An errant thought crept into her consciousness. I know where Ruth lives. She still had Ruth’s home address in her phone; it would be easy to drive there again.

  It was a terrible idea. Ruth could be day-drinking in her underwear for all Caitlyn knew. It would be inappropriate—a boundary violation.

  Then again, what was the worst that could happen?

  Assuming Ruth wouldn’t fire her for the intrusion—and Caitlyn was certain she wouldn’t—the worst possible outcome was that Ruth would be angry…with Chloe. Not with Caitlyn, who would wake up Monday morning unemployed in every sense of the word. Chloe didn’t care about Ruth’s opinion anyway—any residual annoyance wouldn’t bother her.

  The phone on the desk rang. Caitlyn glanced at the caller ID. It was an external number, which could mean any number of unpleasant possibilities: an unhappy student or parent, a reporter hoping to bypass Piper, a vendor making cold calls. Fuck them all.

  Caitlyn fired off an email to Gary, asking him to cover the phone, then logged out of the computer and shoved her keys into her purse. If Ruth wasn’t coming to campus, Caitlyn would go to her.

  * * *

  Ruth flipped from MSNBC to CNN, then back again. Daytime cable news was inferior even to the networks’ tedious primetime offerings. Not having a nine-to-five job—or in Ruth’s case, playing hooky because she couldn’t stand another second—did not mean one lacked the capacity to comprehend more than cliché talking points regurgitated by Z-list hacks.

  How do they have time for all this chatter? Is there no actual news?

  A knock came from the front door.

  Ruth turned her head and scowled. A surprise visitor? Unacceptable. No one she wanted to see would show up without contacting her first.

  It was probably a solicitor or some other odious pest. Sighing, she settled back into the cushions.

  She tensed as another thought occurred to her. Had a reporter come to her home, seeking comment about the Tribune article?

  Ruth had nothing to say to the press, but she found herself itching to know for sure. She turned off the TV, tiptoed to the window, and slid a single slat out of place so she could peer at her front porch undetected.

  Chloe stood on her doorstep in a long skirt, a burgundy blouse, and high heels. She shifted between her feet as she waited.

  Ruth pulled back from the window. What was Chloe doing there? She could have texted or called if there was an emergency.

  Chloe must have seen the article by now. Had she come to offer support? The possibility filled Ruth with a swirl of affection and alarm.

  She started toward the door, then glanced down at her outfit: sweatpants and a gray T-shirt that said The Art Institute of Chicago across the chest. No bra. Should she run upstairs and get one?

  Hell, Chloe had already seen her wearing less. Ruth straightened and opened the door.

  Chloe’s head jerked up. “Hi.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Chloe scanned Ruth’s outfit, then quickly returned her gaze to Ruth’s face. “I’m sorry to bother you on your day off, but…well, I saw the article in the Tribune, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Of course I’m okay.” It came out in a bark, causing Chloe to flinch.

  “I guess this was a mistake.” Chloe’s eyes were big and vulnerable like a wounded kitten.

  How could she turn Chloe away when she looked at her like that? “Fine. Come on in.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Ruth stepped back. “Yes.”

  “I like your house,” Chloe said as she walked in. “I mean, of course I already saw it when I was here the one time. I didn’t look around or anything, but out of the corner of my eye, I couldn’t help noticing that it was nice.”

  “Thank you.” Ruth’s gaze drifted over her living room.

  A blanket lay crumpled on the couch, and a dirty plate and mug adorned the coffee table—visible evidence that she’d spent the morning moping in front of the television.

  “Let’s sit down.” Ruth hastily folded the blanket and sat stiffly beside it on the couch.

  Chloe sat on the love seat, facing her.

  “I appreciate the thought, but you really didn’t need to check on me. The article was discouraging, but I’m fine. I know you’re aware that I have a history of depression, but I assure you, I’m not—everyone takes personal days, even people who take psychiatric medication.”

  “Oh God.” Chloe’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t worried because of your medication. I just thought you might want to talk about it with someone who supports you.” She lowered her gaze, then looked up shyly through her long lashes. “I know I’d want to talk about it.”

