But ultimately it all means that I'm away from my wife. When the only place I want to be is with her.

"Oh, Dean," Liv says. "You know I want you to come home. We need to be together, but-"

"No. There's no but in this conversation, Liv. I'm coming home."

"Frances told you to stay, that it was good for your career."

"I don't care what Frances said."

"She knows you're doing well there."

"Yeah, I'm doing well here." I shove off the bed and start to pace. "I'm doing well because I know how to work. But nothing I do here is going to make a damned bit of difference if I have to abandon you. And I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being away from you, not seeing you, talking to you only once a day, jerking off every night because I can't be with you... No. Fuck this, Liv. I've never hidden before. I'm not going to start now."

My chest heaves. I press a hand to the wall and suck in a hard breath.

"Liv."

Suspicious silence on the other end.

Oh shit.

"Liv, don't cry." I bang my forehead against the wall. "Please don't."

"I'm not." Her voice sounds thick. "Dean, please... look, I know it seems like nothing is within your control, but-"

"It doesn't seem that way," I interrupt. "It is that way. It's been that way since last fall when things got so fucked-up and I couldn't fix them. Then that mess with my parents, the miscarriage, this bogus charge against me, the suspension... Jesus, Liv. I told Frances I'd quit my job to stop this whole thing."

"You told her you'd quit?"

"What the fuck else can I do? Stafford's forcing me to sit on my ass until he finishes his investigation. You're getting dragged into this shitstorm right when you're starting a new business. And I can't give you anything, Liv, not even a guarantee that I'll still have my job next year. At least if I quit, I can stop it from getting worse."

"For God's sake, Dean, you've never quit anything in your life. But you're going to let that girl force you out of a job that you love?"

"Damn right I will, if it'll-"

The words stop abruptly in my throat.

Silence vibrates.

"If it'll protect me," Liv finishes.

Goddammit.

Anger breaks inside me. I grip the phone harder.

"Look, I'm not going to apologize anymore," I snap. "Yes, I want to protect you. You're my wife. I'd fucking kill for you, Liv, and if that makes me a possessive bastard of a husband, then fine. That's what I am. I'm not going to change either. I love you too goddamned much."

"I know you do!" she cries. "I know you would. That's why it scares the crap out of me to think of you back in Mirror Lake before the investigation is over."

I stop. "What?"

"Dean, I wanted you to leave because I knew you wouldn't be able to stand doing nothing here, but I also..."

"What? You wanted to stand on your own, right? Well, you have. Now you still don't want me to come back?"

"No! That's not what I-"

"Not what you meant?" I stalk across the room. A thousand sharp edges cut into my chest. "What did you mean then, Liv? That I should stay away until it's convenient for you that I come back? That I should jerk off and talk dirty to you until you finally decide it's okay for us to be a married couple again? That you don't want me to come back because you need to do everything by yourself now?"

"Dean, would you shut up and listen to me?"

She's crying. My throat aches.

Is that it? Have I been stifling her so much that I can't see any other way? Is that why she insisted I leave? Does she really think she can't do anything with me near her?

I stare out the window. The courtyard blurs in front of my eyes.

Do I love my wife too much?

"Dean? Dean... are you there?"

"I'm here."

I'll always be here. She could rip me open, tear me apart, and I'd still crawl back to her. She's had me whipped since the day she stood in front of me on the sidewalk with her hair all windblown as she asked me about medieval knights.

And while I've been trying my damnedest to give her what she wants-I'd promised her I would-I can't stand the thought that she'd ever believe us being apart is a good thing.

I try to breathe. My heart is racing. The walls are closing in.

"I need you to listen to me, Dean."

"I am."

Liv takes a breath. "When I asked you to leave, when you left, yes, I knew it was a chance for me to stand on my own. And I have. But I also..."

"What?"

"I knew... I knew that if anything happened here, if Maggie started spreading rumors, if something got out about the charge, I knew you'd be safer if you were gone."

I sink onto the edge of the bed, all the wind knocked out of me.

"You-"

"I wanted you to be safe," Liv admits, her voice still thick. "It was... it was the only way I could think of to protect you from anything bad that might happen here. And to keep you away from my mother. I told you I don't want her to poison my life any more than she already has, but more than anything I don't want her to poison you."

