Page 100 of Fault Lines
Cam pressed on. “But you always read before bed on trips. Are you sure?”
I shrugged. “I’ll find something else. I’ll go pack.”
“We’ll stop at the shop,” he persisted, the decision already made. “It’s on the way, and honestly, I’d like to see the place you spend so much time in.”
He held me in his gaze for a moment—a challenge—and then he was gone, heading upstairs. As soon as his footsteps faded, anxiety tumbled out of me in a desperate whisper. I patted my pockets for my phone, only to realize it was still upstairs. I had to warn Nate. Fast.
Upstairs, Cam ducked into the shower. “Join me?” he called.
“No, I’m still good from last night—I’ll start packing instead.”
As soon as the bathroom door shut, I lunged for my phone, fingers flying over the screen. Nate picked up after three rings, his voice as calm as always.
“Hey Livi, what’s up?”
“I’ve got a problem.” I didn’t have the patience for pleasantries.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
I ignored the new endearment and gave him the highlights about last night’s fight.
“So now,” I concluded, “he wants to take me out for the weekend. Not only can I not come in to work, but he’s insisting on following me to the store to pick up this book I don’t even want!”
I paused, breathless. There was a beat of silence, and then Nate actually laughed.
I bristled. “What could possibly be funny about this?”
“No need to panic,” he said, gentle amusement in his voice. “I can cover for you. And you can stop in and buy a book—it’s really fine.”
“But Cam already suspects you,” I insisted. “I can’t have you two in the same room. He’ll know.”
Nate was unruffled. “He’ll know what?”
“That we’re sleeping together!” I hissed into the phone.
“Livi, you’re overthinking. He’s not going to magically put it together just by seeing me. Unless you give something away—which you won’t. You’ll just act normal. Like any other customer.”
“You don’t get how jealous he can be. Or how physical.”
Nate’s tone sharpened, a little edge to it now. “Livi, your husband doesn’t scare me. And need I remind you that you’re in an open marriage? That was his idea. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on.”
“I know that. But it doesn’t matter. He is jealous anyway.”
“So what’s your plan, just keep lying to him? Let him think you’re innocent while you’re not? Is that what you want, to live a lie just to keep him comfortable? Or are you hoping that if he ever wants to stop all this, he’ll still believe you were faithful, that you never touched another man?”
It was a harsh truth. But he was right. Cam had pushed for this, and if he was man enough to want it, he would have to face what it meant. My silence was my own answer.
“You’re right,” I said eventually, exhaustion seeping in. “I shouldn’t have to hide this. But I can’t deal with it right now, okay? Just… if you see us, pretend it’s nothing. Just for a while. Please, Nate.”
He hesitated, then relented. “If that’s what you want.”
“Thank you.” I barely got the words out before Cam strode from the bathroom, damp and wrapped in a towel, all sharp edges and heat. I hung up, tossing the phone on the bed.
Cam fixed me with one of his speculative looks. “Who was that?”
“Rachel,” I blurted, instantly convicted by the lie.
He raised a brow, unconvinced. “Bit early for Rachel, isn’t it?”
