Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2) (2 page)

“No. Only her.”

His heart was beating too fast. He wanted to ask Bri how many times he’d mentioned Annabelle, but he was afraid of the answer. “Annabelle and I—we’ve been friends a long time. But that’s all we are.”

“Are you telling me? Or yourself?” She blinked three times in rapid succession, and—
damn
—those were definitely tears.
 

He spoke faster, trying to reason the moisture away. “This is crazy. I haven’t even
seen
Annabelle since high school.”
 

“But you write to her. And email.”

“Once in a while.” He let himself write to her exactly once a week. That was safe. Friendly, but not
too
friendly.

“If you say so.” Bri folded her arms across her chest, looking small and vulnerable.
 

He wanted to put his arm around her—he was the one who was supposed to keep her safe—but he couldn’t protect her from himself.

Instead, he tried for a laugh. “Come on, babe. Let’s get out of this crazy place. I’m sorry about the dress, but—”

“Enough about the dress! The dress is not the point.”

“Then what
is
the point?”

She straightened, swiping the tears from her eyes defiantly. “That I’m not the woman you want.”
 

He needed to object, but he couldn’t find the words. How had things gotten so fucked up so fast?
 

“And, I have to be honest, Ty. You’re not the man I fell in love with either.” Her eyes widened, like she’d surprised herself, but she didn’t take her statement back. “Not since your injury.”

He shoved her words deep into his subconscious. Later. He’d deal with them later. “We’ve both been under a lot of stress. And, yeah—we’ve changed. But that doesn’t mean we can’t make this work.”

“I don’t want to
make
it work.” She sniffed. “I want it to be easy. Like it used to be.”
 

He managed a jerky nod. That’s what he wanted too. He wanted to go back to the days when he could take whatever came his way with a grin, because he knew it would turn out all right in the end. The days when the universe was watching his back. The days when he knew who he was.

“Maybe…” She took a deep breath. “Maybe we should say goodbye. While we can still do this cleanly.”

She was testing him, but he wasn’t the same stupid-lucky kid who’d aced every exam without studying. He didn’t have a clue what she wanted. And he was so tired of pretending. “You sure that’s what you want?”

She swallowed. Tears poured from her eyes, but her chin came up. “It’s what I need. It’s what we both need.”
 

This was happening. It was really happening. His fiancée was dumping him in the middle of a
 
bridal expo.

Bri managed a slight smile through her tears. “Chin up, honey. You’ll be fine. Everything always works out for you.”

Not anymore.
 

He started to say it, but Bri was already walking away—a light, easy stride that said she felt better already.
 

He waited for the relief to hit him—Bri couldn’t have been the right woman if she could leave him so easily—but it didn’t come. He wanted to pass out on his bed and sleep for two days straight. Except, it wasn’t his bed or even his apartment. It was Bri’s.

He was gonna have to find a new place to live. At least he could get out of Chicago. He’d crash with his sister Keri or his best friend Sean until he found an apartment in San Diego.

San Diego. Where Annabelle lived.

The emotion that finally hit him wasn’t relief. It was fear and anger and a thousand other things. But, buried somewhere at the bottom, he found a tiny spark of possibility.

He grabbed onto it because the alternative was unthinkable. He wouldn’t let himself spiral back down to the depths of despair that had swallowed him after the accident.
 

There was a reason for all this shit. He had to believe that.
 

Hell, maybe this was the sign he’d been waiting for. Maybe the universe was telling him he could have another chance with Annabelle after all.
 

Only one way to find out.

“L
ET
’
S
BE
REALISTIC
, Anna.
 
We both know you’re not cut out for this.” Christian gave Annabelle a full-wattage smile. The one that—three weeks earlier—had made her forget her rule against dating other graduate students in the Evolutionary Biology Department.

