Page 94 of She’s Worth the Risk

The women emit a quiet, collective squeal, trying to contain their excitement, and I laugh. But my laughter dies away.

“When I decided to stick around for the fall semester, it was fine because I wasn’t in any of Nick’s classes. But then…” I wince. “Then my professor had to leave, and Nick took over my class.” God, even saying it aloud makes me uncomfortable. I’m sleeping with my professor. I’m dating my professor. I’m falling for…

Before it can take hold, I shake the thought off, glancing at the women. I wait for them to suck in a shocked breath, maybe recoil a little in disgust, but they simply nod, as if there’s nothing shocking about it at all.

“If it helps,” Daisy says gently, “we’ve all been there.”

I look between them in confusion. “You’ve all slept with your professor?”

Poppy laughs. “No. What she means is—” The doorbell sounds, and Poppy swallows her words, giving me a wink. “You’ll see.”

I trail after Poppy to the front door, mystified. Gran’s in the hall, avoiding my gaze when I look her way, and my stomach sinks. Shit, she didn’t hear any of that, did she?

Poppy throws open the front door, revealing Violet, an older woman, and an older man. “Hi!” she says, doing her best to hug her friend around her enormous belly.

Violet smiles at me over Poppy’s shoulder, her gaze drifting around Gran’s foyer. “I forgot how gorgeous this brownstone is.”

I grin and usher her inside, turning to the people behind her. “Hi, I’m Zinnia, come in.”

“Hi, Zinnia,” the woman says. She’s got blond hair, exactly like Violet’s. “I’m Diana, Violet’s mom.”

I smile, motioning for her to enter. “And you must be Violet’s dad,” I say to the man behind her.

His lips twist wryly. “No,” he says, slipping an arm around Violet’s waist. “I’m Violet’s husband, Kyle, but that’s not the first time someone’s accused me of that.” He and Violet share an amused look, and I shrink, mortified.

“Oh, God, I’m so sorry,” I mumble, sneaking a glance at him with this new information. Mid-forties, with flecks of gray in his beard and creases beside his kind green eyes, he must be close to twenty years her senior.

He shakes his head, laughing. “Here’s her father now,” he says, gesturing to a guy with silver hair coming up the front steps.

I shoot Kyle an apologetic look as he and Violet enter Gran’s living room, introducing myself to Vi’s father, Rich, just as three other men arrive. One is Iris’s fiancé Aidan, who I’ve already met, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out that one is Daisy’s husband, Weston, and the other—holding a gorgeous baby girl—is Poppy’s husband, Wyatt. All much older men. I can’t help but stare a little as I lead them into Gran’s living room.

“Now, my dear,” Gran says, taking Violet’s hand, “I believe this seat is for you.” She motions to her recliner, which we’ve adorned with silk scarves to create a sort of makeshift throne.

“Oh, thank God,” Violet says, falling into the chair with a low groan that makes everyone laugh. Kyle kneels before her, reaching for her feet, but Daisy stops him.

“We have a masseuse arriving any minute now. Go get a beer.”

He hesitates, then rises, heading to the drinks table. Another woman arrives—a fiery redhead and old friend of Vi’s called Sadie—and Iris puts on a playlist through a Bluetooth speaker. People mingle, eat, explore the activities, and the masseuse plants herself at Violet’s feet, drawing a relaxed moan from her every few minutes.

I sip my mocktail, letting my gaze drift between my friends and their husbands. Wyatt is easily in his mid-forties, bearded and covered head to toe in tattoos. It gives him a dangerous look, completely at odds with the tender way he holds baby Rose, as if she’s the most precious thing in the world. Every few minutes he glances up to find Poppy across the room, talking with Sadie, and they share a tired but affectionate smile.

Then there’s Daisy and Weston, sitting together on Gran’s sofa. He’s got salt-and-pepper hair, a beard, and looks at Daisy like she hung the moon. There must be close to twenty years between them, too.

Is this what Daisy meant when she said they’d all been there? Not with their professors, specifically, but with older men?

I glance at Iris and Aidan, taking silly pictures in the photo corner, and there’s a tug in my chest.

It’s not the same, though, is it? Sure, age gaps like theirs are often frowned upon, but none of them are crossing lines like Nick and me. They’re all here, all out in the open together.

And Nick and I can never have that.

“Having fun?” Iris asks, appearing at my side.

“Mm.” I smile, but that ache in my chest is only growing worse. I watch Gran talk with Rich and Diana, wondering again what she’d think about me dating Nick. How disappointed she’d be.

The party wraps up at three, and everyone leaves except for the women, who stay to clean up. Even Violet says she wants to stay behind for a bit, sending Kyle on his way. Gran tries to help, but Poppy insists she go sit down. Gran, who hates being coddled, goes to the kitchen to make tea for everyone. The minute she’s out of the room, Violet grabs my arm to yank me down on the sofa beside her.

Oh, crap. She’s still angry that I confused her husband with her father. I can’t blame her.