He nodded. “Of course.”

Liz watched as James plucked the ring out of the box and slid it onto Jamie’s finger. Jamie jumped around in circles before thrusting her hand out to Meredith and then Liz in between squeals.

Liz couldn’t think of a couple that she thought should be married more than Jamie and James. They just worked. They weren’t rushing into things, and they weren’t doing it for the wrong reasons. Liz could tell that it was going to really last. And she was so happy to have witnessed their moment, even if she had this strange feeling creeping through her . . . as if she couldn’t imagine herself going through that anytime soon.

She shook that thought away. It was probably just residual jitters from Clay’s comments. Who really knew whether they wanted to marry someone after only two months anyway?

Chapter 5

ALL THE WRONG REASONS

Thank you all so much! Next week we will be discussing the new digital age, so please be sure to read chapters six and seven in the textbook and the three articles assigned on the syllabus,” Professor Mires yelled over the shuffling of students stuffing everything into their backpacks at the end of class. “Please remember to turn in your assignment here on my desk. I’ve graded last week’s papers and they are sitting in alphabetical order over here.” She placed a stack of papers, likely bleeding red ink, on the other side of the desk. School had started three weeks ago and this was already their third round of papers.

Liz closed her computer with a sigh. Professor Mires had recommended that she take her upper-level political journalism class in the spring after Liz had excelled in the news writing and editing prerequisites and then the special topics class she had taken over the summer. She had wanted to take the professor’s class anyway, so it was an easy yes, but she wasn’t quite prepared for how much extra time she would be spending.

Professor Mires had also engineered an extra three-hour course as a field credit to prepare for the political journalism colloquium that she and Liz were orchestrating at the university for the end of the semester. Plus Liz had research hours assisting the professor with the papers she was sending out for publication. Add aiding Massey with running the Washington division of the newspaper and Hayden’s insistence on pushing for her to be editor, and it was no surprise that Liz was a bit overwhelmed.

The only thing that really bothered her was her slacking on tennis practice, but school and her career came first.

Liz pulled her paper out of her backpack and placed everything else back inside. She walked down to the front of the classroom and waited as everyone rifled through the stack of papers to claim theirs. She smiled at Professor Mires and handed in her draft.

The benefit of seeing her professor all the time was that sometimes she gave Liz ideas for what to write about or looked over the copy before she turned it in. A lot had changed since last summer, when Liz had been terrified of getting a C in her class.

“Thank you, Liz,” Professor Mires said, taking the paper out of her hand. Her professor had dropped the formality of calling her Miss Dougherty once Liz started working for her, but Liz still couldn’t get used to calling her Lynda. “Will you stay after so we can review the incoming submissions for the colloquium together?”

“Sure.” She had been expecting that. Last semester they had put together panels, and the call for papers had gone out near the end of the semester. Professor Mires had also sent some personal invitations to prominent professors in the field, journalists at top newspapers and news broadcast venues, as well as some politicians. Since then they had been flooded with inquiries and responses to their call, and Liz had been tasked with sifting through the mountain of messages.

The rest of the class slowly filtered out, leaving only the papers of students who hadn’t shown up. Liz’s was sitting at the top, and she grabbed it, reading through the notes. She had received an A. From the looks of the students who had left before her, not many others had. Another benefit of taking Professor Mires’s summer course.

Once everyone left, Liz followed the other woman back to her office. She took a seat across from the professor and waited as the computer booted up.

“That was great work this week,” Professor Mires said.

“Thank you,” Liz said cautiously. Those words normally came with a but.

“Do you feel challenged in my class?”

Oh boy! It wasn’t that she didn’t feel challenged, but she enjoyed the subject so much that it didn’t feel so much like work.

“Um . . . yes?” she said, it coming out more like a question. “This is the subject I want to move into. I find it very interesting and valuable for my future.”

“Good. Good,” Professor Mires said absentmindedly as the computer brightened before her eyes. She took the distraction to filter through her emails and Liz just waited. “This colloquium is very important to me and to the university. It is truly part of my life’s greatest work to be able to bring together my colleagues along with prominent journalists and politicians to foster more research and development, as well as the potential for great educational and networking opportunities for everyone involved. I want everyone to benefit from this, and I want you to participate.”

Liz sat frozen. How could she participate more than she already was?

“I would love for you to present some of your own research at a special topics in undergraduate research in political journalism on Friday afternoon.”

“Me?” Liz asked, excitement bubbling up in her chest.

Professor Mires looked back at her from behind her horn-rimmed librarian glasses with a smile. “Yes. I thought I would include your final research paper for the semester. Of course, that would mean it would be due a couple weeks early, but we could work with the preliminary drafts, if that suits you.”

“That would be . . . wow,” Liz said, speechless.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes! Absolutely.”

Professor Mires’s face brightened further. “Are you sure you’re set on becoming a reporter? You would do wonderfully in graduate school.”

Liz’s head buzzed with the compliment. “I’m open to different options, but I’ve always wanted to be a journalist.”

“Well, don’t rule grad school out,” she said with a nod of her head. “Now go on. That’s all I wanted to talk about. You can respond to these emails tomorrow during your research hours.”