Forty-Seven

When Lander emerges from the Cavendish Waits building an hour later with a box containing the personal items from his office and a letter outlining the biggest departure settlement in the firm's history, I'm waiting for him with two coffees: my usual and his usual PSL. We kiss right outside the firm, probably too long for a kiss in public, but we've never been shy about PDA.

Like, we're literally the farthest thing from shy in the world.

"How's the neck?" I ask, running my fingertips over Lander's bruised skin.

"Kills," he admits, voice still croaky. "You promise it doesn't hurt like this when I choke you?"

"Promise," I confirm. "…But I'm a little sick. I like when it hurts."

His gaze drips with adoration, soft but potent, and he smiles at me. "Hey, thanks for today. I know it was intense, but I wanted you there."

I begin shaking my head before he finishes speaking. "Last night, you helped me fulfill a career milestone. Now, Aurora Amada isn't a virgin who wears pink. Her customers know she's a sexually adventurous woman who sometimes reverses gender roles by licking her boyfriend's nipples and playing with his asshole. I owed you."

Lander lets out a laugh. "Well, fucking you on camera wasn't altruistic on my part. I needed to do the stream as a contingency in case I couldn't get Frank to hit me," he reminds me. "Plus, I had fun. Too much fun. Hey, did you know I was an—"

"Exhibitionist? Yes, Lander. I knew." I squeeze his shoulder. "I knew you'd figure it out eventually."

"Seriously? Baby, throw a guy a bone and list out his kinks for him."

"Never. It's so much more fun for me to see your face pale and then light up when you realize you're a fucking freak." I kiss him before linking his arm in mine, and we head down Connecticut Avenue. "So, here's the thing…"

"Uh oh," he interjects. "I know that tone. Last time I heard it, you were sauntering out of my closet with my dignity and a post-orgasm glow. Do I want to know what you're about to say?"

"While you were meeting with HR, I got an email."

Lander cants his head. "Oh, remarkable. Did you know that they now sell cordless phones you can carry anywhere, and if you need answers to any question, you can find them on this thing called ‘the internet?'"

I thwack his arm with my palm. "Ass," I mutter, but I can't stop grinning. "It was an email from Georgetown in response to my request for a contestation hearing."

Lander stops in his tracks. "When did you send that?"

"Last week in St. Michaels after I got an email from my visa case manager about a meeting."

His face pulls into a horrified frown. "Valeria, no."

I hold up my hand. "Breathe. I'm on top of it," I assure him. "Georgetown got back to me today, and I'm meeting with the Dean of Students tomorrow to make a case for reinstating my enrollment. If this works out, I'll get back on a student visa."

"Tomorrow?" he exclaims, eyes widening. "Tomorrow? That's barely enough time for me to help you put together an argument—"

"Lander," I interject, locking my gaze on his. "I've got this. I know exactly what argument I'm going to make. I have the precedents and I've already worked through the potential counterarguments."

It's a testament to this man's love for me that he shuts up, exhales, and nods. "So you don't need my help?"

"Of course I need your help," I reply, frowning. "I didn't tell you back in St. Michaels because…to be honest, I needed to fix it—for me. And now, I've got this, but you make me better. We make each other better. I know this is your first day of unemployment—"

"Freedom."

"—freedom, but I'd love it if you would listen to me practice my case for the Dean." I bite my lip, hopeful.

He takes a step closer to me, putting his nose near mine and sweeping me into an embrace. "Valeria Fuentes, what did I say the night we first spoke?"

"If you ever need anything, ask me," I quote.

Lander steps back and holds out his hands like he's presenting himself. "I meant it then, I mean it now, and I'll mean it for the rest of my life. I'm yours. All you have to do is ask."

I smile. "Lander, will you help me get my life back?"

Lander Dawson

The Dean's secretary keeps staring at me. I think it's the handprints on my neck.

I'm probably not helping your case.

Should I wait outside?

Me

Smile at her.

Lander Dawson

Okay, she's, like, beaming and blushing now.

Are you fucking kidding me? I've avoided smiling at strangers for the better part of a decade, and these are the results I could have been getting?

Me

Yep. Fuck Frank Cavendish.

Lander Dawson

Fuck Frank Cavendish indeed.

Behind me, the heavy mahogany doors open and a woman steps in. She's short with graying black hair and tawny skin, maybe a shade darker than me.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Fuentes," she says before taking a seat. Exhaling, she places her laptop down on her desk before she looks up at me. Her dark eyes meet mine and she bobs her head. "Ready?"

"I'm ready."

"I'm Dean Lopez," she says, reaching over to shake my hand. "You're here for a contestation."

"I am," I reply, smoothing my hands over the folder in front of me. "I got expelled two years ago for—"

"Creation of pornographic content on campus," she interjects, nodding while her eyes trace over her laptop screen. "I read through the details in your student record."

"That's correct."

Dean Lopez glances at me. "I also read that prior to your expulsion, you had a near-perfect GPA, were the president of the Latin American Students' Association, and you received letters from three tenured professors supporting your continued enrollment at Georgetown and your long-term goal of becoming a lawyer." She closes her laptop. "You were one of Henry's cases."

Henry Brant. That was the name of the older man who was the Dean when I was expelled. Dean Lopez must have replaced him sometime in the last two years.

"I was. And at the time, I didn't make the argument I'd like to make today—that although I was expelled for creating pornography on campus, the lack of a concrete definition for pornography made the decision contestable." I slide over a piece of paper. "This is a list of cases where the vague definition of pornography resulted in inadmissible charges."

