Page 276 of The Professor's Wife

I took a deep breath.

Even if Tristan had left, I still had to go. Somehow. Sometime soon.

“I’ll figure it out,” I whispered.

The ocean offered no response.

“I will.”

I sat there until the sun shifted and the shadows beneath the benches shortened.

Then I returned to the hotel.

The camper van had not returned. I went upstairs anyway. Room 333 waited at the end of the hall.

I knocked.

Nothing.

I waited.

Knocked again.

“Tristan?”

Silence.

I paced the hallway for nearly an hour, checking the elevator every time it chimed. Each time the doors opened and someone else stepped out, my hope collapsed a little further.

Eventually, the same housekeeper from earlier returned.

She stopped beside her cart and looked at me with open concern.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

I quickly wiped beneath my eyes.

“My friend.”

“Have you called him?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

The admission earned me a strange look.

“He might be downstairs,” I added. “Or out.”

She glanced toward Tristan’s door.

“Would you like me to contact the front desk?”

“No.”

The answer came too quickly.

I collected myself and forced a smile.

“No, thank you. I’m sure he’ll be back.”