Page 219 of The Professor's Wife

“What?” I wondered.

“Déjà vu,” he whispered. “I’ve been here before.”

I looked around us. “The restaurant? The street?”

But his eyes were pinned on me now. “No.”

His concentrated look sent shivers throughout my body. I crossed my arms, burying my nails into my skin to be sure I wasn’t dreaming because the feeling of floating struck me. I felt cloudy and light, and my heart wouldn’t stop beating fast.

“I heard once that déjà vu means you’re following the right path,” I forced out, trying to ease the moment. “It’s a reminder that you’re supposed to be right here, in this time and place.”

His intensity didn’t lessen. I was his only focus. “I thought it meant your mind remembered something before you did.”

“Remembered what?”

His gaze moved slowly over my face. “A place. A person. Something unfinished.”

“You can’t remember someone you’ve never met.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He held my gaze for a moment longer before rubbing a hand over his jaw and looking away. “I’m either not sober enough for this conversation or not drunk enough.”

A second laugh escaped my lips, and it felt just as delightful as the first. “Stay sober.”

He smirked, and my chest squeezed at how gorgeous this man was. “Where were you two weeks ago?”

Secretly watching my husband get away with something sinister.

That thought didn’t even sour my mood. I smiled in response and then glanced once more at Oliver. Angela had a receipt in her hand, so they’d paid for the meals, but now a waitress was standing beside them, most likely laughing at another one of his hideous jokes. Both women were so close, they could probably smell his breath.

At this rate, the whole fucking restaurant would unknowingly need my rescuing, and I still.

Didn’t.

Move.

“I’m staying at the Queen’s Garden Hotel,” he said abruptly. “It’s a block from here.”

“I know where it is,” I replied quietly, looking down at my feet.

“I’ll be singing here again tomorrow afternoon, and then at the Feast & Fable the day after.”

I stiffened a nod, knowing where he was going with this. “You’ll be busy.”

His face fell, unhappy with my response. Still, he leaned over, his gaze trapped on my face. I wasn’t looking back anymore.

“What’s your name?”

I shook my head. “Why?”

“I want to know.”

“For what purpose?”

His chuckle was dry. “If I told you, you’d be running.”