Perfecting the Odds (44 page)

Karis
dropped her head into her hands. “I’m horrible. He hasn’t called or texted or written or anything, Eve. He’s done with me.”

“
No one could be done with you, for chrissake. He’s not finished, Karis. He’s hurt.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because Scott says he’s miserable.” Karis gave her a look of disbelief, and Eve rolled her eyes. “He’s his best friend. Don’t you know when I’m miserable and vice versa?” Karis nodded. “Besides, one evening last week, he and Scott were supposed to get a beer. Michael never showed, so Scott drove to his house. He found him in his gym beating the hell out of a punching bag. Long story short, Michael nearly beat the shit out of Scott before Scott could get him to talk. He’s back at work, but he’s not in a good place, Karis. He needs you, and I’ll put money on the fact that he will be thrilled with this baby, too. It’s no short of a miracle, isn’t it…with his past, I mean?”

“
A miracle,” Karis whispered before shaking her head. “And it’s a Monday.” Eve furrowed her brow, not making the connection. “I can’t just call him. I have too much to apologize for...too much to explain.” Karis suddenly realized he may think the baby is the only reason she wanted him back. God, how could she convince him she loved him and wanted him, needed him? She’d put the man on a wicked coaster ride of her crazy-assed emotions. No man in his right mind would stick around, knowing he’d have to deal with that for the rest of his life. But then she recalled Charley’s words from Thanksgiving. She had to let go and let life take its course. Life happens, and sometimes things are just out of control. And life had just taken a direction she never thought possible. She was smack dab in the middle of quintessential example of fortune, a miracle. What was meant to be, would be, and Karis could either fight the futile circumstances, or relish in any modicum of happiness that came her way. Especially if she had the love of her life beside her.

“
Karis, he already knows you’re a crazy bitch.” A wicked glimmer flashed in Eve’s eyes. “I have an idea, Karis.”

“Oh, no,
Eve. I have to do this right, for Michael, for our baby.”

“Oh,
relax. This one will be effective
and
fun. Trust me.” Eve wrapped one arm around Karis’s waist. They stood and sat on her bed. Eve unfolded a plan that not even Karis could refuse. It was foolproof: the location, the materials, the results. And damn if it wasn’t a Karis-type plan, including one of Karis’s favorite combination...a little spite with a dash of sexy—perfect to take back the love of her life.

After a week of necessary research and contacting the right people, Karis finally found herself standing outside of the doors of a very large lecture hall on campus. Trembling like she’d spend hours out in cold rain, she watched the huge clock above slowly tick toward eleven a.m. She shifted her feet back and forth, praying repeatedly that the plan would work.

Too much rode on
perfect
execution.

In the planning phase,
Karis convinced Eve that they would have to do this on a Monday, a matter of changing her fate. Since her positive pregnancy test, she was sure Monday would now be her auspicious day, and she couldn’t afford that luck ending when she needed it most. Eve rolled her eyes but acquiesced shortly after Karis’s eye-locking glare.

Karis
palmed her belly just before smoothing her long black wool-lined trench coat skimming the skin around her ankles. After cinching the belt tightly for the umpteenth time, she adjusted her cute gray crocheted cap hiding her hair and tapped the tight bun at the nape of her neck. Pushing her new thick-rimmed glasses farther up on her nose, she strode into the hall and began the search the rows of stadium-type seating for a place near the back, hidden by rafter shadows. According to Jason Lewis, Michael entered the lecture hall from the bottom. The hall would be dimmed because of his use of a PowerPoint.

She would be
surrounded by second year English majors.
Ugh
, she hated English majors. Yes, that was hypocritical, but she had never connected with her contemporaries...aside from Michael of course. Most were arrogant, stuffy, and some were just plain weird.
Please let me sit next to someone normal
, she begged. She didn’t need some quirky idiot screwing up her plans.

A
s Karis approached the back row, she noticed a pretty blond student sitting near the end. The girl fiddled the pen in her mouth as she stared down at her cell phone. Perfect. She looked harmless. Karis slid into the seat and pulled out her paper and pen. The key was to look like an unassuming, almost invisible student. That would be too…

“A
ren’t you hot,” the girl asked, wrinkling her nose.
O-kay
, easier said than done.

Karis
smiled. “No, I run kind of cold.” The girl nodded.

“
My name’s Beth. Nice to meet you,” she said and extended her hand.

“I’m…er…
Melissa.” To ensure her cover was effective, Karis changed her name and chose a higher-pitched southern accent after Eve fell off the couch and all but peed her pants when she attempted British, which admittedly sounded like mix between Australian and Appalachian hillbilly. Eve’s description, not hers. Bitch.

Beth
furrowed her brow. “I haven’t seen you here this semester.”

“Yes, I just transferred from University of Tennessee. I won’t get credit for this class, but Professor Lewis encouraged me to sit in on a few classes before holiday break. I’m officially enrolled for the Spring term.”

The girl snorted
.
“Ah, well you chose a doozy. Professor Finn is piece of work. He’s intelligent and all that, but soooo intimidating. And it doesn’t help that he’s hotter than the sun. I don’t think I’ve spoken once this semester. I can’t handle it when he looks at me with those eyes of his. I can’t even breathe,” she said, palming her chest.

Karis
a.k.a. Melissa laughed, secretly sharing the similar feeling. “I’ll take that as fair warning, Beth, but I plan to ask many questions. We’ll see how it goes.”

“You’re braver than I am. Go for it.”

Karis winked at her and scanned down and around the rows of seats. A student filled every one, and she was still in the darkest part of the room, despite the glowing lights from cell phones and the bright lights of the projector. Perfect.