Just like three weeks ago, her heart beat faster. Only, this time, it was in an I’m-about-to-have-a-panic-attack way instead of an I-want-to-get-naked-with-you way. Still, she managed to keep her voice steady and her gaze focused on Christian’s smug grin. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“I know Diamon would never have taken you on as a teaching assistant if I hadn’t recommended you. You’ve never even taken a Human Sexuality class.”

Her heart was going so fast she could no longer keep track of the beats, though she knew exactly what they were trying to tell her.
Listen to the man
.
Even if he is a jerk
.

Instead, she clutched the
Evolution of Human Sexuality
textbook to her chest and gave her heart strict instructions to slow down. She was not going to pass out. Not in the middle of the Powell lobby, while undergrads streamed toward the lecture hall. “But you did recommend me. And now it’s too late for me to get another TA assignment.”

“I’ll explain everything to Diamon. And I’ll take over your sections until he can find someone else.”

“What about me?”

Christian gave her a blank look. “You get out of TAing a class you never wanted in the first place. Now that we’re not together…” His voice trailed off, his gaze following a blonde undergrad with an impressive display of cleavage. “I’m sure you can see it would be best for everyone if we weren’t forced to work so closely together.”

Translation—you were such a terrible lay, I don’t ever want to see you again.

The windowless lobby area—stuffy under the best of circumstances—closed in on her. Her ribs followed suit, tightening around her lungs, and she wanted more than anything to agree. Why should she spend her last quarter in graduate school TAing for a class whose mere name made her internal organs shut down in terror?
 

But she’d been avoiding the class for her entire five years at San Diego University, TAing for every single other undergraduate course offered by the Evolutionary Biology department. Avoiding everything to do with sex hadn’t helped her get over her hangups. Maybe, if she forced herself to do this, she could finally have a normal relationship. A normal
life
.
 

The crazed thumping inside her chest slowed a notch below heart-attack level, and she pulled in a breath. “I need to TA this class, Christian. It has nothing to do with you.”

The look on his face—one part annoyance, two parts confusion—was almost worth it.
 

“But Amy is seriously considering a thesis project on the evolutionary roots of BDSM. Do you really think it’s fair to take the position away from someone with a genuine interest?”

“I have just as much interest in the material as Amy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to be late for the first lecture.” She pushed through the heavy double doors into the dimly lit lecture hall.

With several minutes remaining before class started, the room was only half full. She chose the middle seat in the completely empty front row.
 

Diamon looked up from the laptop he was setting up on the podium. “Anna? Christian told me you’d taken a different teaching assignment.”

“I’m afraid that was a miscommunication. I’m really looking forward to TAing for this class.”

“And you’re certain you’re…comfortable with the material?”

“Of course.” She ignored the pulse fluttering way up in her throat. Probably, Diamon asked all his new TAs that same question. There was no way Christian had shared the details of their disastrous sexual encounter with his research advisor.
 

“And you’ve reviewed those supplementary papers I passed along?”

“Absolutely.” Not only had she read every single one, she’d highlighted the key passages and taken color-coded notes.

“And you understood Haselton and Miller’s theory regarding the way women’s mating preferences change according to their ovulatory cycle?”
 

“Yes. Although I have to confess that I found Gangestad’s thoughts on the subject more compelling.”

“Hmm. Interesting.” Diamon nodded, like she’d passed an important test. He pressed a button on his laptop, and the title of his lecture blinked to life on the giant screen at the front of the room.
The Evolution of Recreational Sex
. “That should get their attention, don’t you think?”

Her cheeks warmed.
 

She held her breath, trying to reverse her body’s automatic response, but it was no use. Heat spread from her scalp, moving inexorably down her body until even her toes had to be bright pink. At least Diamon had the lights set to presentation mode, leaving the seating area in shadows.

She glanced to either side. None of the students were close enough to notice her freak-out; in the time-honored manner of the hung-over, the undergrads were filling in seats starting in the back. Diamon was tapping at his smartphone, oblivious to her blush.

