Page 27 of Fault Lines
He tensed a little. “It’s not. I want to be with you. That night—I wish you could see it isn’t a big deal. It was just… an outlet. Something fun.”
“Why aren’t I that for you?” My voice was barely audible. “Why don’t you look forward to me?”
He hesitated, choosing the words with obvious care. “I don’t know, baby. I do want you. I always have. But something’s off, and I don’t know what. I’m trying to figure it out. I just…” he trailed off, shaking his head, “wish you could, too.”
“Aren’t I trying?” My voice rose, sharper than before. “I agreed to all of this. I’m still here.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been angry—all weekend, really, since Thursday night. You’re letting it hurt you instead of giving it a chance to work. If you weren’t ready, you shouldn’t have said yes.”
I tried to keep the tears out of my voice. “What, am I supposed to cheer for you? Give play-by-play feedback? Pretend I don’t care that you’re giving yourself to someone else?”
He looked away, jaw tight. “I know it hurts. I’m sorry. But no one else has the parts that matter, Livi. My love is yours. I’m just asking for time. For patience.” He reached across the table, hand upturned and waiting.
I could have ignored it. Walked away. Gone home, packed my things, started over. I already had a job and Rachel would always take me in. That possibility hovered, bright and empty as a hotel hallway at midnight.
But I thought of the silence without him. How empty the house would be. The ache of his absence on nights he traveled and how I could never sleep alone, not really. The hollowness of imagining never touching him again.
I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through.
“I’ll try,” I promised, though the words tasted like ash on my tongue.
Chapter Nine
Thursday arrived like a slap, sharp and insistent, and this time I didn’t let myself linger in the ache of worrying about my husband and a faceless woman. I drove straight to Rachel’s. When you didn’t want to drown in your thoughts, the only answer was action, and Rachel was never content to let me wallow.
We were upstairs, knee-deep in a glittery graveyard of discarded dresses, when Rachel paused in front of the mirror, the hem of her midnight-blue dress hugging her hips in a way that made her body look almost indecently perfect.
“Do I look fat in this?” She spun, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed in mock seriousness.
“You don’t look fat in anything,” I said, because it was the truth, and because even Rachel needed to hear it sometimes.
She grinned and cocked a finger at the emerald green dress I’d found buried behind some ancient coats. “No, that’s the one. That color makes your skin look amazing.”
I stepped in front of the tall mirror, smoothing the clingy, half-soft, half-structured fabric over my hips. It was the kind of dress that looked like it should have come with instructions, but somehow, it worked. Not suffocating tight, but definitely attention-seeking. I paired it with strappy silver heels with justenough height to look dangerous, but hopefully, not enough to kill me.
Rachel caught my eye in the reflection. “See, this is what you needed. A fun night out. You’ve been ignoring me forever.”
“Have not,” I protested, but my voice sounded thin, almost hollow. “It’s just… there’s been a lot, lately.”
Even as I said it, my face started to slip. I could feel the gravity of it, pulling my mood straight down.
Her hand landed on my shoulder, heavy with understanding. “Don’t. Don’t go there, Liv. Not tonight. We’re not thinking about them.”
Them. Not even names. Just a shapeless, almost mythic other woman, doing things with my husband that I didn’t want to imagine.
“We’re going to have a freaking blast tonight!” Rachel’s arms shot into the air, her grin wild and contagious.
I let out a laugh, unexpected and grateful. “Rach, we aren’t twenty-one anymore.”
“Oh, but we’re still yoooooung,” she sang, working her hips in a circle. “And we’ve still got it, babe.”
She was still halfway twirling when her phone buzzed.
“Uber’s here.” She snapped her clutch shut. “Let’s blow this joint.”
∞∞∞
The club wasn’t far, one of those places pulsing with music and neon even on a Thursday. No line, just a bouncer with a wink and a velvet rope. Rachel gave him a flirty finger wave that was so textbook I almost snorted, but her confidence made it seem effortless.
