Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,73
the university grapevine.
A week ago, she would have been mortified by the intrusion into her personal life and the utter and total derailment of her professional dreams. Now she could barely muster any real indignation over the circulating gossip and the only facet of the entire sordid affair that caused her any real pain was Brandon’s continuing silence.
He hadn’t returned any of her phone calls. Her texts and emails went unanswered. She’d even gone round to his place, but despite knocking on his door for the best part of fifteen minutes, there’d been no response. She had to accept that their relationship was well and truly over.
He’d never be able to forgive her for Gillian’s scheming or for her own unwitting role in his downfall. His life, the life he’d worked so hard to construct for himself despite everything that had conspired against him, was in ruins, and there was no one to blame but her.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ announced over the expensive sound system, “if you will turn your attention to the head table, Mr. and Mrs. Jeremy Fields would like to say a few words to all of their friends and family.”
And, Leanne thought gratefully, I’m that much closer to getting the hell out of Dodge.
Gillian and Jeremy rose hand and hand as the guests applauded.
“There are so many people we have to thank for today’s wonderful event.” Gillian’s voice, magnified by the expert sound system, filled the room. “I can’t tell you how much it means to us both to have all of you here, sharing the most important day of our lives.”
Gillian and Jeremy’s speech prosed on and on and Leanne tuned it out.
Around her, she could hear the sentimental murmurs of the guests and see the sporadic flashes of cameras recording the moment for posterity, all the people in the room save her thoroughly duped by the fairytale aura that Gillian had so expertly cast.
Her dessert was gone and the wine bottle in the centre of the table was empty. She craned her head, looking for a waiter. A flash of movement at the wide double doors caught Leanne’s eye. She turned, interested to see who else might be escaping, but a cold wave of shock swept over her when she realized no one was trying to sneak out.
Someone was trying to sneak in.
And that someone was Brandon.
“Oh my God.” The exclamation slipped before she could help herself. She bit down on her lip, the sharp pain helping her focus her wayward emotions.
“Sweetheart?” She swiveled toward her father’s voice. He’d been a rock these last few days, standing by her through all of the chaos and fallout. The departmental rebuke. Her mother’s accusations and recriminations. He’d never said one unkind thing about Brandon either. “Are you all right?”
Leanne couldn’t find the words to answer his question. Her mind reeled in disbelief, disjointed thoughts skittering through her brain like so many scattered rose petals.
Brandon was here. Now. At Gillian’s wedding reception.
And she had no idea why.
But that didn’t stop her heart from beating double time, the hope she’d thought dead springing to life resurgent.
“He’s here,” she whispered from the corner of her mouth, gesturing toward the door.
Her dad’s reaction was not what she expected. He smiled. “I was wondering when he’d get here.”
Leanne whirled around, her jaw agape. “You knew he was coming. And you didn’t tell me?”
“I hoped he was coming,” her father corrected. “There’s a difference, you know.”
Because she’d hoped he was coming too. And she’d hoped he might care for her. Maybe even love her. But whether or not he did, she knew she loved him, and whatever else happened, she wasn’t going to let the opportunity to tell him slip through her fingers again. She was done with living life to other people’s expectations. She wanted a full life—love, laughter, purpose and joy. She still wanted to teach at the university and eventually achieve tenure. But her professional goals were only one part now. Because she wanted more than just a job she loved. She wanted a life she loved too.
Most importantly, she wanted to share it with someone she loved. Someone like Brandon.
“I-I have to go.”
“You can’t leave,” her mother said. “Jeremy and Gillian are still speaking.”
“I have to go,” she repeated, snatching her purse from the back of the chair. “Dad, I’ll call you, okay?”
Ignoring the disapproving whispers that accompanied her hurried dash toward the entrance of the banquet hall, she pushed through the heavy doors, into the hallway