For all of summer, I'd looked forward to classes starting again, but when I walked into corporate finance class earlier, I didn't feel the same spark I'd felt on Monday before everything had happened. I wasn't as focused as I should've been, and the usual passion I had for teaching just wasn't there. My mind was too cluttered–too chaotic–to steer my attention towards my work. There was someone much more important to me than my job on my mind, and she was hurt–by us.

Emma had every reason to be mad at all of us. While I hadn't known she was a student at my school, I did know about Callan hiring a PI. Truth be told, when he'd assured us he would find her, I'd suspected he would use a private investigator, and I hadn't done anything to stop him. So, while he might've been the one to actually do it, we'd been the ones encouraging him because we were just as desperate to find the one who'd caught our attention.

As I finished up preparing some course material after class, I once again checked my phone, like I'd been doing much more frequently these past days. A jolt went through me when I saw I'd gotten a couple of notifications, but I didn't let myself hope too much. Callan and Gideon both had been peppering my phone with messages, trying to get me to talk to them. I knew I couldn't stay mad at them forever, but they'd let me down, and it wasn't something I could forget easily.

One of the notifications was, in fact, a message from Gideon, but my eyes zeroed in on the one from Emma.

She'd texted, I thought, with a healthy mix of apprehension and relief. Whatever she had to say, good or bad, I would take it as long as she talked to me.

My heart thundered as I clicked in on her message.

We need to talk. Meet me at Kissena Park at five. Use the entrance by the playground. Go left and follow the trail. I'll be sitting by the lake.

She wanted to meet; that had to be good, right? Right. At least, she wasn't blocking our numbers and never talking to us again. This was a great start. It had to be.

Seeing the time, I noted that I had an hour before I had to be there. Not wanting to risk being late, I decided to pack my things and leave now.

Since Monday, I'd hoped for the opportunity to talk to her, but now that I was going to, I was suddenly nervous. This might be the only chance I would get, and I couldn't fuck it up.

No pressure.

Forty minutes later, and I found myself at the entrance Emma had been talking about. Following her instructions, I turned left and walked down the trail. The sun made the suit I was wearing uncomfortably hot, even when I'd abandoned both the jacket and tie in the car.

I walked by a family, with their kids running ahead, chasing each other. They made such a beautiful picture of a future I longed for. I'd never had the traditional family, with two loving, present parents, but I craved for the time I could give my kids what I never had. I didn't need the traditional, though, just the loving part.

I was so lost in the imaginary future that it took a second before I saw her standing just a few feet away. My breath hitched, and my feet stopped moving. At that moment, it felt like I hadn't seen her in weeks, and as much as I'd missed her, I hadn't known how much until I was looking right at her.

Emma was dressed after the weather, with the same lavender sundress with white flowers on that I'd picked out for her on our first date. I tried not to read too much into the fact that she'd chosen to wear that dress, but I couldn't help the small glimmer of hope.

She looked absolutely breathtaking with the sun painting her hair golden. I couldn't see more than her side profile, but there was a sadness to her that squeezed my heart.

For a short while, I just stood there, taking her in. She was standing right by the lake, holding a bag of what looked to be pallet food, presumably for the ducks currently swimming near her.

This was the place she'd been telling me about, I realized. Her place. This was where she sought refuge when she wanted to get away from all the noise.

My eyes found the pallet of food again, remembering that she used to feed the ducks with her grandmother. They'd been here for their last time before her grandmother passed away.

When I looked back up at her face, she had turned towards me, her eyes locking on mine. The intensity of her sadness hit me like a fucking train, and I sucked in a breath.

We did that. We caused that.

It was hard watching her like this, with palpable sadness written along the slight frown at her lips, in the redness around her eyes and the blotchy nose. It was even harder knowing I was the cause of it.

Emma turned to bend down and set the bag aside before moving to the empty bench by the trail. I followed with heavy steps.

As we sat down, I kept space between us, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. It was sweet torture having her this close but out of reach. She was staring straight ahead at the lake, avoiding any sort of eye contact.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, breaking the silence between us. "I wish I could express how much I am sorry, but there are no words for it."

Tears glinted in her beautiful blue eyes, and God, if that sight didn't hurt.

"We should've told you–" I began, but she interrupted me.

