His back stiffens and he pauses a few feet up the stairs. “I don’t know what you mean, Lei.” He turns around, and his eyes find mine. “What are you saying?”
I shrug. “I know you have that fantasy…”
“Leleila.” He sighs and comes over to the couch and sits down. “I told you pretending wouldn’t be the same as the real thing. It’s fine. It really is.”
I narrow my eyes. “It’s just…I know you told me that sex with an academic is on your bucket list, and now that I failed my thesis, it makes me wonder if you’re…”
“If I’m what?” His tired eyes flash with panic that he tries to cover. “Finish your sentence, Lei.”
I keep my gaze on his. “It makes me wonder, if I don’t actually become a professor, you’ll feel like you’re settling.”
There. I’ve said it.
“You’re going to pass that dissertation and get hired at the university,” he says firmly as he takes my hand in his. “I know you are. And in the meanwhile…I was waiting to tell you this, but…”
“But what?” I say, a sense of doom filling my chest.
“You can work for me.” He beams. “As my assistant at the college. You can start as soon as we’re married.”
I tighten my fingers around his subconsciously. “I’ll be your assistant?”
He furrows his brow in that way he gets when he’s truly confused. “Don’t you want to get back to work?”
“Yes. I do.” I pull my hand away and sigh. “But not as your assistant. Honey, I think we both know that won’t end well.”
His mouth turns down into nearly a scowl. “I don’t know how to get you to realize that I don’t need you to be a professor to make me happy. I just want you to be by my side.”
I fiddle with the string on my ring finger. It’s getting awfully frayed, and I’m not sure it’s going to make it to the wedding after all. “Phillip, sometimes I wonder if this—us—isn’t working as well as it used to. I feel like we’re growing apart, and I even wonder if maybe you have a specific woman in mind for your professor fantasy, and maybe you have for a while.”
Phillip rubs his temple. “Lei. Don’t. There is no specific woman.”
I fiddle some more with the string. Now I’m pulling so tightly that my finger is turning white from lack of blood flow. “I’ve suggested we try professor role-play in bed. Why won’t you consider it?”
“Because. You’re not…” He trails off.
“I’m not a hot professor who you can have illicit sex with in your office or at a conference. Right?” My voice sounds surprisingly calm to my own ears, considering my insides are shaking. I take off my glasses and keep talking. “You were waiting—hoping—for the day when I’d pass my dissertation and maybe then, even though we both know you don’t consider psychology to be on the same level as biology and ecology—you thought maybe then we could do all those dirty things you dream about.”
Phillip pats my knee. “You’re the woman I want to marry. That’s why you have the ring around your finger, Lei.” He points to the string I’m busy tugging at. “It’s not about getting a degree. You’re stressed out, honey,” he says, and I don’t miss how he, as usual, manages to turn the focus onto me like I’m the problem. “This wedding isn’t supposed to be a source of anxiety. That’s why we’re making it as low-key as possible. Until our wedding, will you promise to have as much fun as possible? Go out, have a few drinks, and hang out with some friends. Okay?”
My response comes out in a pained, yet clear, tone. “Sure.”
Chapter Eighteen
The following evening, I sit by myself on our couch and look up at Phillip and Matt Lucas schmoozing together by the fireplace. Two glasses of sherry in and Phillip’s eyes have that glassy look they get when I know he’s going to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow. I look down at my ring finger, and I’m still looking at it when Elsa Lucas takes a seat next to me, uninvited. I turn to smile at her, wondering what Matt’s perfect scholarly wife is doing sitting next to little old me, but I don’t have to wait long to find out.
“Leleila,” she begins. “Don’t you look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you,” I say stiffly, knowing that line has to be just her lead-in to something more sinister.
Her badly-colored hair doesn’t hide the fact that she’s twenty years older than me, and I know she’s had to attend these parties for far longer than I can imagine doing myself, so I try to cut her some slack.
“You know,” she says. “Now that your marital status is about to change, Phillip’s going to need you more than ever in order to stay on track.”
When I don’t answer her, she keeps going. “I teach a class at my home that’s vital for someone like you,” she says. “Someone who’s a bit resistant to accepting all the pressures that come with becoming a professor’s wife. This department is the most prestigious one at the university. Your fiancé will need a lot of support the further along his career he gets.”
I clench my jaw and make a non-verbal sound that she must take as consent because she smiles at me.
“I host a quarterly dinner party,” she says. “Hors d’oeuvres, organic wine, and a full-course meal, of course. I bake my desserts, but you could always do store-bought as long as it’s decent.”