She browses the list, her dark eyes running over the dozen or so cases I found. "You're a thorough one, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Well, I'm going to stop you there," Dean Lopez announces. "And I don't mean to interrupt, but I don't want you to spin your wheels on this."

My heart sinks—plummets. Deep sea diving whales should be darting out of its path—that's how fast my heart is dropping. I barely got to make a case, and she's already made up her mind.

"Your father is the one who reported you to the Dean's office," she states. And even though it's not a question, I nod. "My predecessor, Henry—he was a good man, but he lacked…perspective. A broader perspective, at least." She leans back in her seat, looking comfortable. "Why did your father do this to you?"

The question catches me off guard. All those times I met with Dean Henry Brant, he never once asked about my father. "Control," I answer simply, calling a spade a spade. "He said I humiliated him when I started camming, and when I refused to give it up, he found a way to control me—the way he always has."

Dean Lopez's eyebrow rises. "Mind if I indulge in a quick story about myself?"

"Not at all."

"When I was fourteen, I lived on the US side of a small border town in Texas, and my father would go back to Mexico all the time to visit our family. Honestly, he spent more time in Mexico than the States some months, but he insisted we needed to live in the US—that it was going to give us the opportunities we needed." Her gaze breaks away. "His soul was never here though. It was always back in his little town in Guanajuato." She returns her attention to me. "When I told him I had met with the guidance counselor at my high school to talk about my plan for college, he pulled me out of school."

"Shit," I blurt out, unable to help myself.

Dean Lopez just smiles. "Don't worry. My guidance counselor insisted I come back to school and assured my father she wouldn't broach the topic of college with me again."

"And?"

"She lied," the Dean replies, chuckling to herself. "Valeria, I know a family issue when I see one. I can pick a machista out of a crowd."

A machista. My father.

Like I told Lander that day in his bed when I confessed why I hated lawyers, machismo is the idea that women are meant to be pure, deferential, and subservient—and nothing more, ever. It's toxic at its core, but today, it's a thread tying me to Dean Lopez. And for women like us, this kind of connection is instantaneous.

"I'm sorry your father said you humiliated him," she goes on. "Frankly, that's not your problem, is it?"

"I've never thought so, although he certainly blamed me."

Dean Lopez nods her head before sitting up straight. "Well, if he thought camming was humiliating, I can't wait to see how he feels when you graduate from law school and take over the world. When anyone finds out he didn't back you?" She whistles. "That'll be far more humiliating."

It takes me too long to realize what's happening, but by the time it hits me, Dean Lopez is already holding out her hand.

"The registrar will email you about enrolling for spring semester," she says as she shakes my hand. "The Office of Global Services will reach out about your student visa as well. And Valeria?"

I nod, breathless.

"Welcome back. We're lucky to have you."

Somehow, Lander and I manage to keep our composure until we leave the building, but as soon as we're outside, he can't hold back. He picks me up and spins me around, saying, "God, I'm proud of you." He kisses me hard. "So fucking proud." Another kiss.

"You are?" I ask against his lips.

"No shit." He kisses me yet again and it still isn't enough, so he keeps kissing me, covering me with them. I'm laughing and dodging his lips, but he can't stop. Seriously. The man was less excited about annihilating Frank yesterday. "I love you, Valeria. I really fucking love you."

The smile on my face has never been bigger. "I love you too."

"So, does this mean you're done with camming now that you're going back to school?"

"Not even close. Maybe in a few years when I'm working late hours at a firm and don't have the time, but for now, I'm doing both. I'm a camgirl—strictly off-campus, of course—and a student." I bring my hands together and tuck them under my chin, grinning up at Lander. "What do you think?"

His eyebrows tip upwards. "Fucking hot. We have to celebrate."

"Right now? It's a Wednesday morning."

"Huh," he muses, looking around the sleepy college campus surrounding us. "I've always had a job, so I don't know…do people typically not celebrate on Wednesday mornings?"

"Most people work," I admit. "I'm self-employed, so I can do whatever I want. Today, I was thinking I'd do my Muay Thai and then grab a late breakfast. Laundry. Vacuuming. Once I'm done, we can add Frank and my dad's email addresses to Diana Gabaldon's mailing list."

Lander frowns. "Who's Diana Gabaldon?"

"Author of highlander romances," I reply before tugging on the collar of his shirt, drawing him closer to me. "Steamy, bodice-ripping romances."

Something passes over Lander's face. "It was you in Everett's inbox?" he questions, and he laughs when I nod unabashedly. "God, we're perfect for each other."

"We are," I agree.

He wraps his arms around my waist. "Alright. You go kick the living shit out of a man twice your size, and I'll make you the best French toast you've ever had in your life. Then we can flood those inboxes."

I kiss him, savoring him, realizing that I never want to stop—but I force myself. I stop and I stare up at him, tracing the lines of his handsome face with my eyes. He stares back at me, our gazes locking, brown against blue—limitless blue—blue that isn't going anywhere. And Lander and I aren't going anywhere either, I know.

Once, our last act on Earth was to steal fifteen minutes with each other. Now, we have all the time in the world. And stopping, starting, going—it's all the same to us. Because this is forever. I'm going to spend the rest of my life with this man, and while that time will undoubtedly be precious, it will be long and it will be unbreakable—and so deserved for both of us.

And honestly? "I can't wait."