Chapter Eight
The jolt was abrupt, cold air biting across my bare arms and legs as I shuddered awake. My consciousness came up through fog, sluggish and cranky.
“Wha–”
“Shh.” Cam’s voice rumbled low by my ear, warm and close. “I’m taking you home.”
The hallway swam by as he carried me, everything tilting. Rachel stood at the door, hair mussed, pajama t-shirt hanging off one shoulder. She looked sorry, sheepish almost.
“Cam, no.” My voice was slow, thick with sleep. “I wanted to spend the night here.”
He didn’t hesitate. “No. You’re coming home.”
My head was clearing, a little. Awareness crept in, stiff and petulant.
“Put me down, Cam.”
“She’ll text you tomorrow,” he shot over my head toward Rachel, reaching—with barely an effort—for my overnight bag on the floor. The way he moved, all strength and practiced ease, was both irritating and impressive.
“Stop it, Cam. I don’t want to go home.”
“Too bad.”
I caught Rachel’s tiny, apologetic wave as she closed the door behind us.
The night pressed close, the doorman’s stare following us out, but Cam didn’t slow or look back.
I was deposited into the passenger seat, fingers numb from the chill.
He buckled my seatbelt, tight and careful, then circled around to crank the heat before steering us away into the night.
We rode in silence. My arms were drawn in tight, the thin tank top and shorts no match for my mood or the weather.
I glared out the window, stony and injured.
He’d come to get me, like I couldn’t be trusted alone.
After everything he’d done. After what he’d decided for us.
The arrangement was supposed to be mutual, but I still felt like I’d been railroaded.
The car slid into the driveway. I got out before it stopped rocking, slamming the door with a little more force than was strictly necessary. I stalked ahead, bag hanging from my fist, and realized my key was buried somewhere in its depths. So I waited, foot tapping, the cold nipping at my legs.
He caught up, unlocked the door, and I brushed past him. Stairs, then bedroom. I didn’t even pause.
“Livi, stop!”
I didn’t.
He was right behind, shutting the door with a level of intent that made it bang in the frame. “We need to talk.”
I didn’t turn around. “I don’t feel like talking.” I dragged the covers back and burrowed, desperate to be done with this night. “I just want to sleep without being interrupted again.”
“You’re not going to do this to us!”
I whipped around, surprise sharper than I wanted to show. “Me?! I’m not going to do this to us? What exactly am I doing to us, Cameron?”
He glared, dropping onto the edge of the bed to unlace his shoes. “You’re not going to pull away from me over something you agreed to!”
I could barely get words out. “But you did! You spent months pulling away from me—avoiding me, shutting me out, refusing to even touch me. But that’s fine, right? I’m supposed to suck that up?”
His hand went through his hair, the gesture frustrated and rough. “It wasn’t for no reason, Livi. I was heartbroken.”
“And that gave you the right to punish me? Like I asked for any of this? Like I trapped you into this marriage knowing that you’d never get the family you deserve?” My voice cracked, tears and anger tangled together.
His arms came around me instantly, voice raw at my hairline. “No. Don’t ever think I blame you. I was just lost. I didn’t know how to handle anything.”
“But you know now? Sleeping with other women is the answer?”
He closed his eyes. “I don’t want this forever. I just need you to give me time. It’s only been one night, Livi. Can’t you at least give it a chance? I need to work through this. I want to get back to us. But if you start pushing me away, we’ll just end up right where we were.”
“Maybe that’s where we belong.” My voice was jagged, the words scraping on the way out. “Maybe there isn’t an ‘us’ left.”
His hands framed my face, all sincerity and fierce determination. “Listen to me, Livi. We have to fight for each other. I’m not letting go, and you aren’t either. We’re bigger than this. We’re going to fix it, whatever it takes. Got it?”
For a second, when I looked up, the man I loved was right there again—the same eyes, the same hope, the same intense promise. My resolve faltered and I nodded.
His forehead pressed to mine. “You don’t run off again. When I saw your bag gone, I thought you’d left me. My heart just cracked, Livi. Don’t do that again.” His voice broke, only a little. “If you ever feel like you’re drowning, come to me.”
I grabbed at him, desperate. “Just change your mind. Please. There has to be another way.”
He kissed me, soft and almost shy on my mouth. “I need this, Livi. Let me try to find happiness again. So I can make you happy.”
He didn’t see how impossible that was, how he could break me trying.
∞∞∞
The morning walk to Timeless Treasures was, ironically enough, just that: a kind of gentle, timeless break from everything. Sunlight slanted across the sidewalk. The air was cool but not sharp.
Nate was behind the counter, grinning the moment the bell announced me. “Hi there, pretty lady! Fancy seeing you here.”
His mood was infectious; I found myself smiling. “Is Mr. Porter in?”
Nate leaned over, phone in hand, casual as ever. “Not today. Pops was feeling a little off, so I’m holding down the fort. What can I do for you?”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I was hoping to talk to him about that job he offered me.”
“Oh? Did you decide?”
I nodded, a little shaky but certain. “Yeah, I think it’s a good move. I mean, I love books. And the employee discount…” I tried for a laugh.
He matched it. “That’s the clincher every time. You can start today, if you want.”
My eyes widened. “Don’t I need to fill out forms or something? Or talk to him first?”
Nate shook his head. “He already offered, right? You’re in. I could use a hand. Unless you want to set a schedule?”
I shrugged out of my jacket, feeling lighter. “No, I’m good. Where do you want me?”
He led me behind the counter, into a small kitchen crowded with coffee paraphernalia. The smell alone was a comfort.
“You really are part coffee shop,” I observed, amused.
Nate grinned, dipping his voice like it was a secret. “We dabble. No menu, so it all stays under the radar. Less paperwork; that’s my philosophy.”
I laughed, though I half-hoped there wasn’t a health inspector lurking nearby. “I’m not great with specialty drinks,” I warned him. “I can work a regular coffee pot, but that’s about it.”
He waved it off. “You don’t have to be fancy. Pops is the real coffee snob. I’ll show you the basics. Come on.”
Past the kitchen, the storeroom was stacked wall to wall with boxes. Coffee supplies crowded the front part, and further back, books in every shape and style were squeezed onto shelves or in cartons.
He pointed it out. “The boxes go up alphabetically by author. If somebody calls and needs something pulled, it makes it simple. Most of our stuff ends up on the shelf, but if we think something will be big, we order extras and hide them back here.”
I surveyed the rows: “Seems like you have a lot of big sellers.”
He smirked. “Sometimes Pops bets wrong. If stuff lingers, he donates it to the library or schools.”
“That’s… really nice.”
Nate’s shrug was easy. “That’s just Pops. Anyway…” He led me back up front. “Cash register time. I’ll walk you through it.”
The next few hours were a blur of learning, but in a way that left me content for the first time in forever.
I liked ringing up customers, shelving books, breathing in that mix of coffee and paper and sunlight through plate glass.
By lunch, Nate had disappeared to restock and I was manning the counter alone, confident and even a little proud.
It felt good, having something that was just mine.
My phone buzzed as I slid a book into a bag for a customer.
“Have a nice day!” I called after them, turning to check my screen.
Want to meet me for lunch?
I stared, blinking in surprise. Lunch. With Cam. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked me out, not since everything changed. We’d spent the weekend together—the house, the city, pretending for a while that we were normal—but this was different. This was almost old times.
“Need a break?” Nate appeared silently, not startling me so much as making me self-conscious.
“Oh—I’m good, really.”
He cut me off before I could finish, waving the concern away. “Didn’t realize it was lunchtime. I’m not trying to work you to death. Take an hour, be back at one, and we’ll get your paperwork finished up.”
He made it sound so easy, like everything in the world was simple if you just said it outright.
I slipped out into the sunlight, responding quickly to Cam, picking a spot nearby for lunch.
I didn’t want him to know about the job yet—not because I thought he’d be mad, but because I wanted it for myself.
Just for a little while. My own thing, my own secret.
There wasn’t much I could control, but this… this was mine.
Cam got to the cafe before me, already at an outdoor table. He smiled as I arrived.
“That was fast,” he noted. “Did you Uber?”
I shook my head, careful. “I was just in the neighborhood, running errands.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Good. I’d rather you not be home moping.”
I bristled. As if I was the one at fault, as if he hadn’t set this chain of events in motion. I almost told him right then. But I stopped, holding the secret close.
“I already ordered. Got your favorite.” He reached for the lemonade as it arrived. “Hope that’s okay.”
“It is.” I sipped, relishing the cold tartness. “It’s been a long time since we’ve done this.”
He was silent a moment, then cleared his throat. “I want things to get better. I’m trying, Livi.”
I watched him, wary. Across the table, the waitress delivered our sandwiches and chips, efficient and blessedly uninterested in flirting.
“It shouldn’t have to be an effort,” I mumbled, more to myself than to him.
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.