Page 46 of Fault Lines
“No! It’s not like that. Not even close.” He gripped the steering wheel tight, knuckles white.
“I thought this was supposed to be once a week, physical, no strings. But now it’s bleeding into the rest of our lives. She’s texting you when you’re with me, and you’re answering her. If you were with her, you wouldn’t answer a photo from me.” I tried to keep my voice steady, but it cracked.
His jaw flexed. “It’s not like that, Livi. She means nothing, she’s just… it’s just sex.”
The bluntness of it hit me like a slap.
“It’s hard enough,” I whispered, “sharing you at all. But now it’s everywhere, and I can’t do it.”
He stopped at a red light, finally turning to look at me.
“You don’t have to share my heart. That’s always yours. Always. Do you want me to stop seeing her?”
I nodded. “Yes! Please. I just want to feel like I matter more than this.”
He shook his head as the light changed and the car rolled forward.
“I’ll stop seeing her, but I’m not ready to quit completely. Not yet. I wish I was, but I’m not.”
“When will you be?” I asked, voice so quiet I doubted he heard me.
He just stared out the windshield. “I don’t know,” he said finally.
I didn’t answer him.
I just hoped he’d find the answer before we ran out of time.
Chapter Fifteen
“Come to my place tonight,” Nate said, his voice easy and matter-of-fact.
I nearly lost my grip on the box I was carrying, almost letting it tumble and scatter its contents across the aisle. “What?” I asked, the surprise wobbling in my tone.
“I want to cook for you,” he repeated, not missing a beat.
He watched me. Waiting. I couldn’t help the skeptical eyebrow I raised in response. “You want to cook for me?”
He laughed, not bothered at all, and took the box from me. He reached for his pocketknife and sliced the tape, opening it up in one quick motion.
“Jackson got a deal on some duck,” Nate said, pulling out a couple of brand-new hardbacks and handing them to me so I could start stacking the display shelves. “Picked some up for me, too, since he knows I like to cook. There’s this recipe I’ve been dying to try, but I want a second opinion. Plus, it’s Thursday night, and you shouldn’t have to sit at home alone.”
He lined the books up on the display, neat and orderly, his words drifting along like he’d been thinking about this for a while. “Unless you already have plans,” he added after a beat. “But I know Rachel is going out with Jackson tonight, so I thought…”
He didn’t finish. Just gave me a look, both hopeful and a little awkward.
“Yeah, why not,” I finally said. “As friends, of course.”
“Of course,” he replied, and the smile he gave me was all boyish charm and dimpled cheek.
I had to smile back at him, just for that. There was something infectious about the way his whole face lit up, the dimple carving itself deep in his skin. Then my phone went off with a little ping and I dug it out of my jeans, thumb swiping the screen even though I already knew who it would be. Cam.
I can’t make our lunch date, babe. I’m sorry. A last-minute client meeting came up.
I sighed as I read the words. He’d been canceling a lot, lately. Ever since the trip to the aquarium, Cam just felt… distant. Quieter. Standoffish in a way he never used to be, like each text took more effort than the one before. He was staying at work late almost every night now. I’d been turning over what happened that day in my mind, wondering if I’d managed to screw things up for good, if I’d just pushed too hard this time.
Okay, I understand. I’ll miss you.
Shockingly, he texted back so fast the phone vibrated in my hand before I’d even put it away.
