Page 77 of Fault Lines
The next thing was a picture. My heart froze.
Cam, sitting across from Lacey—his assistant. Hands joined across the table, faces shining at each other in intimate candlelight. The restaurant looked expensive, romantic. My throat closed.
Lacey. Lacey was supposed to be off-limits. That had been one, single, clear rule.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach. My phone slipped from my hand and clattered against the metal floor of the Ferris wheel car.
Nate scooped it up. “Livi? What’s wrong?”
He read the messages, his eyes narrowing. “Bastard.”
The next thing I knew, I was crying into his shoulder, the dam bursting open all at once.
“That’s Lacey,” I gasped, half-choking. “His secretary or whatever. We agreed he couldn't see her; it wasn’t safe, they work together. But I guess the rules were just there to make me feel better. He didn’t mean them. Not really.”
Nate’s arms were a wall around me, holding in all the broken pieces. “Shhh, sweetie,” he whispered. “Don’t let him do this to you.”
“I want to go home,” I hiccupped. “I’m sorry, I ruined the whole night.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get you home safe. Just hold onto me, okay?”
I did. I ignored the stares when we left the ride, ignored the stranger who stopped us and asked if I was all right. Nate shielded me from most of the looks, walking at a pace that made everything else blur by.
We’d been driving for about a half hour before my phone rang. I’d pulled myself together enough to manage a shaky hello.
“Rachel?” I said, tapping the speaker button.
Her voice came through, full of concern and guilt. “Livi! I’m so sorry to have texted you like that. I was worried when you stopped responding. Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not, but… are you?”
“Yeah, Rach, I’m fine. Why are you even in Las Vegas?”
“Jackson’s cousin is getting married tomorrow. They’re eloping. He thought it would be a good time to introduce me to his parents since their whole family will be there.”
“Oh,” I said, my voice flat and stupid in my own ears. “So his cousin is the nephew of Cam’s colleague. The work conference was just an excuse—they wanted the uncle to attend some elopement, and everyone got to gamble a little. Except, honestly, Cam probably didn’t even have time for any of that. Not with work and his… other activities.”
On the other end of the line: nothing. Silence from Rachel, not even the soft hiss of breath. Nate, too, was quiet as a crypt beside me, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the only sign he’d heard a word.
I swallowed, forcing myself to keep talking although I wasn’t sure why. “But maybe,” I pushed on, “maybe it’s not what it looked like, Rach. She’s his assistant, after all. Maybe theywere catching up on tasks, or passing ideas around over dinner. Friends hold hands sometimes, right?”
“That was his assistant?” Rachel’s tone sharpened. “The one you said he’d agreed not to see?”
I nodded instinctively, forgetting she couldn’t see. “Yeah. That was Lacey.”
Another silence, the kind that spread like spilled ink.
“What is it, Rach?”
“Livi…”
I couldn’t stand the waiting. “Just spit it out,” I said, more sharply than I’d intended.
She exhaled, a tremor running through the air. “Livi, Jackson and I—we followed them. When I left, I thought maybe we were wrong too. But they went straight up to Cam’s hotel room together.”
A cold, hollow space opened up inside me. “Well,” I said, gripping at hope, “maybe they just… went up to get paperwork or something. Maybe they’re just working.”
“I thought of that,” Rachel replied, voice going flat. “So Jackson went to the front desk, asked if a Mr. Cameron James was checked in. The guy said yes, he and his lovely wife checked in to their room last night. Livi, he said room—not rooms. They’ve been sharing a hotel room for two nights.”
The words hit like stones. How could Cam do this to me? Hadn’t I given and given, more than enough already? But it was never enough. Never would be. He’d keep taking until there was nothing left.
