Page 87 of The Professor's Wife

“One year is still too soon. Hell, another year is still too soon.”

“Forrest, babe, calm down,” Tania said.

“She’s got secrets,” Forrest carried on. “And they might cost you.”

Tristan’s voice was sharper now. “I said I know what I’m doing, Forrest.”

Tania laughed nervously. “Keep your voices down. She might still be awake.”

I was.

And every word felt like a stone in my chest.

“You need to learn when to drop it,” Tristan said next, edgily. “We’re here to have a good time. I’m here to catch up with my friends, not get interrogated about my life choices.”

“I’m being a good friend by protecting you from what is so fucking obvious—”

“I don’t need your fucking protection,” Tristan hissed, his voice dangerously low. “I’m a grown man, Forrest. I can protect myself.”

Forrest didn’t let it drop, though. “You’re looking out for this girl by the looks of things, but who’s looking out for you?”

“Forrest, stop,” Tania whispered.

“No,” Forrest retorted. “He does this, you know. He’s been self-destructive ever since his old man died—”

“Fucking watch yourself,” Tristan cut in sharply, his patience having bled dry. “Enough.”

An uncomfortable silence stretched on.

I’d never heard Tristan use that tone before.

Conflicted, I stared at the ceiling of the van, tracing the curve of the roof with my eyes. I knew Forrest wasn’t wrong. I was hiding things—things I hadn’t told Tristan. Things I hadn’t said aloud in years.

Hell, Tristan knew it, too.

But I wasn’t a thief with ulterior motives.

I turned onto my side, pressing my cheek against the pillow. I didn’t cry. I didn’t move. But I knew, deep down, that I would have to move along soon. Tristan deserved someone whole and uncomplicated. Someone Forrest wouldn’t have to warn him about.

And I wasn’t her.

Not yet.

Not ever.

The morning was quiet.

Too quiet.

Tania handed me a coffee in a biodegradable cup and smiled like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t talked about me. Looking indifferent, Forrest nodded at me once, then turned to Tristan and said something low. I didn’t catch it, but Tristan’s jaw tightened.

He was pissed off.

They shook hands briefly and then Forrest climbed into his van. Tania waved, and they rolled out, tires crunching over the gravel as they disappeared into the trees.

I wondered how much damage had been done by yesterday’s spat.

I dreaded thinking about it.