Page 208 of Damsel in Disguise

“…which means the structural failure would’ve occurred years earlier,” I finish.

He doesn’t answer immediately. I find his eyes are fixed somewhere beyond the office wall.

“Professor?”

His attention returns at once. “My apologies. Continue.”

I frown but resume explaining.

A little later, he asks me to repeat a conclusion I know he heard the first time.

Another time, I look up to find him watching me instead of the pages spread across the desk.

The longer we work, the more obvious it becomes.

His mind keeps wandering somewhere I cannot follow.

Eventually, I put my pen down. “You’re acting strange.”

Without looking up, he says, “You’ve pointed it out before.”

I shake my head slowly. “No. This time, I mean it.”

He leans back in his seat. “I’m merely tired.”

“You don’t get tired.”

He lets out a dry chuckle. “That’s an unrealistic expectation.”

“You don’t lose focus either.”

His expression remains carefully neutral.

I cross my arms over the desk and look at him, really look at him for reasons I can’t quite explain—I’m worried about him.

“You’ve looked at that clock for at least a hundred times.”

“I was unaware you were counting.”

Despite myself, I almost smile. Then I realize he’s not smiling back.

“I know this is a professional place, but if it’s about last night…” my voice grows quieter despite myself. “If you regret what happened, or if you think I crossed a line, then I’m really sorry.”

His eyes lift to mine.

While I’m drowning in those blue orbs, I thought he’s going to say something. Tell me something. Confess anything. I almost thought he’s going to reassure me.

Just then, his entire expression changes as though carrying the truth has finally become heavier than carrying the lie.

The moment passes away as quickly as it came. The walls return the second he blinks.

“There’s nothing to concern yourself with, Miss Keinston.”

My lips part slightly.

A part of me tells me to let it go. To accept whatever happened between us was nothing more than a lapse in judgment, an unexpected collision between two people who should’ve known better.

Men like Alistair Hertley don’t rearrange their lives because of a single night. They acknowledge the mistake, file it away with the rest of their carefully ordered existence, and move on as though it never happened.