Page 67 of The Professor's Wife

“His family moved away before Rowe was even born. He told me he wanted nothing to do with ‘it.’” My smile was tight and fake. “Even claimed ‘it’ wasn’t his.”

“Sounds like he was a rotten kid himself,” Oliver returned.

I nodded, whispering, “We were sixteen.”

I squirmed a little, wondering how Oliver would take that news. He didn’t know my age, but one look at me and you knew I was young. Not young like the new kids starting school, but young anyway. Plus, he knew the age of my son.

I wondered if his opinion of me was tainted by my choices, though if it was, perhaps my own opinion of him was wrong and I’d finally have a reason to get over this stupid crush.

I’d been told relentlessly by adults when I fell pregnant that I was a kid who had made an irresponsible mistake. I still got long looks when I went out with Rowe. I wondered how bad they would get when I dropped him off at school. Would there be parents around my age, or would I be another bullseye?

It didn’t matter if I was ignored or judged. I just didn’t want Rowe to be treated differently.

The heat of Oliver’s hand settled over mine.

I let go of the mug, staring wordlessly as he turned my hand over and held it gently in his. I looked up at him, my eyes slightly glossy.

He stared back, holding my gaze. “Bet that boy is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Yeah.”

I smiled, feeling a tear slide down my cheek. His other hand came up, and he brushed it away before I could.

My breath thinned at his touch.

“Don’t take my class,” he suddenly said, the words coming out as a sharp demand.

I blinked in surprise. “What?”

He shook his head, repeating slowly, “Don’t take my class, Daisy.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to treat you like another student. Once those boundaries are in place, I can’t overstep them. I won’t be able to get this close to you again.”

He paused as he brushed a few strands of hair away from my face, his eyelids growing heavy.

“I want to be able to touch you.”

Warmth settled in the pit of my belly, ignited by his words. “You do?”

“I do.” His eyes ran over me quickly, and his chest moved faster as he said with urgency, “Come over to my place.”

My pulse quickened. “Why?”

His lips spread into a delicious smile. “Because I want to be alone with you, Daisy.”

“I mean…why me?”

I was so ordinary, and he was like a shooting star: beautiful and distant and fleeting to the human eye. He was a top-quality man, and I was…nobody.

Oliver’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you, and I’ve tried. I even tried to stop coming around that library, knowing you’d be there, huddled at some corner desk, that beautiful hair shrouding your beautiful face. I was hoping to forget about you.”

He paused.

“Then I realized you’re not a fixture in that place. You’ve become a fixture inside my head.”

I felt my being bloom at his words.