Finally, the fire blazing over her skin died down. She cleared her throat. “You’re right. That will keep everyone awake.”

She sounded almost normal.
 

So she’d blushed a little. A year ago, when her advisor had first suggested she TA for the class, she’d run out of his office, then sent him an email begging for a reassignment.

Now she was here. She wasn’t dizzy or nauseous. She’d already confronted Christian, which meant the worst was behind her. She was finally making progress. Finally ready to put the past behind her.

She swiveled around, taking the opportunity to survey the students she was soon to be teaching. Hunkered in their seats, mainlining coffee, they looked young and impressionable and much too worried about their own lives to question her qualifications as a teaching assistant. They’d happily absorb her insights about the material without even considering that it came from detailed study of the textbook rather than hands-on experience with the source material.

Though the back two-thirds of the lecture hall was nearly full, the stragglers charged toward the few remaining seats, scrambling over backpacks and messenger bags. All except one student, who ambled down the center aisle toward the front.

He scanned the room. Though Annabelle was too far away to get more than the vaguest impression of broad shoulders and dark eyes, she knew the minute he saw her.

He went totally still, like the sight of her was so overwhelming he couldn’t handle anything else.

Awareness slammed into her. Her skin flushed and her knees went weak.

She forced her gaze away. Dragged in a breath.
 

Get a grip, Annabelle. Yes, TAing for this class is scary, but better to deal with that fear head on than to manufacture some ridiculous lust-at-first-sight distraction.

That stern mental voice was usually enough to set her back on the right path, but today her rebellious body tuned it out like the rest of the conversations around her. Though her gaze was now safely focused on the screen, she saw the dark-eyed student instead of Diamon’s slides. His close-cropped hair. That hint of stubble she must have imagined, because she couldn’t possibly have seen it all the way across the dim lecture hall.
 

He was watching her. She could feel it.

You’re being ridiculous.
 

She must have been even more stressed about the class than she thought, because her brain was in full-on distraction mode, even manufacturing the sound of the dark-eyed student’s footsteps. He was coming toward her. Closer. Closer.

The footsteps stopped.

He was right next to her. There was no other way to explain why she was having so much trouble with instinctive bodily functions, like swallowing and breathing.

Turn around, and you’ll see he’s still half way across the room.

She finally found enough muscle control to turn her head. And there he was, not two feet from her, watching her intently.

Almost like he knew her. Like he was waiting for her to recognize him.

She shivered. He looked almost like—

“Annabelle.” His voice poured over her, warm and rough and devastating.

Ty
.

Her mouth went dry. Her heart raced ahead of her brain, which was still trying to figure out what was going on. It couldn’t be Ty. Not here. Not now.

Asking him to prom seven years ago had been her first big mistake, the bad decision that set her on the road toward that terrible night with Christian. She hadn’t seen Ty since then. No way had he just happened to drop in on the class she was TAing.

She was going to take a closer look and realize this guy was actually a student from the Evolution of Infectious Diseases class she’d TAed last quarter. Then she’d give herself a blistering mental lecture on getting over it. This obsession with Ty had to stop.

She turned in her seat, facing him head on. “I’m sorry. Can I help—”

The rest of the sentence curled up and died inside her throat.

He was seven years older—a man instead of a boy. Sexy stubble covered his jaw, and he had enough tough, corded muscles to kick his high-school self’s ass, but those piercing green eyes were straight out of her memories. Her dreams. Her tall, dark, and handsome fairytale prince.

If only someone had explained back in high school that fairytales only tell the shiny, happy side of the story. They tell you about the big, romantic date to the ball, but don’t mention the morning after, when your prince decides it was a big mistake. They skip the part where he’s so keen to avoid you that he enlists in the military and gets himself shipped half a world away. They don’t tell you about his weekly letters and emails—the ones you keep reading on the off chance he’ll say he made a huge mistake, and if you’ll wait for him to come home, he’ll never leave you again for the rest of your life.