Tangled with the Professor (Bringing Home Trouble)

Chapter 4

Isabelle

It’s been a week and I still can’t believe Mark actually offered to come to my family’s house for Christmas vacation with me. He’s really helping to get my mom off my back and I really can’t believe we’re on our way there right now. I keep telling myself that it’s only going to be a few days. What could go wrong in just a few short days?

I carefully shift in my seat again, anxiously noticing the scenery whisking past getting more and more familiar. We’re getting close and I’ve been on edge the entire trip, thinking I’d become more relaxed the closer we got. Wrong. I’m beginning to think this was a terrible mistake.

I’ve barely told my parents anything about him and I’m sure they’re expecting someone closer to my age. And another student. There’s no way they’d approve of Mark under normal circumstances because of him being fifteen years older than me, but if they find out he’s one of my professors? They’d riot.

But the offer was so sweet and there’s no one I want to be with more during the holidays. Even though we’re just having fun for now, his offer was so sweet I had no choice but to accept it. And I don’t think he would have taken no for an answer. He seems so excited about it and it’s so darn adorable and swoon worthy.

The thing is though, I don’t want to make him feel like he has to lie or hide part of himself from my family but I don’t see any other option. There’s the riot option, of course, but that’s way down on my list of what I want to ideally happen on my first trip home with my first ever boyfriend.

Since I’ve never brought a guy home before, they’re all sure to poke and prod, obviously wanting to know his entire life history. I’m so proud of everything Mark has accomplished it seems unfair to ask him to leave out all his massive achievements.

I glance over at him, his strong profile relaxed, his dark eyes on the road. As soon as I turn to him, he turns to me and offers a smile. I try to hide my nerves but he sees through me instantly and asks what’s wrong.

“Just excited,” I lie.

He takes my hand, the soft flannel of his casual shirt rubbing against my arm as he grips my fingers reassuringly. “Me too,” he says, no hint of any worry in his voice or on his rugged face. He furrows his brow at me for a split second but I maintain my smile and he puts his focus back on the road.

“You know, if you’re nervous, I could pull over and calm you down the same way I did in my office the other day,” he says, rubbing ever more tantalizing circles around my hand. I’m turned on at the mere memory of him licking me.

Just as I’m about to answer, a truck swerves in front of us to miss another car cutting across all three lanes to get to an exit at the last minute and Mark’s hand flies from mine to the wheel to keep us out of what could be a huge pile up.

Without his warm strength infusing me, I start spiraling again. Okay, he might not care about keeping things from my family, but how long can that last? They’ll find out he’s not just a professor at my school, but the professor I’m working for.

What if they think I’m only involved with him to advance my career? I’ve never found academia easy but I work hard and have a strong sense of accomplishment from making it into grad school. Neither my mother or father get how hard it’s been for me and don’t really see why I wanted to keep going after I got my undergrad degree. They’ve always coddled me a little bit, seeing as I’m the baby girl of the family, and they’ve definitely always underestimated me.

If they ever thought I was dating my way to the top I’d be crushed. Especially since my relationship with Mark is so new, so unsure. Both Mom and Dad are hopelessly old-fashioned and might even think that was the only way I could make it.

My stomach starts to turn over and it has nothing to do with turning onto the winding road leading up to my house at last. I can’t figure out which of my scenarios is the worst. Them judging Mark for our age gap, thinking I’m using him to get ahead, or just plain causing a scene that may or may not involve torches and pitchforks.

They’re all pretty bad.

“Come on, what’s wrong?” Mark asks, looking at me now that we’re on a quiet lane in my neighborhood. “You’re practically squirming over there.”

He’s so caring and earnest and it’s amazing how he just knows all my emotions even when I try to hide them. Tears spring to my eyes and I look away, trying to pretend everything is fine.

“Isabelle,” he says in that commanding voice that either makes me melt or jump to attention, depending on the situation. “Please tell me what’s bothering you.”

Guilt hits me like a punch to the gut and I’m not sure who I’m betraying more. I’m asking him to lie to my parents, I myself will be lying to them about the state of our relationship, and as much as they often annoy me, I love them and only want them to be happy and proud of me. But I care so much about Mark, too, despite how much of a whirlwind our secret affair has been. He gets me, deep down, and I don’t want to let him down, either. I think this could transform into something much more.

