Page 120 of Fault Lines
But that was ancient history. The only time I’d called Cam in weeks was to tell him I was making an appointment with a divorce lawyer. He’d answered the phone in a waiting room, a woman’s voice in the background—a nurse or a doctor, then Lacey herself. That stung. I’d listened as he scrambled to explain, trying to insist he was only there for the ultrasound as moral support. As if that changed anything. Hearing it out loud, in real time, had been a shock, as if someone had reached into my chest and twisted.
After that, I hung up. I hadn’t answered any calls or texts from him since. I hadn’t even scheduled the appointment—I wasn’t ready to face it, not yet. As long as I delayed, it was like the reality couldn’t quite catch me. But I knew, deep down, there was no turning back. Lacey’s pregnancy had to be far along by now, and I’d rather have the divorce over and done with before that baby arrived. That probably wouldn’t happen, though. It should be straightforward. I didn’t want anything but my own stuff and the little money I’d earned; everything else could go to Cam.
Nate knew I was dragging my feet. Cam’s messages still lit up my phone, and it drove Nate up the wall. Every time, he’dglare at my screen, jaw tightening. Twice, I’d had to pull the phone from Nate’s hands so he wouldn’t answer for me. He’d also snooped through my messages twice, which I hated. But I tried to see it from his side. He was trying to build something with me, and instead of a fresh start, he had Cam’s shadow on every text alert.
I poured two mugs as the coffee finished gurgling, fixed them up like usual (splash of cream for Nate, sugar and cream for me), and set the mugs on the counter. Nate appeared a second later, bare-chested and wearing nothing but sweats, his skin still cool and damp. My eyes trailed down him, a hot little shiver running through me. If I didn’t have to work, I might have dragged him straight back to bed.
“Thanks,” he said, grabbing his mug and taking a long sip. “You going to make that appointment today?”
The question clipped my daydream. The desire fizzled out, replaced with irritation. He’d been on me about the divorce every single day for weeks. And, all right, I understood why, but the more he pushed, the more stubborn I became. I wanted to do it. I knew I had to. But something about Nate’s impatience triggered my own heels-dug-in instincts.
I heaved a sigh and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll call them on my lunch break.”
His face broke out in a smile, bright and proud. Without thinking, I smiled back.
“That’s great, baby. The sooner you get this done, the sooner we move forward.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Move forward? We’re already living together ninety percent of the time. There’s no rush, Nate. We have all the time in the world.”
He set his mug down, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. “But I want you to be completely mine,” he said, his voice alittle hard-edged. “I want us to be real, without the marriage still hanging over our heads.”
I didn’t flinch from him. I just leaned back against the counter, the steam from my mug fogging the air between us. “I am yours, Nate. The marriage—it’s like you said, it’s just technical. Only on paper. It doesn’t mean anything. I wouldn’t betray you. Not even for Cam.”
He stared at me for a long second. Then, suddenly: “If Cam called today and said he was walking away from it all—that he wasn’t going to raise the baby, or see her, or anything. Would you go back to him?”
I didn’t hesitate. “No, Nate. There’s too much between us that’s broken. And I couldn’t be with someone who’d just walk away from his own kid. That isn’t in me.”
His jaw worked. “Do you still love him?”
That question made me pause. My gaze flickered from his eyes down to my coffee. I didn’t want to say it, but it was true.
“That’s a yes,” he bit off.
I didn’t try to deny it. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you. It’s just—we have history. We spent years together. I can’t turn it off like a switch.”
“Even after the way he’s treated you?”
“Even after.” The words came out small.
“Do you love me?”
This time, I met his eyes. He was deadly serious, almost brittle. The word “love” hadn’t come up between us before, but it hung there now, pulsing in the space between us.
Did I love Nate? I cared about him; that was obvious. I wanted him. He made me laugh, made me feel wanted in ways I’d never imagined. I pictured a future with him, the two of us growing old, sipping tea on some porch while the world went by. He was safe, and sweet, and generous. I wanted to be with him.
But, if I was honest, touching him didn’t light me up the way Cam used to. When he kissed me, I wanted it—but it didn’t leave me dizzy and breathless, swept up in sparks, the way it did with Cam. My feelings for Nate didn’t burn; they simmered, steady and gentle. If I compared it, it was more like the love I had for Rachel, but with more complications and a dose of lust.
I took Nate’s hand, tangling my fingers through his, and squeezed. “I care about you, Nate. I want to be yours. I am yours. Nothing’s going to change that.”
“But you don’t love me.”
I swallowed. “I do love you. Just… not the way I still love him. But that will change. I just need time, Nate. I need to heal. You’re helping, every single day. Don’t give up on me.”
His grip tightened around my hand, and his smile was small but real. “You’re it for me, Livi. I’ll wait forever if I have to.”
I leaned in and kissed him before heading off to get ready for work. Just a gentle brush of lips, nothing too heated, but it lingered with me as I pulled on my clothes and combed through my hair.
∞∞∞
