Page 65 of Circle of Strangers
The air outside is cool and heavy, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming jasmine from the Morenos’ yard. Will and I step out onto the patio, each holding a drink. Bourbon on the rocks for him, double vodka for me.
I’m sticking to my script of playing dumb and so far, it seems to be working. For all intents and purposes, Will thinks I’m tired, half asleep, unaware that anything’s amiss other than the state of our marriage, and simply annoyed that he’s making us talk at this ungodly hour.
I settle into one of the wrought-iron chairs, cradling my glass, but Will remains upright, swirling his drink in his hand as if the motion will calm him.
It doesn’t.
He’s a live wire—tense, pacing back and forth under the eerie light of a full moon.
“We have a serious problem,” he finally speaks. “And we have to fix it.Together.”
I can think of a whole slew of serious problems we’re facing at the moment.
Coolly, I take a slow sip of my drink, keeping my face carefully neutral. “Can you be more specific?”
Will stops pacing, turning to look at me. His eyes glint in the soft moonlight, filled with something intense yet desperate at the same time.
“There’s nothing you can say or do that’ll change how I feel about you. You know that, right?Nothing.” He takes a step closer. “I’ve beenobsessed with you since the moment I saw you in that pub in Chicago—O’Horan’s, the one just outside the hospital. Do you remember?”
I nod, though my throat tightens at the memory of the night we first met.
“You were so classy,” he continues, his voice soft and nostalgic. “Enigmatic. Poised. And you had this look in your eyes, like you knew more than you were letting on. That you had depth. That you could challenge me in ways I needed to be challenged. I knew right then—I had to have you. There was a moment that night, when you looked over at me, and I melted. All I kept thinking was ... how can I have this for the rest of my life?”
Will has never shared this with me. Now I can’t help but wonder why.
He paces more, stopping once to take a generous swig of bourbon. “When we started dating, you wereperfect, like you were made just for me.”
I stare into my glass.
“That was intentional,” I say, voice flat. “That’s what I do, Will. I manipulated you into thinking I was perfect for you. And it worked.”
“Regardless, youchoseme.” His eyes are wild in a frightening way. “Youwantedme. You wanted this life, this family. And I wanted you, so I gave it all to you. This beautiful life. I gave youeverythingyou wanted.”
“You did.”
“So why,” he whispers, the words raw with frustration, “are you throwing it all away? Like it’s nothing? Like it never mattered at all?”
I look up at him, meeting his gaze head-on. “I should be asking you that question.”
Will’s jaw tightens, and his hand trembles slightly as he raises the glass to his lips. He takes a long drink, then exhales through his nostrils. “I know about you and Oscar.”
I freeze. “What?”
“I found the True Spark app on your phone several weeks ago, Camille. I went through the messages. You and Oscar had been talking, you even met up at some coffee shop. I followed you there. I saw the two of you go inside. Then you deleted the app after that. You buriedthe evidence. You took it offline.” His words come out faster with each sentence, like the man’s unraveling in real time. “I thought I was doing everything right to make you happy. ButOscar? Of all people?”
The ground beneath me shifts, though my whole world might as well be tilting off its axis.
“It’s not what you think,” I say. “Not at all.”
Will chuffs. “I want to believe you. God, I want to. But you said so yourself—you manipulate people. It’s what you do. I can’t believe anything you say. You know that. All I know is what I saw.”
He drops into one of the patio chairs, crumpling like a man who’s carried too much for too long.
Deafening quietude branches between us, thick and stifling in spite of the dry air that surrounds us, filled with everything we aren’t saying—like the dead body that was lying in our garage earlier tonight.
Will scrubs his hands over his face, exhausted.
“You can’t leave me, Camille. Not after everything we’ve built together. Not after everything we’ve been through. You can’t do that to the kids. To me.” His voice cracks at the edges. “I can’t lose you. I don’t know who I am without ... us.”