"She... she can't hurt me."

"She already has. You've always been angry with her for what she did to me, for what she didn't do. I just... I knew if you went back to Italy, she couldn't touch you. But because you are such a stubborn ass, I also knew you'd fight me tooth and nail if you thought my mother was the reason you had to leave again. I can handle her. But I don't want you to have to."

"Liv." I picture her all curled up in my office chair, hugging her knees to her chest, her hair sliding over her shoulders. I'm about to break in half.

"I'm here," she says.

"Okay." I shut my eyes. "Okay. I love you."

"I'm yours," Liv whispers. "I'll always be yours. You told me once that I became your world the minute you saw me. It was the same for me. I'll never forget it, Dean, the instant I looked up and saw you. Something opened in me, something I didn't even know existed. And then when you reached out to touch me... I couldn't believe how I was reacting, this intense, hot pull, like I already knew I belonged to you."

"Damn right you belong to me." My voice roughens. "You belong with me. I'm not doing this anymore. I'm not staying away from you. I need you, dammit."

"Oh, Dean." Liv's breath escapes on a rush. "Whatever you need from me, you know I'll give it to you. I'll do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"Then get ready for me. I'm coming home."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Olivia April 28 y mother moves in with the owner of the auto repair shop after she takes her car in to be fixed. Our apartment seems lighter without her, and though she still comes to help at the cafe on occasion, we don't speak much after our argument.

I try not to think about the fact that she is very likely still here because she's feeling the loss of her own mother in ways she probably never comprehended. And all her futile attempts to convince me to come with her again are a sad way of easing the loss. I try not to think about the fact that I might even pity her.

The day before Dean is scheduled to return, I go to the university for my meeting with Ben Stafford of the Office of Judicial Affairs. He is a slender, bearded man with a long, narrow nose who reminds me a little of Inspector Clouseau. This is rather comforting, as I'd been having images of me sweating under hot interrogation lights.

"Can you please tell me when you first met Professor Dean West?" Mr. Stafford asks, after we're seated in his office.

"When I was a student at the University of Wisconsin."

"First year?"

"Yes, but it was my junior year. I was twenty-four. It was my first year as a transfer student."

"Your major?"

"Library sciences and literature."

"How did you meet Professor West?"

"I had some trouble with transfer credits and was at the registrar's office trying to work it out. He was there and offered to help."

Ben Stafford peers at me. "How did he offer to help?"

"He suggested I go to the professors directly and ask them to approve the credits. I did, and the problem was solved."

"When did you begin dating?"

"A few weeks later, after he came into the coffeehouse where I was working." I'm starting to get nervous, which seems silly since I'm just telling the truth. But I've never talked to anyone about how I met Dean, let alone our relationship, and it feels like I'm divulging our secrets.

I know there has always been a teaching dynamic to my relationship with Dean, mostly because of our different world experiences, not to mention his sexual confidence and history. But never has that dynamic been controlled by a sordid sense of power.

I take a drink of water and try to steady my shaking hands.

"Did you ever take a class with Professor West?" Stafford asks.

"No."

"Did you ever enroll in one?"

"No."

"Any Medieval Studies classes?"

"No."

He nods and makes a note on his legal pad. "Do you remember your first date?"

Seriously? How could I ever forget?

"Yes," I say. "Dean asked me to attend a lecture he was giving at a local museum. We had dinner afterward."

"At the time he asked you to attend the lecture, did Professor West make any implications about your class schedule or grades?"

"No."

"Did you discuss your academic work?"

"During the date, yes, but just casually. Like what classes I was taking, that sort of thing."

"Did you find it odd that a professor would ask a student out on a date?"

"No, because I wasn't his student. I knew it wasn't against university regulations."

"At any time did Professor West indicate that your response to his requests would affect your academic work?"

"Never."

Mr. Stafford scribbles notes again and asks more questions-how much did I know about Dean's classes, did I ever interact with any of his students, what was my level of involvement in his work.

The questions go on for about an hour before Stafford seems satisfied. He asks me to sign a form before reaching to turn off the recorder. As I put the pen down, I notice a small framed picture on the desk of Mr. Stafford, a blonde woman who must be his wife, and two young girls.

"Your daughters?" I ask, gesturing to the picture.