Page 28 of Circle of Strangers
“I should probably get going,” she says, standing slowly, as if reluctant to leave. She turns to me with a bright, dazzling smile that almost makes me forget all the things she was spouting out moments ago. “Thanks for having me over, Camille. We should do this again sometime.”
I return the smile, though it takes a concerted amount of effort.
Mara reties her sheer wrap around her waist and waves as she heads toward the gate. “Great to see you, Will.”
As she disappears down the path along the side of our home, I let out a slow breath, the tension in my shoulders refusing to ease.
“Everything okay?” He leans down to kiss my cheek. “I thought you said no more Morenos ...”
“She invited herself over,” I tell him.
“And you didn’t say no?”
After the events of the day, I’m too mentally exhausted to think on my feet. No lies dance on the tip of my tongue, at least none that would be believable.
“She’s not so bad,” I eventually say, gathering up pool towels. “But I still think we should steer clear of them.”
I hold my breath, waiting for Will to question me, to ask for an elaboration.
He doesn’t.
18
“This is nice,” Will says from the other side of our patio dining table. “We should do this more often.”
The glow of the candlelight flickers between us, casting soft shadows across the tablespace. The hum of the night settles around us—the quiet buzz of crickets, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze, the faint sound of the pool filter running. The kids are finally asleep, leaving this sliver of time just for us.
It feels like a moment out of our previous life—before the doubts, the small cracks spreading beneath the surface. Before everything started shifting in ways I didn’t anticipate.
Will pours the last of the wine into our glasses, his easy expression illuminated by the soft flame. He looks exceptionally good tonight—put together, in a charcoal button-down with the sleeves cuffed at his elbows, his dark hair catching the light. There’s something calm and present about him tonight, as if it’s just the two of us in our own little world.
And then I notice it—the sleek silver band circling his wrist.
“That’s new,” I say, gesturing toward the watch as I take a sip of wine.
Will glances down, turning his wrist slightly to admire it. “Oh, yeah. Just got this. It’s vintage. Thought it looked classic. Looks good with my sport coats.”
“What happened to your smartwatch? Did it break?”
He leans back in his chair.
“All the notifications were distracting in class. I’d be trying to explain something, and my wrist would be buzzing nonstop. It felt like I couldn’t escape it. And when I’d turn off the settings, I’d always forget to turn them back on so it seemed pointless to even have it.” He rubs the back of his neck. “This feels better. Simple. More me.”
“More you?” I echo, turning the words over in my mind. “Lately, it feels like you’re becoming someone else.”
I didn’t mean to say that out loud.
Or did I?
Will’s good demeanor falters, just for a moment, but then his gaze turns soft and warm. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I thought you liked the way I’ve been dressing. You tell me how good I look every day.”
I twirl the stem of my wineglass between my fingers, letting the silence stretch for a beat too long.
“You do look good,” I assure him. “It’s just ... different. A lot of things feel different lately.”
“We’ve gone through a lot of changes in a short amount of time. They’re all good ones, though,” he says. “Wouldn’t you say? The kids are adjusting well. We’re safe and happy. We’ve got everything we need. Maybe you’re looking for something to worry about because for the first time in a long time, you don’t have anything to worry about?”
I sniff, taking another sip.
