Page 37 of The Professor's Wife

Be calm.

Hot coffee sloshed over the rim, scalding my hand. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t breathe until I slammed the door shut behind me. I set the cup down, my body shaking violently.

Then I remembered—

I wasn’t alone.

I spun around, and my heart jumped again, but only because the bed was empty. I strode across the room and checked the bathroom. The door was wide open.

Unoccupied.

“Tristan?” I called, but I already knew.

He was gone.

I collapsed onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. My damp hair clung to my cheeks, cooling them.

So that was it.

He was gone, and the rejection hit like a punch to the chest. I trembled again, but for different reasons.

I thought about last night. About how he had made me feel—

I scoffed and shook my head.

What had I expected?

That he would stay?

That he would wake up and want more?

This was better.

Cleaner.

No awkward goodbyes. No complications.

He hadn’t been part of the plan.

Not that I had one.

I was flying blind, and now it felt daunting. Heavy. Like a terrible weight had settled across my shoulders. I supposed I had expected something more from him. Maybe…maybe I had believed he was truly enamored with me. But he couldn’t have been if he had walked out without a glance or a word.

I tried to breathe calmly, but I kept thinking about home. About the cop car. About Tristan. About the tenderness still lingering in my body from his touch—

The door burst open.

I let out a sudden shriek, jumping out of my skin.

In that blink of an eye, I wondered if that was it. If everything was about to come crashing down on me.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Daze. I thought you’d still be out.”

My heart pounded. I was lightheaded. But then I saw his face—sheepish and contrite. He was wearing the same clothes as last night. A wrinkled white shirt. Disheveled hair. And now, in daylight, I saw him more clearly than ever.

Tristan was gorgeous.

Painfully so.