Page 71 of Breaking the Ice

“The college encourages us all to get an Indiana teaching license and then transfer it to another state if needed. It’s easier that way. So, I’ll probably start looking for jobs in Indiana and then expand the search. But I don’t have a burning desire to stay in Lafayette.” She shudders. “It wasn’t really my first choice to move back home with my parents.”

I wink at her. “You found a way out of their house as fast as you could.”

“Pretty extreme measures, don’t you think?” She laughs, and the sound of her giggles makes my chest ache.

“So are there other cities you like in Indiana? I haven’t really explored much beyond South Bend.” Notre Dame is in our division for hockey, so I’ve been there for games, but that’s about it.

“Yeah, I think that would be a good spot to end up. Same with Indy, Evansville, or Fort Wayne. Basically, anything that’s not a small town.”

She smiles, soft and warm, and I can’t help it. She doesn’t say that she wants to be with me next year. But I’m drowsy, and I’ve had a glass of wine. My mind spirals out, painting a picture of us at Christmas, celebrating together in matching pajamas and watching movies all day. Finding teaching jobs in the same district and living in a small (less shabby) apartment. Getting a dog and making a life together. Staying married for real and being in love every day.

Because that’s what’s happened to me. I’m in love with Isabella. The truth of it resonates in my bones. She’s my wife, sure. But does she love me back?

Chapter

Thirty-Two

ISABELLA

Vanessa: Are you guys free to grab coffee and catch up?

Ariana: Sure, I’m in!

Isabella: Evan and I have this married student housing thing to go to. Next time, though!

Vanessa: Right, because you’re MARRIED!

Ariana: Still so crazy.

Isabella: I know!

Vanessa: I loved seeing your Christmas pictures on Instagram.

Isabella: Thanks! Some of it was a little staged, but I’m glad it looked okay.

Ariana: Babe, you look great.

“Did you know this was a thing?” Evan whispers out of the corner of his mouth as we stand in the doorway to the married student common room.

“I had no idea,” I whisper back, clutching a casserole dish full of brownies.

“But it’s cool, right?” he asks, surveying the dingy space. The wood-paneled walls are straight out of the Seventies, and the linoleum has more cracks and chips than surface at this point. But the table in the corner practically groans with food, and the room buzzes with excited conversation.

When the invitation to the January married student potluck showed up in our mailbox, we figured we should go because it would look good on our social media page. Doing a normal married student thing, right? I didn’t realize it was a monthly get-together, like a dorm event, almost. But there are about twenty couples in the room, and they clearly know each other.

A few small kids that belong to the grad students run around the room and play, women greet each with hugs, and men shake hands and slap each other on the back while Evan and I take in the community.

A woman rushes up to us, brown hair escaping her ponytail. Her hazel eyes sparkle, and a baby with matching features sits on her hip. I guess it makes sense that some married students would have kids, but I hadn’t really thought about it.

She holds out her free hand for us to shake. “Hi! I’m Regan. And this is Anjali.” She tickles her daughter’s tummy. “You must be our newest couple, Evan and Isabella, right?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer but rushes on. “Welcome to the married student group! Most everyone is a graduate student, but we’re so excited you’re here. Let me introduce you to everyone.”

Evan and I share a glance, but there’s no time to say anything as Regan gives us a whirlwind tour of the clusters of people in the room. She throws out so many names, there’s no way I will remember them all. She instructs me to put my brownies on the food table, and Evan stops to talk with a guy wearing a Red Wings jersey.

After we circle the room, I end up in a group of ladies with Regan and some of her friends—MacKenzie, Akari, and Megan. They or their spouses are all grad students.

“So you guys just got married, right?” MacKenzie asks, brushing her blonde Taylor Swift-style bangs out of her eyes. “Like, you’re practically still on your honeymoon?”