As I spied through the door, I noticed the women tended to be paying more attention. I suppose some things hadn’t changed after all.

My cell phone rang. Adam. I moved away and answered with a quiet hello.

“Theresa?”

“Hey, babe. Everything okay?”

Adam hardly ever called during the school day. I could picture him at his desk, papers piled high. Emails from parents and teachers pinging in.

“Where are you? Are you home?”

“Uh, no. Why?” I kept my voice low, though the hall was empty.

“The contractor just called. He says he’s at the front door, but no one’s answering.”

Shit. I’d completely forgotten they were supposed to come by to put in the faucet finally.

“Dammit,” I said. “They said they’d call first.”

“He said they did call you. No answer. Where are you?”

I checked my notifications. Sure enough, missed call. They must’ve called while I was driving.

“I, uh—I stopped at the library, actually, to pick up a couple of books.” The lies were becoming easier and easier these days. Once you started, you had to keep going.

Greg’s students started filtering out of the classroom. “I’ll call him right now and reschedule,” I said into the phone. “Sorry they bothered you.”

“No problem. Love you.”

Greg was at the front podium packing up when I slipped in. A blonde student in a long floral dress took her sweet time gathering her belongings.

Greg looked up as I approached, and when he saw me, he threw a million-dollar grin my way.

“To what do I owe this honor?” He gave me a big hug.

“I was hoping you had time to talk?” I asked. “Can I buy you coffee?”

He lifted his wrist—Greg was still a faithful watch-wearer—and checked the time. “I’ve got a faculty meeting in twenty minutes, sadly. But you can walk me there?”

I waited while he finished packing up. The butterflies were fluttering in my stomach as I thought about the note I’d gotten yesterday, how I would broach it with Greg.

Greg turned off the projection screen and slung his bag over his shoulder. “Misty, did you have a question?” he asked the student.

“Oh, uh. No, not really. I just wanted to double check that our essays are due next week, start of class?” Her voice was timid, eaten up by the fabric walls designed to dull loud noises.

“That’s right,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with. I’m sure it will be dynamite.”

She flushed, tossed her hair over her shoulder, and rushed off with a triumphant look.

I turned to Greg and raised an eyebrow. “Misty?”

He laughed. “Jealous?”

“I’m certainly not,” I said.

“I didn’t mean you.” He winked. “Come on.”

We strolled across the quad, past students sitting on benches or in groups on the lawn. “Bring back memories?” he asked.