"Then why didn't you? Why didn't you tell me? The night we met...I thought we were strangers, but I wasn't a stranger to you, was I?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, her pain seeping through. It was unbearable to listen to.

"Not a complete stranger, no," I answered honestly, as honest as I should've been right from the start.

"What did you know about me? What did you find out about me before we even talked to each other?"

Just thinking about how much we'd actually kept from her made me sick, especially now that we had to face up to it.

The words were stuck in my throat, but I still forced them out. "The night of the open house, we saw you talking to Claire. We found out from her that you were a submissive and that you couldn't afford the membership. The bouncers told us your name and age." I swallowed, feeling so fucking ashamed. "From the PI, we learned you studied Marketing, that you moved to the city two years ago and that you were from Greenport," I continued and didn't stop until I'd told her everything. We hadn't known much, but it was enough.

Tears were spilling down her cheeks by the time I was done. "You knew my entire background, and you thought that was okay? What if I'd been hospitalized for a suicide attempt, or if I'd been raped and it was documented? The PI must've been able to get a hold of the records if he dug enough. Would that have been okay for you to know about without my permission?"

Fuck. When she said it like that...

"No, it wasn't okay," I whispered. Guilt ate at me at the thought of how we'd violated her privacy.

"No. It wasn't," Emma agreed. "Then why did you do it?"

I shook my head. "There's no reason or excuse for what we did. The only thing I can say is that no one else held all of our interest before you. There was this...connection I felt the second I laid eyes on you, and I know the guys felt it too."

"You know..." she started, looking back at the ducks–or rather looking away from me. "Since I found out, I asked myself if anything we shared with each other was real. I kept wondering if I'd just been some game to you–"

My hands cupped her cheek instinctively and turned her gently to face me. "Please believe me when I say everything was real. Every single moment with you was real."

Her eyes searched mine as if she was looking to see if I spoke the truth. She must've found what she was searching for because I could literally feel some of the weight leaving her shoulders.

"It's still real, gorgeous," I whispered. I stroked her on the cheek before pulling back, letting her have her space.

"Tell me, Mateo...have you forgiven your friends for lying to you?"

My mind spun at the sudden change of topic. "I haven't talked to them since I found out," I admitted.

"Isn't that a bit hypocritical of you?" she asked. "You all want me to give you a second chance, yet you can't forgive your friends?"

Like the idiot I was, I hadn't even thought of it that way. "You're right. That is hypocritical of me." I'd always planned on forgiving them; I'd just needed a bit of time.

"I'm glad you agree." The corners of her lips tugged upwards slightly like she was about to smile, but she didn't. "What about our other situation?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If we ever work this out, how will it go with you as my professor?"

"Simple, I'll quit."

"You've already handed in your resignation letter."

"Yes, but that is for after this semester. I meant I'll quit at once." I shrugged like it wasn't a big deal, and in the grand scheme of it all, it wasn't. I wanted her back more than I wanted my last semester.

She blanched. "I can't let you do that."

"And I will not let you risk expulsion," I said.

Her eyes narrowed. "It's a good thing then that we're not together then because I won't allow you to lose the last semester. I know how much you love your job."

Not as much as I love you, I thought, shocking myself speechless at the realization.

"Why do you care about that?" I asked softly when I was able to collect my thoughts. "I hurt you."

"Yes, you did, but I haven't stopped caring about you just because you hurt me. I can't turn my feelings off, even though I might wish to." The last part was said in a whisper, but I still heard her. I didn't focus on that, though; instead, I focused on the fact that she still cared, even after what we'd done. If she still had feelings for us, there was hope.

"Thank you for seeing me. I just...I'll text you all when I've figured my feelings out," Emma said.

"Do you want a ride?" I offered, wanting to have as much time with her as she would allow.

She shook her head. "No, thank you. I'd like to walk." She rose from her seat, but paused by me. "For what it's worth. You should forgive Callan and Gideon. A friendship like yours is something that should be treasured." Not giving me a chance to say anything back, she walked away. She was right though, I should forgive them–hell, I already had, I was just too stubborn to admit it to myself.

I sat there until long after she was gone from view. Fuck, this was one of the most challenging conversations I'd ever had. I just hoped she had found what she was looking for in my answers. And I hoped it was enough to return to us.