Page 62 of Unbreakable Thread

“How about four?”

“That works for me. I close the café at three.”

“Great. I hope this has helped some.”

“It has and again thank you, Professor⁠—”

“Call me Alex. We are past professionalism. I consider you a friend. We’ve known each other for much too long.”

I raise a brow. “Okay. How about I call you Professor in class and outside of class, Alex?” He is right, I have known him for a long time. I did call him Alex for a short period years ago.

“Works for me.” He places the folders on his desk, then opens the door for me. “So should I call you Rainey or Sol or either?”

Thinking. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter.” I’m still searching to find out who Sol is. It’s time I find out who she is. “Well, I’d better go. I’m sure you have a significant other waiting for you at home.”

Alex moistens his lips. “I don’t, but damn, I wish I did.”

Chapter 19

Rainey

Leo: I’m so pissed at him. I quit two days ago.

What is he talking about?

Me: Why did you quit? Did you get into an argument with Max?

The bubbles come and go.

Leo: Did you see it? The headlines?

The mixture of emotions crashes through me like a wave. Pain stabs at my chest while searing, angry blood rushes through my veins.

Me: I did.

Leo: I’m sorry. You don’t deserve this. I think fame is getting to him. And on top of it, Carlos, his promoter, and his manager keep him busy.

Me: Don’t be sorry. I told him to move on, so he did.

With her!

I don’t think it’s fame because he’s never been big on attention. But Carlos is keeping him busy. I do believe that.

Leo: It’s just not right. He said he loved you and had been searching for you for years, and for what? To end up with a woman who is a completely stuck-up brat?

I sigh, get out of my car, and search for Lana. She wanted us to meet for dinner to finally meet the guy her dad set her up with. The doctor.

Leo: I’m sorry, I’m probably upsetting you more. What are you doing tomorrow?

Me: I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.

Leo: I’ll come with you. Text me the time.

I send a quick okay and head into the restaurant.

It’s nestled in a sprawling outdoor shopping center where palm trees sway between storefronts. On all sides, upscale restaurants with gleaming windows sit between a bistro where waiters in crisp white shirts pour expensive wine and carry platters of sampler appetizers visible through floor-to-ceiling windows, all arranged around a central courtyard where a fountain sprays in time to upbeat music. The hosts are dressed in short, skin-tight black dresses.

“Hello, how many are in your party?” the woman asks.