  Ruth’s shoulders loosened at Chloe’s words. She cares about me. She pulled her legs up to the couch and curled them underneath her. “All right. Let’s talk.”

  * * *

  Caitlyn did her best not to react to the unexpected sight of Ruth’s natural beauty. Her hair was soft without products, and her face was free of even the minimal makeup she wore to work. Without a bra, the loose T-shirt showed her teardrop-shaped breasts.

  She had never seen Ruth look so informal. Yet despite the casual attire, Ruth didn’t seem comfortable. With gray circles beneath her eyes and her forehead creased from overthinking, she looked tired and tense.

  Feeling overdressed in her blouse and skirt, Caitlyn wished she could change into pajamas and curl up on the sofa as they talked like friends. Instead, her posture was straight and compact—legs together, her hands firmly in her lap. “So, did you know the article was coming?”

  Ruth nodded wearily. “I didn’t know the details, but the reporter asked for a comment. Piper talked to him a few days before the article came out.”

  “Yeah, I saw Piper’s statement.” Her very short statement. Caitlyn knew Piper was on Ruth’s side, but the article made it sound as though she hadn’t said much in Ruth’s defense.

  “That’s not Piper’s fault.” Ruth seemed to read her thoughts. “She told him all about our efforts and our accomplishments, but he didn’t use most of the information. I suppose it didn’t fit the narrative he’d already constructed.”

  “I thought it was incredibly biased, like he wanted to make you look bad. It isn’t right.” Her blood pressure rose all over again as she thought of the hack reporter who had done this to Ruth. How dare he impugn her motivations when all she ever tried to do was good?

  “Steve wanted this to happen, and he succeeded. He probably fed the reporter everything and got his friends to speak on the record too.” Ruth raked her fingers through her hair. “A faculty in revolt makes juicy copy. We can respond with our talking points, but I can’t tell a reporter that Steve is a vindictive, misogynist ass who is pissed that I don’t let him do whatever he wants.”

  Caitlyn curled her lips in disgust. “I wish I could slap his smarmy face.”

  “Well, your presentation helped me to shoot down his ridiculous arguments at a board meeting.” The corner of Ruth’s mouth twitched. “That’s even better.”

  “I guess. But it didn’t stop him from smearing you in the paper.” Caitlyn wondered if she should bring up the section where he had essentially called her a failure as an academic. Tenure denial was a sensitive subject, but Caitlyn longed to know more. Her own rejection from academia was still raw, and she hated the thought of Ruth going through something similar in the past—or enduring a public reminder from faculty seeking to undermine her.

  This is my last chance to ask. Caitlyn took a deep breath. “Um, the article said you didn’t get tenure at the University of Mexico.”

  Ruth sat up straight, pain piercing her eyes. “Yes. That’s true.”

  “Was that publicly known before the article?” Caitlyn asked gently. “Or did Steve find out and tell the Tribune?”

  “It’s not a secret.” Her voice was even and stiff. “The committee asked what happened when I interviewed for this position. Some opposed my hiring on the grounds that I had ‘failed’ as an academic and therefore was unqualified to lead an academic institution. From what I understand, Steve was one of those people.”

  Caitlyn ached at the thought of Ruth forced to explain it over and over for the rest of her professional life. “I’m so sorry. That’s really unfair.”

  “Yes. Well. In a sense, he was right. I didn’t get tenure. I’ll have that mark on my career forever, and some will always judge me for it.” Her voice was gruff, but vulnerability shone in her eyes.

  “Anyone who holds it against you is an asshole.” It came out louder than Caitlyn had intended, but she couldn’t stand to see Ruth hurting. “Things like the academic job market, tenure, whether research gets published—it’s all subjective. These decisions come down to the whims of a handful of people who have their own biases and agendas, and anyone who reads more into it doesn’t understand.”

