Page 205 of The Professor's Wife

She waved the list. “Glad I have work today. Why are you so tired?”

“Nightmares,” I admitted.

She looked concerned. “What sort of nightmares?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even remember them.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “You can feel them after you’re awake. My nana used to tell me to sit really still and let the emotions run through you. Don’t think. Just sit still and wait for it to come back to you.”

I smiled softly. “I probably wouldn't want to do that if it was a nightmare, right?”

She hummed in thought. “Dreams tell you a lot about yourself. They could be repressed memories, or feelings you don’t want to confront, or things you’re terrified of happening. My nana used to say dreams sometimes show us the roads we didn’t take. Another life we might have lived.”

I let out a forced laugh. “I hope I’m doing great in that other life.”

She looked down at my body and grinned. “It would be hard to beat this reality. Dressed to the nines in a beautiful dress. Living in this big beautiful house. Married to a handsome professor. I’m sorry, but you’re right, it must have been a nightmare if it was the opposite of this life.”

“Yeah.” My smile was tight. Okay, this conversation needed to end. “So, when can I expect you?”

She looked down at the list, and as before, she didn’t blink twice about the ambiguous request for “distilled water.”

“I’ll be back in the afternoon,” she said. “I’ll ring the doorbell to let you know the groceries are out here. Should be before three.”

“Great, thank you, Louise.”

She left, looking relieved. I realized I hadn’t asked her how she was going. Work might be drying up, and she might depend on orders like mine to make a living. I would get Oliver to tip her big. Nothing made him feel better than being recognized as a charitable man, especially if it helped a mother juggling side jobs.

After my morning duties were completed, I went to the nook area on the upper level and sat down in my white leather armchair. Instead of pulling out my latest read, I clasped my hands together and tried to relax my body. That odd feeling had continued to randomly hit me all morning. I knew it had something to do with my nightmares.

The only sound was the wall clock ticking. I shut my eyes and cleared my thoughts. I was good at that. Thinking wasn’t good all the time. Your thoughts could be your greatest enemy. Yes, I let that one last thought in before my mind went quiet.

Darkness greeted me, but not the sort of darkness I saw when I shut my eyes. This onefeltdifferent. It was a dark that was interrupted by shadows. My skin broke out in goosebumps as I knew I was in this dark place. That in my dream, my head was staring straight ahead at the shadowy movements in front of me, but I wasn’t alone, and that frightened me.

My heart picked up. I had turned my head to look at what was behind me. One large figure, tall and commanding. Their eyes stared at me, imploring me to come closer. Terrified, I didn’t, and then another smaller figure emerged along this being’s side—

My eyes snapped open to a commotion coming from Oliver’s office. I was shaking. My hands had squeezed together painfully. Whatever that dream I had was, it was not something I wanted to know. Not when my heart was pounding furiously in my chest and I felt swamped with grief and loss.

The noise from Oliver’s office didn’t go away. It was unusual he would ever raise his voice, but the more I listened, the more I realized it wasn’t his voice at all. The hairs along my arms rose. I’d never heard someone lose it at my husband in all the years I’d been with him.

I began to move—

Don’t.

I stilled at the voice in my head. My gut tugged at me to stay still, though I craned my head and looked down the hallway. His office door wasn’t that far away, and if I reasoned that I was worried for whatever was happening—

Don’t.

This time, the feeling came stronger. My instincts roared not to move. There would be other things I could be sneaky about, but this was too risky. He might catch me overhearing his meeting and the punishment would not be worth knowing what was wrong.

I didn’t move.

Suddenly, his office door whipped open. His footsteps came pounding down the hallway. He found me quickly, looking flustered and angry as he shrugged his light jacket on.

“I have to go,” he said, breathlessly. “I’m having issues with a student, and I need to speak to the dean.”

Don’t ask him what happened.

I swallowed and feigned concern. “That sounds stressful, Oliver. Is there anything I can do to help?”