Chapter 171

Emma lingered in the now-quiet classroom for a moment after the last student left, letting the calm settle back in. She closed the piano lid gently, stacked her papers, and slid her laptop into her bag. The room looked reset again—ready, orderly, peaceful.

She pulled out her phone and typed.

Emma: Classes are over for the day. I survived 😌 You ready when you are.

The reply came a beat later.

Abigail: Look at you, Professor. I’m wrapping up now—give me ten?

Emma smiled at the screen.

Emma: Take your time. I’ll meet you at the car.

Abigail: Deal.

Emma locked the classroom, double-checked the door, and walked out into the afternoon light. Campus felt louder now, fuller—students crossing paths, laughter drifting, the hum of a day winding down. She made her way to the parking garage and leaned against Abigail’s car, scrolling idly, replaying little moments from class in her head.

A few minutes later, she heard familiar footsteps.

Abigail rounded the corner, backpack slung over one shoulder, that relaxed end-of-day smile already on her face. Emma straightened instinctively.

“There she is,” Abigail said, stopping in front of her.

Emma stepped in close. “Hey.”

They shared a quick, easy kiss—nothing rushed, just enough to say we made it.

“You ready?” Abigail asked, unlocking the car.

“Almost,” Emma said, sliding into the passenger seat. “Any chance we can stop by the store on the way home?”

Abigail laughed softly as she started the engine. “Of course. What do you need?”

Emma buckled in, glancing over with a small, hopeful smile. “Just a few things. I realized halfway through class I’ve been thinking about snacks all day.”

Abigail shook her head affectionately and pulled out of the parking lot. “Say less.”

Emma sank into the passenger seat as Abigail pulled out of the parking lot, the car easing into the flow of traffic. She let her head rest back for a moment, shoulders dropping now that the day was officially over.

Abigail glanced over at her. “So… how do you feel after your first day back teaching?”

Emma let out a slow breath, half-laughing. “Honestly? Relieved. I was holding so much tension in my body and didn’t even realize it until it was done.”

Abigail smiled. “That bad?”

“That intense,” Emma corrected. “Not in a bad way. Just… a lot. New students, new energy. I kept thinking, ‘Okay, don’t mess this up.'”

“You didn’t,” Abigail said easily. “You were glowing when I saw you.”

Emma turned her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I was nervous this morning. I don’t think I admitted that out loud.”

Abigail nodded. “I know. You do this thing where you get quiet when you’re trying to be brave.”

Emma laughed softly. “Rude. But accurate.”

They drove a few blocks before Emma spoke again. “Once I started playing, though… it all came back. My hands remembered what to do before my brain could spiral.”

“That’s when you’re in your element,” Abigail said. “When you forget to overthink.”

Emma reached over and rested her hand on Abigail’s thigh. “Having you around helped. Knowing you were on campus too.”

Abigail covered her hand briefly. “Anytime. We’re kind of a package deal.”

Emma smiled at that, then grew thoughtful. “It feels good to be back doing something that feels like me.”

Abigail glanced over again, softer this time. “I’m really proud of you.”

Emma exhaled, emotion flickering across her face. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”

They pulled into the store parking lot a few minutes later, the sun still hanging comfortably in the afternoon sky. Abigail parked close to the entrance, cut the engine, and hopped out first.

She walked around the front of the car and opened Emma’s door before she could even reach for the handle.

Emma smiled up at her. “Such a gentleman.”

Abigail grinned. “Always.”

Emma stepped out carefully, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, and Abigail closed the door behind her. She slipped her hand into the small of Emma’s back as they walked toward the entrance together, the automatic doors sliding open with a soft whoosh.

The store buzzed gently with people coming and going, carts rolling, music playing low over the speakers.

Emma immediately grabbed a basket. “Okay,” she said, already scanning the aisles. “Snack mission.”

Abigail laughed. “I should be scared, huh?”

“Very,” Emma said seriously. “I don’t even know what I want yet, which means it’s going to be a mix of things that make zero sense.”

