Page 50 of Circle of Strangers
A few days ago this would’ve bothered me.
Now I couldn’t care less.
Sozi and Mara are minnows.
But my husband? He’s about to become shark chum.
37
“What were you and Sozi talking about just now?” I ask Will a few days later, trying my hardest to sound casual as I lean against the kitchen counter, like it’s no big deal that I was just watching the two of them from inside the house.
Things between us have been bordering somewhere between lukewarm and cordial.
I’m trying to keep my cool and my distance at the same time without tipping him off. So far, I’m doing all right. He’s been busy grading papers and I’ve been busying myself with the kids and various random household projects.
Will pauses, mid-sip from his water.
Sozi’s got everyone’s ear lately—except mine. She hasn’t asked to go on a walk in several days. Nor has she texted me. Not that it matters. It’s just not like her, is all.
“Small talk,” he says, setting his glass down. “Nothing important. Never met someone who can say so much while saying so little at the same time.”
I study him. “Small talk? It looked a bit more involved than that. I saw a lot of hand gestures.”
“Sozi’s always animated,” he says. And he’s not wrong. “Doesn’t take much to get her excited.”
“Have you talked to Mara since the other day?” I ask, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. “I’m just wondering if she’s been staying away like I asked.”
Will leans back against the counter, crossing his arms loosely. “She came by earlier in the week. Asked if you were okay.”
I roll my eyes. She’s only pretending to care so she has an excuse to talk to Will. “Well, isn’t that sweet of her.”
“She said she felt horrible about making a bad impression and was worried she’d upset you.” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Nothing is ever a big deal to Will. I used to love that about him. Now it silently infuriates me. “I told her you’re just protective, that’s all. And that we’d prefer to keep to ourselves from now on.”
I want to believe he said those exact words, but his words are officially shit now.
“How’d she take it?” I ask.
“She seemed to take it just fine.” He juts his chin forward. “Said she understood. No hard feelings. Camille ...” Will’s posture straightens and his expression turns soft. He steps closer, brushing his hand over my arm. “What’s going on? Seems like you’ve got something on your mind lately. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
After everything we went through in San Diego, after laying everything bare, we promised each other there would be no more secrets—ever.
I level my shoulders and stare my husband dead in the eyes. “You’ve been keeping secrets.”
His expression stays neutral, but his complexion blanches.
“For an intelligent man,” I take a step closer, narrowing the gap between us, “you’ve done some really,reallystupid things.”
With that, I walk away, leaving his imagination to do the rest of the work—for now.
38
The latest Lucinda letter reads like a sob story. It’s almost comical at this point. I used to think her finding me would be the worst thing that could happen to my family. Now I’m beginning to think the woman isn’t capable of doing anything that would land her behind bars. She’s a psychological monster, not a physical one.
Not that it makes her any less harmful, but there is a difference.
My Gabrielle—
I know these letters are just words on a page to you, but I genuinely hope you can feel my sincerity. You’re probably wondering why you’re hearing from me now? After all this time? Or perhaps you’re wondering how I found you. If you’re feeling up to it, I’d love to tell you everything. Call me anytime—630-555-2281. Broken things can always be fixed. They might not be the same, but they can be repaired.