  Ruth gave her an odd look, one Caitlyn had seen several times at Pulaski. It meant she had said or done something Ruth didn’t expect. “That’s right,” Ruth said slowly. “Most people don’t understand the subjective nature of the process. Yet somehow, you do. You always seem to understand.” Her voice softened to a whisper. “How do you know so much about everything?”

  Shit. “Not everything.”

  “Well, you’re lucky you haven’t been through anything like this.” Ruth stared past Caitlyn with unfocused eyes. “My department only had six senior faculty at the time. I knew the chair didn’t like me. He didn’t like my politics or that I dared to have my own opinion even as a lowly assistant professor. Still, he led me to believe my tenure would be approved. All six of them told me, in so many words, that I’d be okay.”

  “Oh no. They lied to you?” Caitlyn’s stomach dropped. She’d heard stories of departments blindsiding faculty on academic blogs, but she’d never met anyone who had been the victim of such reprehensible behavior. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I think a couple of them were just cowards.” Ruth’s voice sounded far away. “They were afraid to tell me the truth, that I didn’t have the votes and never would. As for the others…” Her gaze darkened. “To this day, I believe they wanted to sandbag me. They were nice to my face, implying it was a done deal—and then they voted against me.”

  “That’s awful.” Caitlyn clenched her fingers into fists. “God. I can’t imagine working with people for years and then facing a vote like that. It must have felt so personal.” Her heart throbbed as she imagined Ruth going through it. Did she have friends back then? Or had she coped alone? Caitlyn wished that somehow she could have been there to hold her close and tell her it would be okay. Hell, she wished she could do it now.

  “Yes, it did feel personal, especially the way they conspired to keep it from me. If I had known what was coming, I could have tried to address their reservations, or I could have applied to other positions before my tenure clock was up. They made sure I wouldn’t do either one.” Ruth let out a long, defeated sigh. “Afterward, my depression…” Her mouth moved without words, and she waved her hand. “Let’s just say it was a rough time.”

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Caitlyn felt sick. How could anyone harm Ruth when she did nothing but work her ass off?

  “It taught me an important lesson.” Ruth’s voice hardened. “You can’t trust anyone.”

  Caitlyn longed to say, You can trust me. But it wasn’t true. The inescapable reality made her sick. “Is that why you…?” She hesitated. “Never mind.”

  “What?” Ruth cocked her head. “Just say it.”

  “Well, you can be sort of guarded at work. You’ve obviously had conflicts with some of the faculty, but I’ve hardly seen you relax around anyone—except students, and only when no one is watching. You also have a tendency to take on projects yourself rather than collaborate. So, I wondered if your past experience makes you less likely to trust the faculty and, um, people in general.” Caitlyn squirmed as she worried she’d gone too far.

  “I’m right not to trust them.” Ruth’s eyes flashed. “If you need evidence, read the Tribune. Kimberly came to our work group and smiled at me—then she told the reporter I’m a bad leader. You can’t trust anyone in academia. Whatever they say, they don’t have your back.”

  Caitlyn wanted to disagree, but what could she say? Ruth had been betrayed—by her old colleagues and now by the faculty who sided with Steve. “I hate that it’s like this for you. You work so hard and get nothing but shit for it. It’s not fair. I wish I could do something.”

  Ruth’s aggressive posture collapsed. “You know the truth, and you’re here for me. That does help. It means a lot.”

  And I’m leaving. Caitlyn fought tears. She desperately wanted to wrap her arms around Ruth, to express the affection that threatened to spill out of her any second. Her whole body hurt from how badly she wanted to close the distance between them.

  Fuck it. They had already hugged once. A second time wouldn’t jeopardize Chloe any more than Caitlyn’s previous behavior already had. And right now, in this moment, Ruth needed her. Pushing her reservations aside, she got up and sat next to Ruth on the couch.

  Ruth’s eyes widened, but she didn’t move away. “What…?” The word was barely audible.

  Caitlyn looked into Ruth’s eyes. “You’re a great president. You’re smart and strong, and you give your best to the college every day. Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you.” Their knees touched, the slight contact sending a shiver down Caitlyn’s back. “But I see it.”