Emma drifted toward the snack aisle, picking things up and putting them back as she went. Crackers. Fruit cups. Yogurt. A bag of chips she hadn’t seen in years.

“Ooo,” she said, holding up a box. “These.”

Abigail raised an eyebrow. “Those again?”

“Yes,” Emma said firmly, dropping them into the basket. “Don’t judge me.”

Abigail chuckled, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “I wouldn’t dare.”

Emma kept browsing, grabbing a few more things, then pausing in front of the refrigerated section. “Do we still have string cheese?”

“I think so,” Abigail said.

“Still getting more,” Emma replied, already reaching for it.

Abigail eased the cart to a stop beside Emma in the snack aisle, already half full with chips, crackers, and a very specific assortment of pregnancy-approved treats. Emma was comparing two boxes with intense focus when Abigail leaned in and kissed her temple.

“I’m gonna grab another cart for dinner,” Abigail said softly. “You stay right here.”

Emma smiled without looking up. “Don’t rush me. This is important work.”

Abigail chuckled. “I see that.”

Emma waved her off without looking, already focused. “Okay. Don’t forget the garlic this time.”

“That was one time,” Abigail called back, smiling as she turned down another aisle.

She left Emma with the cart and headed back toward the front of the store, weaving past other shoppers until she reached the line of carts by the entrance. She grabbed one, tested the wheels, then turned it around and headed back into the aisles—this one already mentally labeled dinner only.

She moved with purpose now.

Produce first.

She loaded the cart steadily:

Fresh collard greens

Yellow onions

Garlic bulbs

Green bell peppers

Then meat:

Chicken wings

Chicken thighs

Smoked turkey legs for the greens

Dairy and dry goods followed:

Buttermilk

Heavy cream

Butter

Elbow macaroni

Sharp cheddar

Colby jack

Cornmeal

Flour

Cornbread mix

She paused briefly, then added hot sauce and a carton of chicken stock. Muscle memory at this point. Comfort food meant intention.

As Abigail reached for the last item on her list, she felt the familiar shift in the air before she heard the voice.

“Abigail.”

She didn’t rush. She placed the item into her cart, adjusted the handle, and only then turned.

“Professor Shields.”

Shields offered a polite, almost careful smile. “We seem to keep crossing paths.”

Abigail’s expression stayed neutral. “We do. And I want to address that.”

The smile faltered just slightly.

“I’m listening,” Shields said.

“I don’t think these run-ins are accidental anymore,” Abigail replied calmly. “And I don’t feel comfortable with that.”

Shields inhaled, straightening her posture. “I shop here too. That doesn’t mean—”

“I’m not accusing you of following me,” Abigail said, cutting in gently but decisively. “I’m saying the conversations that happen when we do run into each other cross a line for me.”

Shields’ eyes flicked away briefly, then back. “I’ve only tried to be friendly.”

“I understand that may be how it feels on your end,” Abigail said. “But intention doesn’t outweigh impact.”

The words hung between them.

Abigail continued, her voice steady. “Outside of class, I don’t want personal conversations. I don’t want comments about my mood, my happiness, or my life. I’m engaged. I’m starting a family. And I need very clear boundaries.”

Shields’ jaw tightened. “You’re asking me not to speak to you?”

“I’m asking you to keep things strictly academic,” Abigail corrected. “Office hours. Class. Coursework. That’s it.”

There was a longer pause now.

“I never meant to make you uncomfortable,” Shields said more quietly.

“I believe you,” Abigail replied. “And this is me making sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Shields nodded once, slower this time. “Then I’ll respect that.”

“I expect that you will,” Abigail said, not unkind, but unwavering.

Another beat passed.

“I’ll see you in class,” Shields said.

“Yes,” Abigail replied. “That’s where our interaction belongs.”

She angled her cart away, signaling the conversation was finished.

As she walked off, she didn’t look back. Her shoulders stayed relaxed, her breath steady.