Page 99 of Fault Lines
I could not comprehend his behavior last night. How dare he act as though I owed him some ancient loyalty to his ego, especially after all the things he was doing? He’d never forbidden me to seek out my own happiness in this arrangement. He couldn’t. That was the whole point—we were supposed to be open. And it had not even been my idea.
I was still working over all the shapes of that injustice when I heard, distantly, the front door shutting. Cam’s footsteps sounded down the hall, then into the kitchen. I kept my gaze on my latte, pretending I didn’t notice him at all.
He slid into a chair at the bar, voice soft. “Will you make me a cup? I never get them to taste right.”
I said nothing, but reached for the bag of beans he liked and started loading the machine.
“Still mad at me, huh?” he tried, just a thread of hopefulness in his tone.
I ignored him, busying myself with cups and the slow time of the coffee brewing.
He gave an abashed little sigh. “I know I acted like a jerk last night. I realize you weren’t on a date. I know you’d never do that—I was being stupid.”
I looked over at him, raising one brow. I could tell him the truth, set him straight, or I could just let him think that. Would it matter? It would all come out the same in the end. At least this way, I didn’t have to put in the emotional labor.
I slid his coffee across the bar to him, the mug clattering softly against the countertop.
“And how are you going to make it up to me?” I asked.
He paused. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to do?”
“I’d like you to give me some answers.”
He inhaled sharply, exasperated. “God, Livi, can’t you just let things go?”
I shook my head. “Not this. I don’t understand why you’re keeping it from me. What could possibly be so bad? Are you afraid I’ll leave you if I know?”
For a moment I let myself spiral through the possibilities. Maybe her boyfriend or husband or whatever was blackmailing him and we were slowly spiraling into debt and he was too ashamed to talk about it. What else could frighten him so badly?
“It’s not bad,” he finally said, and I was caught off guard by that.
“What?” I took a sip of my coffee, trying to process this shift. “So it wasn’t bad, but you still missed our anniversary for it?”
He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I’m just explaining this all wrong. At first, I thought it was bad, but then I started seeing other possibilities. I just—I want to work out the details first. This might actually turn out really good for us, Livi. Will you trust me? Please, baby? Just trust that I’m working on something big, for us.”
But how did you trust a man who’d been lying to you? How did you move on from this, really? I could already feel the shadow of doubt, heavy and persistent, threatening everything we had ever built together. I wasn’t sure what was left of us—or even who I was, anymore.
Cam stirred first, breaking the silence. “I’m taking the day off.”
I blinked at him. “What? Why?”
He looked at me, determined. “Because I want to spend time with you. I want to make up for last night. Let’s get out of the city, just the two of us—a little B&B, restaurants, those museums you like. We’ll spend the rest of the time wrapped up in bed together.”
The longing in his words surprised me. I had missed being close to him; I’d missed us, the way we used to be before all the fractures began to show. Maybe, for a weekend, I could pretend we were still that couple. Maybe that would be enough.
“You want to go right now?” I asked, testing him.
He nodded. “Why not? Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?”
My mind raced. I’d have to call off work, and I didn’t want to tell Cam I had a job, but I wasn’t sure how to get around this. Maybe Nate could cover for me. He usually did.
I tried to sound casual. “No, I just wanted to stop by the bookstore. There’s a new release I was looking forward to.”
Cam’s eyes narrowed, searching my face. “That’s not a problem. We’ll swing by on the way out so you can pick it up.”
Panic hit, a rolling wave in my gut. No way could Cam and Nate cross paths. No way.
“That’s okay,” I said quickly. “I’ll just get it next week. It’s not urgent.”