He takes my hand and asks me again and I finally crumble under his soft, concerned voice.

“I don’t like lying to my parents about us being in a full relationship. I’m also worried that they’re not going to approve of you being so much older than me… and the fact that you’re my boss isn’t going to help.” I can’t keep a tear from rolling down my cheek and that makes it even worse because he looks so pained as he gently wipes it away. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “This is my fault.”

“Nothing’s your fault,” he says. “If anything, I shouldn’t have pushed to come with you.”

He lapses into silence as he makes the final turn onto my street and I don’t know how to ask him how he feels about my revelation. I’m a coward and don’t say anything more, just wallow in misery as he pulls up behind my cousin’s car that’s parked on the curb. We need to talk more, figure this out.

As I look over at him, he opens his mouth to say something but then my mom flies out of the house like a whirlwind, her apron flapping in the cold breeze over her silk blouse and sleek wool pants. I can already envision the stockpile of cookies she and my aunt have been baking. She looks so joyful that my heart lurches. Before I know what’s happening she’s wrenching open my car door and pulling me into a hug.

Great. How will Mark and I get a chance to talk now? Hopefully she’s the only one to come out to greet us and we can slip away for a quiet moment to sort this out. My mom is strangling me as if it’s been years instead of one semester since she’s seen me.

“How was the drive?” she asks, pulling away to inspect me from my boots to my fleece hat. “Oh, you need a new parka, honey, this one is—”

She stops abruptly, her gaze stopping dead over my shoulder. I twist out of her grasp to see she’s caught sight of Mark as he gets out of the car. I try to see him through her eyes, but all I can see is my boss who I can’t get enough of in all his older man glory. He’s so handsome and rugged and full of life, and his smile is infectious. At least to me, but Mom isn’t smiling back at him.

“Mom, this is Mark, the man I’ve been telling you about,” I say. My voice sounds forced and squeaky.

Mark hurries around and offers his hand, telling her he’s pleased to meet her and he’s heard so much about her.

“Well, yes…” Mom trails off, too polite to say she hasn’t heard much about him and unable to hide her shock. She recovers enough to tell us to hurry up and get inside before we freeze but I can tell she’s shocked to the core at who her youngest child just brought home.

As we head inside, Mark slips his hand around mine and squeezes it to reassure me. That’s right, we’re in this together. We’ve got this. Just like he told me before, this is going to be perfect.

Then my father comes booming into the foyer. “Where’s this young man my daughter’s bringing home?”

His jocular tone is cringey but at least he sounds happy. As soon as he claps eyes on Mark though, his smile vanishes and his teasing eyes go hard and cold. Mark starts to reach his hand out to shake but drops it to his side and his own gaze has frozen into a tight mask. Both men stare at each other for a moment before my mother nudges Dad. He clears his throat and I hurry to introduce them before all hell breaks loose.

“Um, Dad, this is Mark…”

He cuts his eyes to me, with a look so full of disdain I almost recoil. Then he finally, begrudgingly reaches out to shake Mark’s hand. Their hands barely grip before falling back to their sides and the most uncomfortable silence envelops the foyer.

This isn’t right. It’s somehow worse than I imagined. How the hell is it worse than torches and pitchforks? We awkwardly head toward the family room with my mom herding my dad ahead of her. Mark’s face is set in hard lines, his brow furrowed and his eyes still like ice.

Okay, I figured my parents might have a bad reaction. Not this bad, but still. But why is Mark so stony? Before I can pull him aside to tell him things will get better, or get my mom alone to ask her why Dad’s barely containing himself from freaking out, we’re swarmed by the rest of my family.

There are more hugs and everyone is outwardly jovial, but I can tell they’re side-eyeing Mark as if he’s done something wrong. Come on, now. So he’s a little older than me, what’s their issue?

“Dad,” I say, moving to his side at the bar. “Come and meet Mark properly, please.”

His face goes red and his body turns rigid with anger. With a final look of fury aimed at Mark, Dad storms from the room. My mom sighs and follows him.

Dread takes over as I wonder what they’re talking about and what will happen next. One thing I’m sure of is that this Christmas is not going to be anywhere near perfect.