Page 215 of The Professor's Wife

There was something about his voice that tugged at me in the most peculiar ways. I found myself yearning for a connection that couldn’t possibly exist.

I must have imagined the whole thing, which was odd because I had let go of romantic notions a very long time ago.

He had made me feel something, though.

Something familiar, even though I had never felt that particular ache before.

Thoughts of Rowe and June raced through my mind, filling me with grief, but this was different.

This felt like the absence of something I had never known belonged to me.

Crazier than all of that, I wanted to go back outside and watch him again. I wanted to be close to him.

The idea that I might never see him again—

I swallowed and drank my entire glass of water, my hand unsteady.

I did my best to remain present. It took literally everything inside me to sit there and pretend to give a crap.

Thankfully, Oliver didn’t pay me much attention. The others were absorbed in their worship of academia.

I took no part in it.

I wasn’t alone.

A familiar professor looked as though he wanted to stick a needle in his eye. Patrick’s gaze flickered to mine, and his browsrose in a way that implied this was never going to end and we were trapped—but at least we were trapped together.

We would endure this together.

Patrick had always been down-to-earth like that, and unsurprisingly, Oliver had never been a big fan of the old professor.

I was going to get Patrick a Christmas present that year simply for that look.

A thoughtful gift, too. Like a mug covered in Western philosophers. Some Berkeley and Voltaire. Maybe I could have it custom-made and include Dracula among them, just for shits and giggles.

Patrick would appreciate that.

I smiled genuinely at the thought, happy for the distraction.

Then I tuned out and simply existed there in Oliver’s world, forcing shrimp salad down my throat while daydreaming about chocolate sundaes and waffles slathered with raspberry jam.

I thought of the singer the entire time.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

I stood outside the restaurant, waiting for Oliver to pay the bill. I looked through the restaurant window and stifled a sigh. He was talking to Angela, the youngest professor in his department. They were feet from the payment desk, and she was inching her way closer to him. I should probably put a stop to that. She might think I was marking my territory if I intervened, but she wouldn’t know I was secretly protecting her from the demon.

Yes, yes, I should do that.

Except my legs didn’t move.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t save everyone. My will felt extinguished. The more I detached from my reality, the further away from pain I was. It felt like I was finally getting it right. I could continue to exist if I stopped feeling altogether. Poor Angela, who was very aware she was standing too close to a married man, needed to figure shit out in the meantime.

I looked away and continued to wait on the curb beside the restaurant garden beds. The streets were emptying out. It was close to eleven at night. The underground parking lot was a block away, but it may as well have been on another planet. I looked up at the sky, sad that I couldn’t catch the stars in the downtown area. It would have been a lovely sight because the skies were clear, not a cloud in sight.

What if you just ran right here and now?

The voice came on suddenly. I stilled, frowning.