A few agonizing minutes later
, she saw the door near the front of the room creek open. Michael strode in, his head hanging a bit low, his satchel slung over his shoulder. She noticed how his shoulders slumped with fatigue or sadness, or a combination of the two.
I’m such an idiot
. He tossed his bag on the table behind the podium and began riffling through it. Shuffling his lecture notes, he walked slowly to the lectern and cleared his throat into the microphone.

“Good morning
.” He briefly looked up to grace the lucky students with his decadent eyes, now shadowed with dark circles, noticeable even from the back of the hall. Karis pressed her lips together to smother the ache in her heart dangerously stirring tears. If she wanted to pull this off, she had to remain as objective as possible, ignoring both his and her own pain. Indifference would get her man back into her life.

A series of mumbled good mornings
echoed throughout the crowd before he began again. “Today we will discuss John Donne’s ‘Valediction: Forbidding Mourning’. As I assigned on the syllabus, you should have read and analyzed it numerous times prior to class. Please feel free to ask questions when necessary. This work will be on your final exam. I’ll begin the discussion,” he clarified before shutting his eyes briefly. “What is the speaker’s argument in this poem?”

As soon as Jason gave her the copy of his syllabus
a few days ago, she cursed when she the lecture topic. Of course he wouldn’t be discussing one of Donne’s meditations or something less, well, about love. Karis looked around and noticed not one hand rise to address his question. Interesting. Was her gentle giant really that intimidating to these kids, or did they just not do the assignment? With a deep breath, Karis slowly raised her hand, praying it was dark enough, but more so that she didn’t further hurt his heart with her approach to this topic.
Stick with the plan,
resounded in her head.

Her narrowed his eyes on her and smiled dimly.
“Yes, in the back of the room. The argument, please.”

“
Good morning, Professor Finn,” she drawled. That had his eyes widen slightly, hopefully intrigued by her manners and accent.

“Good morning
. Your name please?”
Breath of relief.

“Melissa, Melissa Percy.”
Shit
, why did she always repeat the first name? She prayed she didn’t just royally screw herself.

“Ah, Melissa, Melissa Percy.
You’re the quiet observer Professor Lewis told me about. Not so quiet, huh?” Humored lined his words, and Karis glowed knowing she provided him a bit of happiness. In addition to his slumping shoulders and shaded eyes, she now noticed more than a day’s growth beard shadow. Even with those flaws, he still looked no less gorgeous. Really,
really
gorgeous. She crossed her legs. Of course pregnancy hormones weren’t helping the matter either.

“
Sir, no one was volunteering, so I figured I’d give it a shot.”

H
is lips curved slightly. “Shoot away then.”

She took a deep breath
, consciously forcing herself to not clear her throat. “Professor, it’s quite a simple poem, for Donne’s standards of course. The speaker muses about spiritual love, a love that goes beyond the physical. Although from Donne’s ‘The Flea,’ we know he likes to give his speakers a healthy share of good ol’ fashion
physical
love.” That earned her a chuckle from the class. Michael kept his gaze on her shadowed form. As he tilted his head in professor-like inquest, a full smile emerged, not quite making it to his eyes. Dammit.

“Anyway
”--she continued-- “his argument is simple: a truly spiritual love is different from what most define as true love. The former can surpass obstacles, conflicts, and especially distance because much like a compass’ needle, once its foot is fixed, the other may depart and lean without the threat of a separation. It is that fixed foot--the spiritual connection--that joins the two souls as one.” She ended her explanation feeling quite confident she answered his question completely and accurately; however, his face became impassive, almost polite…until he frowned. Perhaps he was unimpressed?

“Do you believe that Ms. Percy
?” She heard the whoosh of air escape her mouth. The question damn near knocked her off her seat. And then there was that interested glimmer in his eye, almost as if her answer would bring him solace. Does she believe their love is unbreakable? His mother had convinced Karis that Michael owned her heart. She’d reached the crest of true love and was so high, the ground all but disappeared beneath her. Her tapping feet interrupted her pondering, and it took everything in her not to run down those stairs, grab onto him and not let go. But she fought the urge, gripping the edge of her desk like a lifeline. She needed to stall him a bit to regain some control. She had a plan that required precise execution.

Sh
e steadied her breathing and asked, “Believe what, Professor Finn?

A small smile crept to his lips, still not meeting his eyes.
“That spiritual love--love that runs deeper, expanding and deepening with absence--does exist?” His eyes so direct, jabbing for the answer and piercing her resolve. Her hand hovered over her mouth, her eyes dropped to peer at him above her glasses. She remained disguised until he broke the stare to glance at his notes.

“
Well, that seems like a personal question, don’t you think, Professor,” she asked coyly. Commence goading. The hairs on her skin prickled as the atmosphere of the room palpably tensed.

Still looking down, he flinched
. “Is love not personal, Ms. Percy? Perhaps we should discuss the other poem you mentioned, Donne’s ‘The Flea’? If love seems too subjective for you, we could just get down to
raw
objectivity and all that,” he asserted, looking up at the last second. Chattering laughter echoed. He was insulting her. Perfect. And as if these students were like a school of swimming fish following the tide, their heads harmoniously swung around to glare in her direction. Deja vu. They really were an entertaining pair, weren’t they?

Ready yourself,
Professor
, she preached within. “I suppose there’s nothing more impersonal than comparing a flea’s comingling blood to the fluid exchange during sex to convince an innocent girl to partake in a quick premarital
fuck
,” she enunciated with a coy tilt to her head. Yep, that brought the gasps from the young quirkballs, most definitely because her less-than academic word choice. She took a deep breath to prepare herself for his retort.

Beth leaned over
and whispered, “What the hell are you doing?”