Page 136 of The Professor's Wife

“To school?” he’d retorted, shocked. “We agreed you’d be here. You said you wanted to start a family with me.”

“I haven’t fallen pregnant yet, Oliver.”

“You said you were happy at home.”

“I need a life, too! I can’t spend every day waiting around for you.”

“You could have at least read my book—”

“I don’t care about philosophy, Oliver!”

Oh, God.

Did I really say that?

Panic bubbled up inside me. I looked around, my nose wrinkling because this was indeed Oliver’s cabin. The window blinds were drawn, but muted light flooded through the creases.

It didn’t look like morning sunlight.

“Oliver…” My dry mouth pushed out his name as I attempted to sit up. The second I moved, my vision spun and I collapsed back down.

A strange sound cut through the air.

A deep clank that sounded every time I tried to move.

What the hell was going on?

Why was I so tired and dizzy? I hadn’t consumed alcohol, but what if I’d had another blackout and drank without remembering?

Oliver would never forgive me.

“Philosophy is your thing, your passion—your life! Not mine!”

I winced at the memory and tried to move again. The same sound followed. It happened every time I moved my leg.

My breaths came out fast and hard.

What the hell—

The room was still spinning when I heard the door open. I turned my head and watched Oliver step through.

I knew it was him because I recognized his casual clothes. I’d washed and ironed them numerous times. The fitted dark polo I could never manage to get all the pilling out of and the gray khaki pants.

“Oliver?”

He came to me, and his hands were all around me. Running through my hair. Delicately holding my hand.

Tears slipped from my eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know what I was sorry for, but I knew I had done something wrong.

I always did something wrong.

Always had something to fix.

But why was I here?

I was so confused. Something had happened last night. I had done something awful—