Page 51 of Fault Lines
I pressed a palm to my forehead, embarrassed. “Honestly, it totally slipped my mind. I’ve lost all track of time lately.”
He laughed. “Well, what do you think? We’ll go up Friday night, spend the weekend. Jet skis in the daytime, and at night, fireside snuggles and lots of sex. Just the two of us. Like last time.”
The cabin was two hours away, tucked deep in the woods. Cam’s dad had let us use it for our honeymoon, back before Cam’s work had really taken off. The place was huge and beautiful, a lake within walking distance. I’d always loved it there.
“It sounds amazing,” I said, and as I said it, I realized I meant it. It had been too long since Cam and I had taken time just for us.
“Great. It’s settled.”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling. “Looking forward to it.”
∞∞∞
“You need something sexy for this trip,” Rachel declared, running her hands over a rack of lingerie.
“We’re here for you, not me,” I protested.
She tossed a lacy red thong at my head. “No reason we can’t shop for both. And for your birthday, I’m buying.”
I glared at her, joking. “You’re giving me underwear for my birthday? What kind of message is that?”
Rachel just grinned. “Trust me. It’s actually easier than shopping for you. And it’s not like you don’t need it.”
“I really don’t. And it’s not like Cam cares. He saves the risqué stuff for other women. I’m just the regular wife, remember?”
Rachel sifted through another rack. “How often are you guys even sleeping together?”
I glanced around, mortified. “Can you not say that so loud?”
She gave me an exasperated look. “Livi, we’re in a lingerie shop. No one cares.”
“Fine. A few times a week.”
“And how many times does he see his ‘side pieces’?”
“Once a week, Thursdays.”
She gave me a look like that was all the evidence she needed. “Exactly. You’re still number one. He wants you more than any of them. He’d probably love to see you in something new.”
I was tempted to tell her the truth: Cam would pick the other women more often, if it weren’t against the rules. But arguing seemed pointless, so I flipped through the hangers until something caught my eye.
A red two-piece, tied with a bow between the breasts, with open patches beneath each cup. The bottoms were lacy, cut high, nearly exposing everything.
Rachel let out a whistle. “Yes. That’s it. Sexy but not trashy. The perfect blend.”
“You’re insane,” I muttered.
She smirked. “I’m buying it. No use fighting me.”
I knew better than to bother. When Rachel made up her mind, that was that.
“You better wear it for him, too,” she said. “And I want the details.”
“Yes, boss,” I said, rolling my eyes.
She picked out a purple set for herself, and we checked out. I ignored the price; the look on Rachel’s face said she’d fight anyone who objected.
We found lunch in the food court, sinking into a booth with our sandwiches. It had been a slow morning at work, and Mr. Porter had sent both Nate and me home early.
