Chapter Eleven
I woke the next morning still buzzing with joy—the kind that makes you want to roll over and grin into your pillow, just remembering the night before.
Cam had carried me to bed after we made love, and then he took me again, and again, until I was thoroughly spent and sweetly exhausted.
For once, he’d skipped his sunrise jog. He didn’t so much as hint at leaving the warmth of the sheets, anchoring me against his broad chest for those extra few minutes, stealing kisses until the clock was entirely unforgiving. I can’t say I minded.
When he finally dragged himself off to work, he left me with a kiss that still tingled on my mouth the whole day. I barely noticed the hours pass at work—the time just floated by in a gentle hum. People noticed, too.
“I love this look on you, Livi. You’re practically glowing. New lottery numbers?” Nate teased, brushing stray coffee grounds off the stainless steel counter. My spill, obviously.
“No, just…happy, I guess. The weather’s nice,” I said, sliding the mess into the trash with a smile I couldn’t hide.
“Wish the weather did that for me,” Mr. Porter called from the doorway. “Though I’ll admit, a little sunshine is better for the spirit than any tonic I’ve tried.”
I nearly laughed out loud. Sometimes, it felt like the whole shop belonged to a sitcom.
Mr. Porter nodded to the espresso machine in front of me, where I was carefully assembling a regular’s overly complicated order. “You’re getting the hang of that,” he said, grinning over his glasses before he disappeared into the back.
“It’s still a work in progress,” Nate admitted, but he was already moving up behind me. “You know, it’s a science,” he whispered, and then his arms wrapped around me, his big hands folding over mine as he worked the machine. “Right pressure, right heat. Otherwise, you just get sour.”
He was close, so close I felt the warmth of him radiate off his chest and the exhale of his breath tickle the side of my face. Oddly, I didn’t mind.
A sharp cough from the doorway made us both flinch apart. Mr. Porter’s face looked a shade darker, his posture stiffer than usual. “Nathaniel, you’re needed out front.”
As soon as he left, the spell broke. I told myself it was nothing. I only had eyes for Cam, now more than ever.
∞∞∞
After work, I found myself perched at the kitchen bar, phone in hand, scrolling through Cam’s texts from the day. Each one made my heart flutter all over again.
I can’t stop thinking about last night, babe.
I can’t wait to be back inside you.
I love you so much. I’ve missed this.
It was almost like we’d rewound to some perfect memory, before everything got cloudy. But it was Thursday, and that shadow hung at the edge of my thoughts: would Cam still go out? Or was I enough for him now?
He walked in the door at half-past five, and I almost hopped off my stool. If my smile didn’t give me away, the way I nearly ran to him did.
“Hey, baby,” he said, his own grin as wide as mine. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course!” My arms went around him before I even thought about it. He kissed me, slow and deep, the kind of kiss that makes your knees a little weak. “I wasn’t expecting you home,” I admitted, voice hopeful.
“I am,” he said, without elaborating.
For a tiny second, my heart sank. I wanted him to say it—to say he was done with all the rest, that I was more than enough. But maybe he just needed time. I could give him that.
We ordered takeout and stretched out on the couch, watching true crime documentaries and poking fun at the ridiculous choices people made. We laughed until we were breathless, and then one kiss led to another until we were more tangled than the throw blankets. Every touch felt like coming home.
The days that followed slid into a rhythm I’d missed: we spent time together, we made love at night, sometimes again before work. Sometimes he stayed in bed with me, skipping his jogs for those extra, feverish moments. It felt so easy, so right. For a while, I let myself bask in it.
The following Thursday, I saw Cam off to work, pressing myself against him for a lingering goodbye at the car. When he left, I called Rachel, letting the phone ring out before hanging up.
She called right back.
“Hey Rach.”
“Livi, it’s barely sunrise. Why am I awake right now?”
I snorted. “Because you need to get up! I wanted to talk to you.”
She groaned. “You must really love waking me from my beauty sleep.”
“I do, and you’re welcome,” I replied, rinsing out our morning mugs. “But seriously, I have news.”
She perked up, curiosity evident even over the phone. “You sound suspiciously cheerful. Spill.”
“I think we’re back,” I said, my voice tentative but giddy. “Me and Cam. Like really, really back.”
“You think…? Wait, as in, you guys…?”
“Yes, Rachel,” I sighed, though I couldn’t help grinning. “We’ve been at it like teenagers every day for a week.”
She cackled. “Horny bunnies! Good for you, Livi. Now can I go back to sleep?”
“Not yet,” I shot back. “He’s so happy lately, Rachel. It’s like the old Cam again. He didn’t go out last Thursday. He stayed home, with me, all night. I think—I hope—it means he’s done with all that.”
