Page 24 of Circle of Strangers
I remind myself that Will has always been there for me, always steady and true. But the scent of his cologne still lingers in the kitchen air, faint but persistent, like a whisper I can’t ignore.
15
I park in the front row at Kettlestone Café five minutes before nine, my hair tucked into a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses covering my face. It takes all of three seconds for me to determine this disguise—if I can call it that—is ridiculous.
The windows of the café are tinted, making it impossible to see through them. I cruised through the parking lot before I got here to check for Oscar’s Tesla, but apparently everyone in the greater Phoenix area who owns a Tesla decided to come here at the same time today.
Exhaling, I flip my visor, kill the engine, and head inside to grab a coffee.
The line is long—reaching the door. And the sickeningly sweet smell of pastries and burnt coffee floods my lungs. If Oscar wanted to impress his online date, he could’ve at least chosen a nicer place.
I move to the end of the line, counting at least twelve people ahead of me. This isn’t going to be a quick in-and-out.
Scanning the room, there’s no trace of Oscar anywhere. As desperate as he was to make this happen, I can’t imagine he’d ghost me.
Dragging in a lungful of coffee-shop air, I pull out my phone and check the app. No new messages other than the one he sent last night telling me how excited he was to finally meet me.
The bells on the door chime behind me, and I darken the screen before anyone has a chance to see me checking a godforsaken dating app—except apparently I’m not fast enough.
“Camille?” A familiar gruff voice fills my ear.
I turn on my heels and I’m immediately met with Oscar’s dark, cutting features.
The expression on his face is nothing short of unsettling. “Are youfuckingserious?”
My stomach falls.
He saw.
16
“So. How was coffee?” Sozi asks with a sly grin on Monday, nudging me with her elbow. The crisp morning air clings to my skin as we power walk through the neighborhood, our sneakers tapping in sync along the quiet, manicured streets.
“I ended up not going,” I lie.
It turns out Sozi and Mara weren’t being dramatic when they said Oscar was troubled. After he saw my screen, I played dumb. I gaslit as best I could. But the man’s eyes turned a deeper shade of dark. A storm was brewing inside him. All I could think about was the fact that he lives next to me and my family, that I’d never be able to explain this to Will in a way he’d understand, that moving the kids (yet again) would be awful for them now that they’re settling in so well.
So I folded.
We sat down at a table in the corner and I apologized—even though I didn’t mean it.
I swore my secrecy, played it off like I was some dumb, bored housewife.
I let him watch as I deleted each and every screenshot of our conversation, then deleted my dating profile and the app altogether.
I placated him as best as I could, faux tears and all. I promised him nothing would come of this, though nothing seemed satisfactory enough. His shoulders remained tense and the murderous look in his eyes remained.
I’d seen that look before, a lifetime ago, on my mother’s face.
“If a word of this gets out, you understand it’s not going to end well for you,” he said under his breath, his car keys still clenched tight in his fist. He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to and besides, I didn’t want him to. My imagination fills in these kinds of blanks just fine on its own.
It killed me to cower to that pathetic man, but my hands were tied.
Keeping my family together is worth more to me than the satisfaction of being right.
“I actually ended up canceling on him,” I add. “Then I deleted the app completely. Honestly I want nothing to do with the Morenos anymore.”
“You going to relay that to your husband? I saw him chatting with Mara last night,” she says, her voice light but pointed.
