Hard Habit to Break (A Chicago Love Story #1)

Hard Habit to Break (A Chicago Love Story #1) by K.T. Webb Page A

Book: Hard Habit to Break (A Chicago Love Story #1) by K.T. Webb Read Free Book Online
Authors: K.T. Webb
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literature.”
     
    I hear Isaac chuckle, “I happen to know Trisha is not much of a reader.”
     
    “I didn’t say this would help me win my ex-wife, I said it would help me win the woman I want. There’s a distinct difference.”
     
    “Robert, one of these days you’re going to cross the wrong woman.”
     
    “Perhaps, but in the meantime I’ll enjoy myself.”
     
    “Here’s the book. Now, I really do need you to leave!”
     
    “Isaac, we’ve been friends for a long time so I feel like I need to give you a warning. Those rumors about you and students are starting again. I had someone bring it to my attention again today. Something about that Hanover girl. The cheeky one from earlier.”
     
    “Are you accusing me of something, sir?” Isaac asked in a formal tone.
     
    “No, Isaac, but I do have to investigate these things.”
     
    “Great. You investigate. I’ll be here if you find something.”
     
    I hear Dean Price begin to protest again, but it's clear Isaac is ushering him to the door. He tells him he will see him next week and to have a good night. Price is still protesting when the front door closes and locks. I stay in the pantry; I don't want to face Isaac yet. I hear him looking for me but I don't respond. I'm still crying and I have no interest in hashing this out again. The pantry door opens.
     
    "Liv, what are you doing? He's gone," he sees my tears when I look up at him, "Are you all right?"
     
    "No, Isaac, I had to hide in a fucking pantry because you had someone at your house. That is not normal.”
     
    "I understand. If it helps any, the dean is not a regular visitor to my home.”
     
    “That’s not the point.”
     
    Isaac looks confused as he offers me his hand. He realizes I'm not going to leave the pantry so he sits on the floor next to me. Our shoulders are touching, but I refuse to melt into his arms again. I start grasping at loose threads in our would-be relationship.
     
    "What's your favorite kind of music?"
     
    He laughs, "Definitely 80's ballads. You?"
     
    "Same, though I have an eclectic taste in music and can be known to rap from time to time."
     
    "I'd like to see that.”
     
    He’s quiet for a few minutes as though he’s desperately trying to find a way to keep me from leaving.
     
    "Biggest pet peeve?" Isaac is trying to keep the conversation going.
     
    "Ignorance. Not stupidity, but ignorance. Some people just refuse to learn about the world around them. That irritates the shit out of me. You?"
     
    "Dog-eared books. I'm convinced those people are monsters."
     
    So far I don't hear anything I have a problem with. I'm learning more about him and that may not be the best idea. I start to stand up but he beats me to my feet and helps me up. He takes my hand and leads me to my favorite couch. We kiss achingly slow. It feels like a goodbye.
     
    "Isaac, what just happened is one of the biggest reasons we should not be together. I can't hide in the pantry every time someone rings your door bell. You can't lie to people about a phone on your coffee table."
     
    "It wasn’t that big of a lie."
     
    "I'm being serious, Isaac; we need to talk about this for real.”
     
    "No. Talking about it makes it more likely that you'll convince me that this can't happen. I know why it shouldn't, but I just can't bring myself to care. Maybe I'll go on sabbatical until you graduate. When do you graduate?"
     
    "This is my senior year. I graduate in the spring. Who would teach your classes if you don't?"
     
    "The university would find someone," he almost pleads with me.
     
    “No. Isaac, you have no idea how badly I want to say yes and stay here with you. I want to give this a try. I want to see how this would turn out, but we can’t.”
     
    Isaac stares at me for a few moments, I can see the conflict and pain in his eyes. He takes a deep breath, “Liv, I hate it, but you’re right. I’m sorry.”
     
    I put my hand on his and give him one last kiss. It hurts and I can

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