Page 133 of The Professor's Wife

She tilted her head. “But you must hear about it all the time.”

I laughed nervously, glancing briefly at Oliver, who was staring emptily around the small circle. “Honestly, I…I don’t understand most of what he writes. Philosophy’s never been my thing.”

The group chuckled politely, but I saw it—Oliver’s jaw tightening. His smile didn’t reach his eyes anymore. He looked away, sipping his drink, and I felt the shift like a cold wind. His grip loosened around my waist, that possessiveness hidden now, and I—

I quickly tried to recover. “But I think it’s amazing how he makes people think. He’s brilliant.”

Too late.

The damage was done.

Later, as we sat at our table, I felt his silence like a weight. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t look at me. Just watched me with that unreadable, empty expression, his fingers tapping against the stem of his wine glass.

I didn’t understand what I’d done wrong.

I’d dressed up. I’d smiled. I’d tried. I always tried.

I’d tried for a baby.

I’d grieved June quietly, without making it about me.

I’d spent every day being a mother to Rowe, a perfect housewife, a woman who cooked and cleaned and made sure Oliver’s life at home was seamless.

I’d even gone to therapy. I’d told the therapist about the blackout that nearly ended my marriage. About the gaps in mymemory. About the way my childhood still haunted me. About how sometimes I reacted without knowing why.

I was doing everything I could to be better.

So why did I feel like I was failing? And for what? For not knowing about metaphysical realism or whatever the fuck?

Oliver hadn’t spoken to me since we left the group. He was stewing.

I tried to meet his eyes, but he looked away.

I didn’t know how to fix it.

I didn’t know what part of me was broken this time. What was wrong this time? What did he need me to fix? I would do it, but not if he didn’t help me understand.

Panic swirled inside me. All my insecurities brimmed to the surface, reminding me what an imposter I was. I didn’t know how many more things I could fix before he recognized what June warned me about. That he liked the idea of me. When that idea began to shatter, he would see the loser hiding beneath the surface.

It was already happening.

I was losing him.

And I didn’t know how to stop it.

I watched helplessly as he was called up to read before the audience. That empty expression was immediately replaced with that charming smile that melted me.

Only…it wasn’t directed at me.

He gave that smile to everybody else, leaving me bereft and panicked.

I could fix this, though.

I would.

I would do whatever it took for him to love me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO