The Mathematician (Book 1)

2. Forgiveness Comes From Within

I ate lunch alone.

I mean, I ate all my meals alone, but I sometimes ate dinner with the staff in the kitchen if I was having a lonely night, but usually all my meals were eaten in solitary. Harry ate in his office and I didn't see much of him, other than sporadic glimpses around the house. 

Today I was eating my lunch outside on the large patio that bordered the enormous patch of land that came with the estate. It was a beautiful lawn with some bushes and trees and a greenhouse at the very end. A little cobbled path led you through the maze of it all, but today I was seated by the table on the patio, eating my turkey/Swiss cheese sandwich whilst working on my poor math skills. 

It was a cloudy day, overcast and slightly windy, but still warm enough to sit outside without blowing away or chilling down. I had wrapped myself in my hoodie and was so focused on my book, I didn't hear the footsteps approaching me until it was too late. 

"Calculus?"

I yelped in my seat and spun around to find Harry standing behind me, slightly leaned in over my shoulder to observe my book. "Jesus Christ, you gave me a shock."

He looked at my book for another moment with a raised brow, and I angrily slammed it shut. I was in no mood to get lectured. 

"Did you want something?"

Today he was dressed in a blue shirt with a pinstriped brown tie. He wore a jacket over it all, but thankfully not tweed. He looked like he was headed somewhere again. 

"For integral calculus, you really should read Newton's edition for a more in-depth understanding of the topic before you attempt to teach yourself the principles," He noted, leaning slightly more in over the table to glance at my hand-written papers. "If you ever plan on becoming a med student, you'll need a full understand of both differential and integral calculus to pass your courses."

I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms. Well, well, well. Look who decided to research the dog shooter. "Thanks. I know that. Anything else?"

He slowly leaned back and straightened out. "I've come to a conclusion."

"Oh?" I cocked a brow. This should be interesting. If he was talking to me voluntarily, something had to be up. 

He met my eyes and smiled tightly. "You owe me an apology."

"I owe you an apology?" I echoed with a mocking voice. I knew this was going to be good. 

He continued to look at me calmly, which oddly enough only gave him a much stronger appeal. "You worked behind my back with my brother to trick me into sleeping with you. You've yet to apologize, hence forgiveness can't be applied."

"I thought you weren't a forgiving man," I voiced and raised a slow brow. I crossed my legs under the table and watched him smile faintly again. 

"But I answer to logic," He reminded me. He pulled out the chair next to mine and took a seat. "And logically, because of what you did, it's common decency to apologize."

"Okay, but by your own terms," I said, squinting my eyes and looking thoughtfully up at the sky, "isn't apologizing just an empty word unless it holds some sort of proof, other than verbal? I mean, if convicts got out on just apologies, the whole legal system would fall apart."

"Are you suggesting that you won't be apologizing to me because the word itself holds no merits, or are you saying you intend to make up for your wrongdoings, Ms Berry?"

"Cassandra," I corrected him. Talking to him was like talking to a professor. If you didn't answer wisely, you didn't impress. "And the choice is yours. Although if I do apologize, I want an equal apology from you, for assuming the worst of me."