Page 83 of The Professor's Wife

We loaded the groceries into the camper. Tristan whistled under his breath, and no one who was pissed would whistle, right?

I felt my body relax at the sound.

I slid into my seat and watched him return the cart. He climbed in beside me and started the van, humming a tune now.

“Thanks for getting all that stuff,” I found myself saying, though it came out hardly above a whisper.

Tristan glanced at me, his lips curving. “It’s my pleasure, Daze.”

“I want to repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it—”

“Please.”

He stared deeply at me as the plea left my mouth sounding desperate.

“Daze,” he said gently.

That was all.

Just Daze as he watched me.

I didn’t know I was panting until my chest began to hurt. I looked away from him, my panic swelling like a balloon.

“It’s not right,” I whispered, more to myself than to him. “I should be able to pay you back, and I can if…if we just stop somewhere for a while, you know? I saw a few Now Hiring signs on the way into town. One might pay cash, and then I can work for a week or two and give you back what you’ve spent on me already, because this doesn’t feel right, Tristan. To just keep coasting with you like this. I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

When I finished, I braved a look his way.

He was staring down at the steering wheel, a lost look in his eyes and a frown I had never seen on him before. I waited for his response, and every second felt like agony because I didn’t know what he was about to say.

I braced myself as he finally opened his mouth and ran his tongue along his bottom lip, thinking.

“Daze, I don’t want you working just to pay me back. I bought you some stuff. I don’t expect anything in return. Not even a fucking thank you. I just wanted you to feel good and spoiled, not like being here with me somehow devalues you.”

My eyes blurred, and I shook my head, saying nothing because I was too choked up.

Devaluing myself by being here with him?

Was he crazy?

I wanted to smack my head for opening my mouth because now he was quiet and even looked sad, and I wanted the happy Tristan.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Now he gaped at me, confused. “What the fuck for, baby?”

“For dealing with my crazy.” I tapped my head. “I have problems, don’t I?”

He searched my eyes. “Daze, I got you some hygiene shit so you don’t feel like you’re slumming it with me, all right? And goddamn it, sweetness, I can afford it just fine, so relax.”

I gave a stiff nod. “Okay.”

He watched me for a few more moments, and I closed my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to make this awkward.”

“It’s more that I planned to do a lot more than just get you toiletries, Daze.” He let out a soft laugh, and I felt the tension ease with it. “You have to promise me you’ll try not to wig out, all right?”