Chapter Twelve
The next few weeks sort of wove together; nothing changed between us and nothing changed in me.
Cam was still gone every Thursday and I was still keeping my job a secret.
It became a routine—the kind that loops in endless circles.
We spent time together in the evenings if he wasn’t working late or out somewhere, and our weekends were mostly quiet, just the two of us.
We were intimate more often now, which you’d think would feel good, but every time, thoughts of the other woman would wedge themselves in.
Like a shadow at the edge of every touch.
I found myself doubting things I’d never doubted before. Was he happier with her? Did he enjoy her more? She had to be prettier or else why would he need her? Was she curvier? Did she have fuller breasts? The questions swam in my mind, each one tugging me under a little further.
Friday morning, I woke up after another long, tear-soaked night; the circles under my eyes proof that hiding pain doesn’t always work.
Cam must have picked up on it anyway, even though he only whispered apologies into my neck after his ritual post-lover’s-shower.
I ignored him, faking sleep, but the truth was I lay awake, letting silent tears soak my pillow.
And the next morning, I put on my best act, pretending to be okay while Cam wrapped me in all his usual affection before heading out the door.
The second the apartment was empty, I got dressed for the bookstore. If I couldn’t have Cam exclusively, at least I had this. My job, my own little slice of something. No offense to Rachel—I loved her—but the bookstore really was my favorite thing, right after pretending I had all of Cam to myself.
I walked in, ready for coffee #2. I’d gotten pretty good at operating the espresso machines, though Nate still teased me about it all the time.
He was already behind the counter, organizing the register. He grinned as I came in: “Morning sunshine!” He’d started calling me that, and I never really figured out why, but I liked that he did.
“How’s it going?” I said, setting my purse below the counter.
“Good, good,” he replied. “It’s just you and me today. Pops is home sick again.”
“Oh no,” I frowned, instantly worried. Mr. Porter had been getting sick a lot lately; I’d told him to see a doctor, but he was stubborn. “He really should get checked,” I said.
“Yeah, I keep telling him,” Nate sighed. “But he’s impossible. Stubborn old goat.”
I let out a laugh. “That’s harsh.”
He shrugged, then switched gears. “So, what’s your plan today? Want to tackle the new romance display, or are you in a counter mood?”
I scanned the store. “Honestly, you only really need one of us out here at a time. I can handle the whole place if you want to work on your… real job.” I nudged him gently.
Nate’s face turned thoughtful, his grey eyes serious. “I like it here, Livi. I want to be here.”
I smirked and poked him again. “Well, far be it from me to stop you.”
The morning picked up fast. I moved between customers and setting up the new romance display. There was a big release by a local author and people were basically fighting over the books.
I was restocking the table when a petite brunette stomped in, her phone glued to her ear and her voice rising over the shelves.
“I’m going to be late to lunch; I have to get a book for my niece, some new romance she’s obsessed with. Her birthday’s coming up, so crisis averted!”
She hovered by the display, grabbed a book off the pile, turned it over and over like she wasn’t sure. I was about to ask if she needed a hand when she burst out laughing—a high-pitched, delighted sound that startled me.
“Oh my god, yes! I had the best time last night. This guy? Amazing in bed. Super hot. And well-endowed, if you get my drift.” Her voice dipped lower, as if she cared about people overhearing, but I heard it all anyway.
I bit the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. The things people said in bookstores.
“Yeah, it's been going steady for a while now, like two months of non-stop heat.” Another pause. “No, it’s no strings for now, but I’m working on it. He’s in some kind of open relationship, but Becky, honestly, any woman who shares a man like that is delusional. I couldn’t do it.”
I froze mid-reach, a book in my hand. Her words prickled across my skin. Was she—
“Seriously,” she continued, “every Thursday night he’s over, and his girlfriend or wife or whatever just waits at home. He says she’s too in love with him to see anybody else. So obsessed that she lets him fool around while she sits home alone. She must be so weak.”
She looked up and gave me a polite, oblivious smile.
