(Clara)
I stared at the email for a long moment before finally opening it.
It wasn’t personal.
It wasn’t inappropriate.
It wasn’t even directed specifically to me.
The email contained information regarding a research project Professor Hart was organizing for a small group of top-performing students in our class.
That was all.
Completely professional.
Completely normal.
And yet my stomach still tightened the second I saw his name.
I hated that.
I hated it so much.
Because just a few minutes ago, I had been sitting in Ethan’s car listening to him tell me he would wait for me as long as necessary, and instead of feeling grateful like I should have, I was standing in my room staring at an email from another man.
“You’re home!”
Anna’s voice suddenly echoed from the living room.
I
