Page 15 of Fault Lines
I nearly laughed. “If he’s going to have sex with these women, you really think there won’t be any kissing?”
She wagged her finger at me. “If Julia Roberts can have a no kissing rule inPretty Woman, then so can you.”
The image flashed across my mind: Cam’s mouth pressed to another woman’s. The pain was immediate, cold and sharp as a paper cut.
“Okay then,” I said, voice thin. “No kissing.”
Rachel jotted it down. “What else?”
“One night a week, max,” I said after thinking. “If this is about putting our marriage first, then most nights should be for us.”
Rachel nodded. “That’s good. One night a week for him, the rest for you.”
“Protection. Always.” I said.
“Absolutely,” Rachel chimed in, scribbling the rule. “And periodic STD screens. No chances.”
It was surreal, making rules about how my husband would sleep around. I let the next one come out in a rush: “No one we both know. I couldn’t face anyone knowing she’d been with Cam.”
Rachel nodded, pen tapping against her lips. “No repeat flings, either? I mean, no emotional attachments.”
I snorted. “Definitely. And no Lacey. If he so much as tries it with her, I’m done. She already thinks she has something special with him. That’d be unbearable.”
“Alright, that’s seven rules already. Anything else?”
I shook my head, feeling exhausted. “Can’t believe I’m even discussing this.”
Rachel offered a gentle smile. “You know you could always stay at my place if you need out. Seriously, you’d be welcome for as long as it takes.”
I nearly teared up. “I’d be lost without you, Rach.”
She just grinned across her glass. “And if you ever decide to try the open part yourself, I’ll help you out. We could even double-date. But—not together, obviously.”
I managed the beginnings of a laugh. As far as comfort went, Rachel was the next best thing to a blanket and warm tea.
∞∞∞
Cam was home precisely at 5:30, as if he’d been waiting his whole life for this one night.
He joined me at the table, barely sparing a glance for the food I’d worked over.
“Smells amazing, baby,” he said, “and it looks even better.”
“Thanks.” My voice was careful, distant.
He got straight to the point: “Did you have time to think it over? Rachel stopped by?”
“She did. And she thinks I should just leave you.”
His color faded a shade, and for half a moment, he looked scared. “And what do you think?”
“I can’t live without you, and you know it. That’s why you thought you could ask.”
He drank his water, eyes shining. Then he reached for my hand. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I don’t know what else to do.”
“What about counseling?” I asked softly, desperate for something, anything, to steer us off this road. “Will you try that, for me?”
He made a face. “Talk to some stranger about the worst parts of myself? Pass.”
