Page 89 of The Professor's Wife
“I know that.”
“I defended you—us.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did—”
“He wasn’t being awful.”
His eyes darkened. “He was being a dickhead, Daze! Don’t soften what you heard.”
“He was being protective of his friend—”
“I didn’t ask for his fucking advice.”
“I worry I’ve put a wedge between the two of you.”
He leaned toward me, gritting out, “He put the wedge there, Daze. He was out of fucking line.”
“Was he, though?” I threw my hands into the air, feeling undone with frustration. “Their eyes are open. Mine are, too. The only one who refuses to see what’s happening is you.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You’re better off on your own!”
His nostrils flared with fury. “I know what’s good for me.”
I opened the door and stepped out. The air was sharp, biting. I walked a few feet away, my arms crossed and heart pounding. His door slammed open, and he came up behind me.
“Nothing he said was wrong,” I said without turning around. “I do have secrets! I can’t open up to you about them. Not yet. Maybe not ever. And it’s not fair to you.”
Tristan’s voice, raw and panicked, cut through the air. “Don’t go down this road, Daze.”
I turned, and he was already there, grabbing my wrist. It wasn’t hard, but it was firm.
He didn’t want me out of reach.
His eyes were wild, desperate.
I looked down at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes now. “Tristan, you’ve jumped into this, and you’re clinging hard.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Are you heartbroken?”
The question caused him to still. “What?”
“Forrest said you’re moving on too soon.”
“Ignore what Forrest said.”
“I can’t!” I looked up at him now, wanting to see the truth in his eyes. “Like him, I want to protect you, too. If you’re heartbroken…that changes things, Tristan. I need to know. Please.”
He shook his head quickly. “I’m not heartbroken, Daze. That relationship died a long time ago, even while I was still with her. We were young, and we wanted different things from life.”