  Ruth’s pupils dilated as she held Caitlyn’s gaze, not speaking or making a sound, and Caitlyn could see it, clear as those stunning blue eyes. She wanted this too.

  Caitlyn closed the gap and moved in for an embrace.

  At the same time, Ruth turned her head to the side, where her mouth collided with Caitlyn’s. She pulled back with a gasp—and then crushed their lips together as she sank into Caitlyn’s arms.

  The kiss overwhelmed Caitlyn’s senses and short-circuited her brain. Ruth tasted like coffee and cinnamon, mixed with the heady aroma of lavender that Caitlyn knew by heart. She couldn’t think and couldn’t stop.

  Abruptly, Ruth pulled back. “Oh no.” Her whole body went rigid. “I can’t—I shouldn’t have done that.” She scooted back, putting as much space between them as the couch would allow.

  Caitlyn watched in a daze. Her lips and her limbs were bereft at the loss of Ruth moving against her, melting into her.

  “Chloe, I’m your boss.” Ruth’s voice shook. “We can’t do this.”

  The name broke through. She thinks she kissed Chloe. Caitlyn’s heart rate jumped as adrenaline shot through her body. Oh God. Oh fuck. What have I done?

  “It’s unethical. An abuse of power.” Ruth covered her mouth. “I can’t believe I did that. I’ve never crossed that line with an employee. Never.”

  As she watched Ruth berate herself, a terrifying realization washed over Caitlyn. I crossed a line. Not just a line—a Rubicon. Somewhere along the way, she had passed the point where switching back was an option.

  Caitlyn’s chest heaved as she struggled to breathe. She was fucked. Completely fucked. It was one thing to fool a teacher, an acquaintance, or a boss who had barely noticed her assistant up until then. But she and Chloe had never managed to fool the people who truly knew them.

  Ruth knew her. They had connected intellectually, emotionally, and as people with more in common than Ruth could fathom. They’d tasted each other’s mouths.

  If Chloe came to the office on Monday morning, Ruth would sense right away that something was very wrong. Even if Chloe had the exact same analytical skills as Caitlyn, it wouldn’t matter. Ruth would know. And even if they could somehow switch back without Ruth catching on, Caitlyn couldn’t bear to do it. If she kept lying and allowed Ruth to think “Chloe” no longer gave a damn about her outside of a paycheck—if she denied Ruth the chance to make sense of what was happening—Caitlyn would become one more person who had betrayed Ruth. She couldn’t live with herself.

  It was too late. She’d embarked on a collision course with the truth, and there was no stopping the train.

  “I’m sorry.” Ruth rubbed her own arms with both hands. “Nothing can ever happen between us while you’re my assistant. I take full responsibility, and I—”

  “I’m not your assistant.” Caitlyn’s voice broke.

  “Of course.” Ruth met her gaze with eyes full of anguish. “You’re much more than that. But what matters is that I’m your boss.”

  “No, I mean I’m not…” She swallowed. “I’m not Chloe.”

  Ruth frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Time seemed to slow as Caitlyn prepared herself to speak. “My name is Caitlyn Taylor. I’m Chloe’s identical twin, and I’ve been coming to work in her place since June.”

  * * *

  “Come on. Be serious.” Chloe’s twin? It was preposterous. Yet even as Ruth spoke, some part of her brain recognized the truth—not in the literal words, but in the idea that she’d been deceived. All summer, she’d been trying to understand the parts of Chloe that didn’t add up or make sense. There was something she had missed, something important. She sucked in her breath as she struggled to make it make sense.

  “I need to show you something.” With shaky hands, Chloe reached for her purse and pulled out her phone. After a few swipes, she turned it toward Ruth. “This is me and Chloe at Christmas.”

  It was a photo of Chloe—except there were two of them. Sisters. Twins.

  Ruth recoiled. “What the hell?”

  “I’m sorry.” She trembled. “I’m so sorry for deceiving you.”

  “You’re not Chloe?” It came out shrill, almost hysterical. “Who the fuck are you?”