Page 192 of The Professor's Wife

It wasn’t just shame. It was survival. I’d spent years learning how to disappear inside a life that didn’t want me whole. And then Tristan came along, and for the first time, I felt seen. Not as someone’s wife or mother or someone broken. Just… me. And I clung to that feeling like a lifeline. I didn’t tell him because I was afraid he’d let go.

I needed more time.

To let the past catch up so I could finally lay it out. I’d edged so close. So damn close.

I grabbed a shopping bag and quickly packed it with my few articles of clothing and hygiene products. I had some cash in my wallet from the little work I’d picked up along the way. It wasn’t much, but I knew enough of this lifestyle now to find more cash in hand work.

I quickly changed into my blue dress. I threw on a pair of sunglasses and a hat when the door to the camper opened. My anxiety tripled. I didn’t look at Tristan as he stepped in and slammed the door shut. I felt him close behind me, and my heart raced.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

I held in my emotions as I forced out, “Packing.”

“What for?”

I still didn’t look at him. “You know why.”

As I leaned down to put my deodorant stick into the bag, the bag was ripped out from under me. My heart jerked wildly as I looked back at Tristan. My emotions swirled like a vortex as he tipped it upside down and all my things scattered to the floor. His nostrils were flaring as he then threw the empty bag down. He was pissed beyond belief. “You’re not leaving me.”

Now my eyes were red and raw. “Tristan…”

He glared back at me and leaned down to my level, gritting out once more, “You’re not leaving me.”

Hot tears flooded out of my eyes. “I’m sorry, Tristan.”

“Sorry for what exactly?” he asked slowly, every word coated with ice. “That you were about to walk out on me too?”

“For not telling you.”

“Daze, put your fucking clothes away.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not going anywhere! Now ask me why again?”

My lips trembled. “Why?”

His face inched closer. He pulled the sunglasses from my face and looked into my crying eyes. His were wild with anger and hurt.

“Because you don’t get to decide for me that this is over.”

He kissed me, angry and desperate, and for one startled second I went still. Tristan felt it. He pulled back immediately, breathing hard, his hands lifting away from me.

“Tell me to stop.”

I stared at him.

“Daze.” His voice broke around my name. “Tell me.”

I caught the front of his shirt and dragged him back. “Don’t stop.”

That was all it took. His mouth found mine again, but his hands waited until I took one and pressed it against my waist. I pulled him down with me onto the mattress.

“You’re not leaving me,” he said, his eyes red and glistening. “How am I supposed to let you walk out when you’re the reason I fucking breathe again? Goddamn it, Daisy. Look what you’ve done to me.”

His face tightened. He turned away and punched the mattress beside my hip, then stared at his own hand as though the anger in it frightened him.

Just as he began to pull away, I wrapped my arms around him. “Don’t.” Tears clouded my vision. “We wander this worldtogether or not at all, remember? Nothing’s changed, Tristan. I still want it all with you.”