“Good night, Miss Mitchell.”
“Good night, Professor Emerson.”
And with that, she disappeared into her building, leaving The Professor on slightly better terms than she had that afternoon.
An hour or so later, Julia sat on her bed staring at the photograph she always kept under her pillow. She gazed at it for a very long time, trying to decide if she should destroy it, leave it where it always was, or put it away in a drawer. She’d always loved this picture. She loved the smile on his face. It was the most beautiful picture she’d ever seen, but it also hurt her terribly to look at it.
She gazed up at the lovely painting that hung over her bed and fought back tears. She did not know what she had expected from her Dante, but she definitely hadn’t received it. So with the wisdom that comes only from having experienced a broken heart, she resolved to let him go once and for al .
She thought of her now crammed make-shift pantry and the kindness Antonio had shown her. She thought of the voice mails she’d received from Paul, how he had expressed concern at leaving her alone with The Professor and begged her to call him at any hour to tell him she was all right.
She padded over to her dresser, opened the top drawer, and placed the photograph reverently but determinedly at the very back, underneath the sexy underwear that she never wore. And with the contrast between the three men well fixed in her mind, she went back to bed, closed her eyes, and dreamed of a neglected apple orchard.
Chapter 6
On Friday, Julia received an official form in her mailbox indicating that Professor Emerson had agreed to be her thesis supervisor. She was staring at the form in amazement, wondering why he had reversed his decision, when Paul came up behind her.
“Ready to go?”
She greeted him with a smile as she placed the form in her crudely mended knapsack. They exited the building and began walking down Bloor Street to the nearest Starbucks, which was only about half a block away.
“I want to ask you about your meeting with Emerson, but before I do that, there’s something I need to tell you.” Paul sounded serious.
Julia looked over at him with an expression that resembled anxiety.
“Don’t be scared, Rabbit. It’s not going to hurt.” He patted her arm.
Paul’s heart was almost as big as he was, and so he was very sensitive to the pain of others.
“I know about what happened with our note.”
Julia closed her eyes and cursed. “Paul, I’m so sorry about that. I was going to tell you that I screwed up and wrote on your note, but I didn’t get a chance. I didn’t tell him it was your handwriting.”
Paul pressed his hand against her upper arm to stop her. “I know that. I told him.”
She looked up at him in astonishment. “Why would you do that?”
As he probed the depths of Rabbit’s large brown eyes, he knew, without doubt, that he would do anything to keep someone from hurting her.
Even if it meant his academic career. Even if it meant dragging Emerson out behind the Department of Italian Studies and giving him the serious ass kicking that he and his pretentious posterior so richly deserved.
“Mrs. Jenkins told me Emerson was hauling you in, and I figured he was going to chew you out. I found a copy of our note in a pile of photocopying he left for me.” He shrugged. “Occupational hazard of being a research assistant to a total dick.”
Paul tugged Julia slightly to persuade her to keep walking but waited to continue their conversation until he had purchased her a very large sugar-free vanilla latté. Once she’d settled in a purple velvet armchair, like a cat, and he had satisfied himself that she was both warm and comfortable, he turned to her with a sympathetic expression.
“I know it was an accident. You were so shaken up after that first seminar. I should have walked you to his office myself. Honestly, Julia, I’ve never seen him act the way he did that day. He can be kind of uppity and touchy about things, but he’s never been so aggressive with a female student before. It was painful to watch.”
Julia sipped her coffee and waited for him to continue.
“So when I found a copy of our note with the junk he left for me, I knew he was going to rake you over the coals. I found out what time your appointment was and scheduled a meeting with him before it. Then I confessed that I’d written the note. I even lied and tried to say I’d forged your signature as a joke, but he didn’t buy it.”
“You did all that for me?”
Paul smiled and casually flexed his substantial arms. “I was trying to be a human shield. I thought if he shouted at me and got it out of his system, he’d have nothing left for you.” He studied her expression thoughtfully.
“But it didn’t work, did it?”
She looked at him in gratitude. “No one has ever done something like that for me before. I really owe you one.”
“Don’t mention it. I only wish he’d taken his anger out on me. What did he say to you?”
She focused all of her attention on her coffee and acted as if she hadn’t heard the question.
“That bad, huh?” Paul rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Well, it must have blown over because he was polite to you in the last seminar.”
Julia snickered. “Sure. But he wouldn’t let me answer any questions, even when I put my hand up. He was too busy letting Christa Peterson do all the talking.”
Paul observed her sudden flash of indignation with amusement. “Don’t worry about her. She’s in for some trouble with Emerson over her dissertation proposal. He doesn’t like the direction she’s taking. He told me.”