Page 103 of Saint Céline
Direct, then. How disappointing.
“From whom?” I leaned back in my chair.
“Don’t do that.” His face darkened.
“I’m asking for clarity.”
“You know exactly who I mean.”
“I know several women. Most of them are capable of deciding who they do and do not see.”
“Céline is my girlfriend.”
I rolled my eyes.
“She broke up with me last night,” he said, more tightly.
“I’m aware.”
“Of course you are.” His eyes snapped back to mine.
He took a step closer to my desk.
“What did you say to her?”
“Many things.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
“You came to my office uninvited, accused me vaguely, and shut the door behind you. If this is a game, Mr. Rodriguez, you chose the board.”
His hands curled once at his sides.
Interesting. Not enough discipline there. His father would have remained still.
“You’re her professor,” he said, lowering his voice. “Whatever you think is happening, it’s wrong.”
That almost made me smile.Wrong. Such a soft, useless word.
“Did she tell you something was happening?”
The question struck exactly where I intended.
Thad’s silence answered before he did. His expression shifted, just slightly, and there was the first genuine uncertainty. Céline had not told him. Not properly, and certainly not enough. He had been left with suspicion and wounded pride.
“She didn’t have to,” he said finally.
“No,” I replied. “I imagine she rarely does.”
His anger sharpened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you were comfortable with the version of her that required the least imagination from you.”
“You don’t know anything about our relationship.”
“Oh, but I know she was no longer happy with a dull, unsatisfying sex life.”
His face flushed.
