Page 92 of Fault Lines
The answer whirled together in a rush: pacing the living room, Cam ignoring my calls, a bottle of pinot draining as my worries multiplied. My tongue felt thick; my mouth was sandpaper. I tried to sit up and nearly collapsed back in bed when a spike of pain shot straight through my head.
One thing was immediately obvious: Cam was gone. I scanned the bed. Pillows and sheets, empty on his side. The sunlight was already too bright for my usual wake-up time. Oh god, was I late? I patted around for my phone, heart skipping a beat, and when I finally found it there were two missed calls and two texts from Nate.
I just opened up shop. You’re not here. Obviously. Call me.
Okay, so you’re an hour late now and not answering my calls. Just let me know you’re okay when you get this. Pops isn’t here yet but I’ll cover for you.
I hurried out a response, thumbs clumsy.
Sorry! I just woke up. I must have fallen asleep on the couch last night and forgot to set my alarm. I’ll be there asap!
His reply dinged in not two seconds.
No problem! Glad everything’s okay. Don’t rush, I’ve got things under control. See you soon.
I forced myself into the bathroom, brushing sour morning breath from my teeth as I tried to piece together where Cam had gone. He hadn’t woken me before leaving. That was weird, even with how things were lately. Maybe he’d wanted to avoid my questions. I’d spent half the night fretting. And as far as Cam knew, I was still just the dutiful wife who barely rolled out of bed in time to make coffee. He didn’t have a clue about the bookshop—that I worked there.
I trudged to the kitchen, already desperate for caffeine, the ache behind my eyes turning into a drumbeat. I pulled soy milk and espresso from the fridge, robotically prepping my latte. I needed to call Cam, needed to hear his explanation—even if he thought I’d just let it slide.
I hit his name in my contacts and pressed the phone to my ear. The first ring had barely finished when I heard it: another ring, echoing from the living room.
Hesitating, I followed the sound to the doorway. Cam sat in the recliner, staring right at me. He looked… bad. Eyes bloodshot, pale, exhaustion cut across his face in harsh lines. Had I really missed him on the way through? I guess, with the hangover and the haze and all.
“I didn’t know you were still here,” I said. “I thought you went to work.”
Cam just let out a tired sigh, rubbing at his face with both hands. In the bright morning light, he looked like he hadn’t slept a minute.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, worry fizzing in my gut as I came toward him.
He looked at me. Said nothing.
“Cam?” I nudged, voice way softer now.
He slumped forward, elbows on knees. “I didn’t sleep last night. I’m taking a day off. I need to think.”
“What happened last night?” I asked, moving to sit on the couch across from him. “Did something go down at work?”
He raised his eyes, slow and sad, and shook his head.
“I’m really sorry about not showing up last night. I had to deal with some stuff.”
“Some stuff…” I repeated back, waiting. “Not work?”
Cam leaned back, jaw tight, and looked me over like he was weighing me. “I’m tapped out, Livi. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Later, okay?”
“Later?” My voice climbed a notch. “You were the one who wanted our anniversary dinner. You made me reserve a table and then just… didn’t show up. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”
“Of course you do. But I just can’t right now. I don’t have the words.”
My stomach twisted. “What could possibly be so bad that you can’t just tell me?”
Silence. My fear crept in from the corners.
Was he with her? My mouth almost formed her name: Lacey. But I couldn’t say it, not yet. I bit the words back, voice brittle. “Were you with her?”
He didn’t bother to deny it. “What does it matter? I was dealing with something important. That’s all you need to know for now. I know I’m a shit for missing our date, especially on such a special night, but it was really important and I’ll make it up to you.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, anger and bile burning up through my chest. “It was more important than your wife?”
