the bottom of the offer, my mind elsewhere.

Could we get married this summer and come back to campus as husband and wife? Would that make a difference, or would it only cause our problems to grow?

Cassandra’s words from several nights ago kept echoing in my head. We might be able to be together here on campus, but in the real world? Cassandra was right. Whitney came from an elite family. Our relationship would be full of contracts and expectations the average person wouldn’t even have to think about.

And I knew Whitney would give it all up for me. Her family, her inheritance.

I exhaled, not liking any of the options laid out before me.

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