Mom laughed—brightly.
“She’s lucky to have you, Nathan.
Most professors wouldn’t give private tutoring at home.”
He looked at me then—eyes dark, mouth twitching into the smallest smirk.
“I’m happy to help,” he said.
“Anything for my best student.”
Mom was still at the sink, rinsing the last of the breakfast plates, humming some pop song from her playlist when she turned around with that bright, oblivious smile she always wore when she had a "great idea."
"Oh, Nathan!" she said, drying her hands on the towel. "I almost forgot—my office is doing that little welcome-back coffee thing this morning. The team would *love* to meet you properly. You've been so busy with the semester starting, they keep asking about my hot professor husband."
She laughed lightly, walking over to him at
