Page 19 of Fault Lines
“And she let me tag along, since the show was sold out,” Nate added.
Mr. Porter lit up. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say fate was up to something.” He tapped his head for emphasis, making Nate roll his eyes.
Embarrassed, Nate muttered, “Pops, stop.”
Mr. Porter pushed the cup of coffee toward me. “Just let me know by next week. If you want the job, it’s yours. Take the load off Nate’s shoulders—and my old bones, too.”
I nodded, still dazed. “I’ll think about it. There’s a lot going on, but… maybe I could make it work.” I nudged the coffee back. “I didn’t pay for this.”
“Sure you did,” he winked.
“Thank you. See you soon, maybe?” I gave Nate a look.
He smiled. “I look forward to it.”
I left quickly, clutching the heavy book, heart fluttering for a completely different reason.
∞∞∞
That night, I paced the living room like a ghost. All I could do was walk circles, shoes wearing a groove in the rug.
It was 5:45. Cam wasn’t home. He’d warned me he’d be late—but I’d hoped against hope he’d show up early, call it all off, realize we couldn’t bounce back from this. Or at least that his plans had fallen through, that the universe had intervened, that he’d ended up coming straight home to me instead.
Minutes bled into hours. With every tick of the clock, my hope shriveled.
I grabbed my phone, set it down, picked it back up—a dance I didn’t even realize I was doing. I wanted to call him, to beg him not to do this, not to break us. I could picture him with her: would they go out to dinner first, laugh over drinks, fall into bed? Would he touch her the way he used to touch me? Would he forget all about me for a night or just try to?
I couldn’t stand it. I called Rachel. She answered right away.
“What’s up, girlie?”
“I can’t do this, Rach. I can’t just sit here knowing he’s out wrecking our marriage.”
“Slow down, Livi. I hate to say it, but you did agree to it.”
“That’s not fair—I only agreed because I didn’t want to lose him.”
“But you did decide. Two bad choices, but you picked. And this is the follow-through, babe.”
I breathed out, heavy.
“You want to go out? I have plans, but I’ll cancel for you. If you’re in a crisis, I’m here.”
I shook my head. “Don’t do that. I’ll get through tonight.”
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She hesitated. “Whatever you do, just don’t call him. That would make everything ten times worse, okay?”
I groaned. “Okay. I’ll read, or run, or find something to do to not think about what he’s doing.”
“Don’t let your wild imagination run away with you. It’s probably not even as bad as what you’re picturing.”
“Ha. I’ll try.”
“I’m here, Livi. Just say the word and I’ll come running.”
