Page 63 of The Professor's Wife

Whatever interest those women had shown him no longer mattered. They might as well have disappeared. Tristan’sattention had narrowed completely to my mouth, and the jealousy tightening my chest finally began to loosen.

Eventually, Tristan stood, collected our coffees, and nodded toward the van. I followed him back across the parking lot, aware of the women still watching.

He opened the passenger door for me. His hand settled briefly at my waist as I climbed inside, steadying me even though I didn’t need it.

That small touch should not have meant anything.

It did anyway.

For a while after we returned to the road, music filled the silence between us. Tristan tapped his fingers against the wheel, occasionally glancing my way, while I ate and watched the trees blur past the window.

The sweetness helped.

The confusion didn’t.

I kept thinking about the woman at the gas station. About how natural it had looked for her to approach him. How easily another woman could fit into this life. Someone younger. Freer. Someone who had packed a suitcase and left home by choice instead of running with nothing but the dress on her back.

I wasn’t used to this. I had skipped all those messy years when younger women learned how to recognize jealousy, survive it, and eventually stop letting it fester in them. By thirty-two, I should have known what to do with the feeling.

Instead, it sat inside me raw and unfamiliar.

The question came out before I could stop it.

“What if you meet someone you want to marry one day?”

Tristan glanced at me, the question coming at him with surprise. “What?”

I tried to sound casual. “Does she need to agree to this lifestyle?”

He chuckled. “That’s not going to happen anytime soon.”

“But are you prepared for it to happen at all?”

He tapped his fingers to the beat of the next song, taking a few moments to answer. “No. I’d never get anything done if I had to be prepared for every little thing that might happen. If that sort of thing scared me, I never would have done this.”

“So, you’re going to drive forever?” I asked, unable to keep the dryness from my tone.

I didn’t understand him. I envied his carefree life, but at the same time, how could he live so happily without a clear direction? I needed to understand because I was currently directionless, and I didn’t know how to cope with that.

He smiled at me, seeing the panic in my eyes. “I don’t have to think that far ahead, Daze. I’m looking after myself right now. That’s the perk of being alone.”

The perk of being alone.

His words reminded me that at some point, I would need to move along. He was living this way for himself, and eventually I would wear out my welcome.

Whatever adoration he felt for me would dwindle.

Like all things, this would end.

But his way of life didn’t have to.

“Well, I understand the allure,” I settled on saying.

Then I looked out the window at the open road.

With no destination in mind, I felt panicked and free at the same time. The road kept opening in front of me, offering no promises and asking for none in return.

For once, I didn’t know where I was going.