Rachel was silent for a second. I could hear her rustling around her apartment, probably searching for her shoes. “I’m not trying to be a downer, but did he actually say he was done?”
I hesitated. “No, but he didn’t go last week…”
“That’s a good sign, babe. Just don’t get your hopes too high, okay?”
I dropped onto the couch, tucking my legs under a blanket. “But he wants me now. I can feel it. That’s what matters, right?”
“Livi, I think he always wanted you. But wanting you and wanting only you might not be the same thing for him. I just don’t want you to get hurt if it’s not what you imagine. It’s only been a week.”
I hugged the phone, wishing she was there in person. “I know. It’s just been so good…”
“And it should be!” she encouraged. “I hope this is it. Just…keep your guard up, okay?”
I let out a hollow laugh. “You’re right. I’m just hoping.”
∞∞∞
That evening, I waited by the door at 5:30, nervously watching the numbers on the clock. No Cam. My phone stayed stubbornly silent. Not even a text about work running late.
That was how I always knew: if it was just work, he’d find a way to let me know. But when it was Thursday nights, when he went elsewhere, it was silence. He didn’t want to hurt me with a reminder, he’d said, as if silence was any better at all.
I waited. I called him, twice, praying for an explanation. Nothing. Rachel had been right. It hadn’t changed.
He came home just past one in the morning, the house dark except for a single lamp.
I was curled on the couch, hands tight in my lap. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me.
“Livi?” His hand hovered near the switch. “What are you doing up?”
I stood, slowly, numb from sitting so long. My eyes prickled with tears when the scent of another woman’s perfume reached me, and there on his neck—a faint smear of lipstick.
“I thought,” I managed, my voice wobbling, “since you didn’t go last week that–”
He dragged a hand over his face, the look in his eyes all defeat. “No, I just didn’t go last time because she canceled. I didn’t feel like finding someone new.”
“She?” The word was bitter on my tongue. “So you have a regular?”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t need to hear this, baby. It’ll only hurt you.”
“Is she beautiful?” I asked, quietly.
He stepped forward, desperate. “You’re beautiful.” He reached for me, but I dodged him, shifting out of his arms.
“Don’t touch me!” I flinched away, voice rising. “Don’t you dare touch me with her all over you. I thought you’d stopped. I thought you were mine again.”
I was sobbing now, ragged, the words tripping and falling out.
“Livi, I am yours. We’ve been so good, these weeks. Especially since we started having sex again. What more do you want?” His frustration bled through every word.
“I want you! All of you,” I pleaded. “And I want you to want only me. Why can’t you do that?”
His voice went soft, heartbreakingly gentle. “Livi, you already have my heart. No one else even comes close. It’s just physical. Nothing more.”
“But it means more to me,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “You agreed to this, remember? You can’t switch the rules now.”
“I want to go back. I can’t sit here, picturing you out there, with her—or them. I can’t do it,” I said.
“So you don’t want us?” he pressed, something like fear flickering in his voice.
“That’s the whole point! Of course I want us. That’s why I’m fighting.”
“Then you have to let me do this.”
I stared at him, shocked. “Is that a threat?”
His hands went to his hips as he exhaled hard. “You already said yes. We’re not going back. That’s final. Just one night a week, Livi. You can share me for one damn night. I’m just doing what you said was okay, so you need to follow through.”
“Would you divorce me if I say no now?” The words hung heavy, dangerous.
He was silent so long I thought he’d walk out right then.
But when he finally spoke, it was with that same tired, hollow voice. “I don’t want to lose you. But I can’t go back to the way things were. I hated it. I’m sorry this hurts you, Livi. But for now, that’s how it has to be. At least for a while.”
I nodded, because there was nothing left to say. I climbed the stairs, didn’t bother with pajamas, just collapsed in bed and stared at the wall.
He took a shower. I heard the pipes shudder, the dull thud of water slapping tile. Washing her off him. It was all so mechanical; I was left to either accept it, or leave. The second option made my chest ache. How do you breathe without your soul?
Why did loving someone have to mean loving all their sharp edges?
I was still tangled in those thoughts, almost asleep, when he slipped into bed and folded himself against my back. He curved himself around me like a shield, as if that could fix what he’d broken.
His mouth grazed my neck, gentle. “You’re not going to leave me. I know we love each other too much. This isn’t forever—I’ll stop eventually. Please, Livi. Just give me time.”
I wondered, there in the hush, if he realized he was carving pieces off me each time he didn’t walk through the front door. If, by the time he finished, there’d be anything left to give him at all.