Page 84 of Fault Lines
It all came down to this: Cam could still turn it around. He could come back to who he was, who we were, if I just waited a little longer.
But what if he didn’t? What if this was all there was now?
“I missed you too,” I said, eyes sliding away from his.
Had he flown home with Lacey? Probably. They lived in the same city, after all. Had they played at being a couple even after the work trip, with one last airport kiss? Did he see her all the way home, just to make sure she was safe? The way he used to do for me? I didn’t want to imagine it, but the images came anyway.
I took his suitcase, rolling it to the laundry room so he could start unpacking. Something to keep my hands busy.
“I’ll do that,” he said, reaching for the handle.
“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”
He tugged the suitcase back towards him, then wrapped his arms around me, steering us toward the stairs. “I’ll do it later. Right now, I want to make love to my wife.”
I should have argued, but when his lips grazed my neck, heat overwhelmed everything else. I gave in, floating on a tide of hormones and need. I wanted to hate him, but in that moment, I only wanted him.
He carried me the rest of the way to the bedroom, and I leaned into him, my hands slipping over his shirt buttons. My mouth lingered on his warm skin, and a heady note of perfume drifted into my nose. Floral, fruity, unfamiliar. My fingers froze.
“What’s that smell?” I asked, voice low but steady. I knew before he answered.
He acted surprised, sniffing his own shirt. “I sat next to Lacey on the plane. Her perfume is strong, I guess it got into my clothes.”
How could he lie so easily?
“Lacey was with you?” I asked, pretending not to care.
He shrugged. “She’s my assistant. It’s normal for her to come on work trips.”
I held his gaze, searching for the truth. It was plain as day on his face, even if he didn’t notice. My Cam had never lied to me before; now, guilt glistened in his eyes and he just kept talking like nothing changed.
“Nothing happened, Livi. We agreed. I haven’t touched her.”
“Haven’t you?” I said, voice flat, almost bored.
His jaw tightened. “No. I did what you asked. I’ve followed the rules for you. Why would I break them? Lacey works for me. That’s all.”
I just watched him, silent, while the lies stacked up with each breath. The urge to shout about what Rachel saw, to tell him I knew about them at the hotel, burned in my chest—but what would it do? He’d deny it, or tell me to move on, and eventually, stupidly, I would. Because I couldn’t help loving him, not even now.
“I’m taking a shower,” I said, turning away.
He followed, undressing. “I’ll join you.”
“I want to be alone,” I replied.
He bristled. “Why? So you can sit here and make up stories in your head? You’ve got to stop with the jealous streak, Livi. It’s not attractive.”
The anger burst out. “Fuck you, Cam. Who are you to talk?”
He scowled. “You agreed to this.”
“I didn’t agree to you screwing your secretary!”
His eyes narrowed, voice hard. “Stop it, Livi. Stop blaming her. If you’re mad, be mad at me.”
“Fine, then! I hate you! I hate what you’re doing, what you’ve done, what you keep doing. I hate that you won’t stop, and I hate her for being a part of it! Maybe that’s childish, maybe it’s slut-shaming, but she’s sleeping with my husband. And you know damn well you do not have my blessing.”
“I haven’t slept with her. She was there for work. And I told you to back off her. She did nothing wrong.”