And I saw her clearly then. Expensive suit, perfectly styled hair, high heels that made her legs look incredible.
She was confident and sharp, probably a lawyer.
The exact type I’d always imagined Cam admiring.
Of course, I thought. Of course she would look like this.
Suddenly, it all made sense. He wanted a woman like that.
Classy, powerful, put together. It didn’t matter that it had been Cam’s idea for me to be a homemaker; now it just felt like he was planning his upgrade.
I’d never thought of myself as ugly, not really, but looking at her, it was impossible not to see all the ways I might lack.
A heavy hopelessness settled over me. He was slipping away, and the woman was already digging in her claws.
I could see how easily Cam might give in.
I believed he loved me but what if she was everything he was missing?
She wanted to keep him; she said it out loud.
I was barely holding onto him as it was.
I realized I was still hunched over the romance display, staring straight at her. Nate had to take the stack of books from my hands before I noticed he was there.
“Livi?” he said softly, concern clouding his voice. “Are you okay?”
I didn’t answer right away, still caught in the undertow of realization.
“His name’s Cameron,” the woman said at the counter, getting rung up by the night shift employee that had come in early. “Hotshot CEO, downtown office. He thinks it’s just for fun, but I’m playing for keeps, and we both know I always get what I want.”
She actually laughed—a quick, villainous little cackle that made me picture a Disney villain, but this wasn’t a cartoon.
Cam had chosen her. He was the one who carved this space out of our marriage so he could see her.
I’d agreed. And it was becoming clear this was just the start of something bigger.
I managed a shaky breath. Nate leaned in, voice just for me: “Go take a break in the back. I’ll handle the rest.”
I nodded and slipped away, not trusting myself to even look at that woman again.
I made it through the doorway before I totally lost it—the tears came fast and hot, and I ducked between two metal shelves stacked with coffee bean bags, pressing my back to the cool wall.
The smell was comforting, earthy and warm.
I let myself cry, hard and ugly, hand over my mouth to muffle the sobs.
I hated that she was right. I was weak. I should have left the second Cam asked for this kind of arrangement, but I hadn’t.
I’d stayed, clinging to shreds of our old life.
The worst part was, even now, knowing how pitiful it made me, I couldn’t bear to leave.
The thought of losing him, losing the comfort of his touch, the late-night conversations, the laughter, the warmth of his hand in mine—it was like imagining a world with no air.
Every moment with him was precious, even if it was tainted.
I knew he was selfish, and I hated the choices he made, but when it was just us, it was almost perfect again.
I slid down the wall until I sat on the floor, arms wrapped tight around my knees, letting the grief run its course. I barely noticed when Nate knelt beside me.
“Livi, what happened?” he whispered, one hand gentle on my arm. “Did that woman say something to you?”
I shook my head, unable to look at him. “No, she… she didn’t do anything.” I stared down, embarrassed by the mess I’d become and the mess I’d made of my marriage.
He eased down beside me. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I’m here,” he said. “No judgement. Friends take care of each other. I hope you know I consider you a friend.”
The confession tumbled out. “She’s sleeping with my husband,” I blurted, voice barely audible.
He stiffened, fingers tightening around my sleeve. “That woman that just left? Are you serious?”
Then I said everything. The infertility. Cam’s distance. The open marriage, the rules, the Thursdays. The raw pain of overhearing the truth spilled out. Once I started talking, I couldn’t stop, and when I finished, I was breathless.
Nate was quiet, letting the truth hang between us. Then, finally: “Let’s go to lunch.”
It was so normal, so plain, I almost laughed. “That’s all you have to say?”
He smiled a little, like he didn’t want to push. “Of course not. But your stomach just rumbled, and I think better with food anyway. Come on.”
“Okay,” I said, letting him help me to my feet. “Just need to clean up first.”
In the bathroom I stared at my reflection, trying to repair the damage. My eyes were red and swollen, impossible to hide. I splashed water on my face anyway, then headed back out where Nate waited with his keys.
“Anywhere you want to go?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You choose.”
He suggested the Italian place a block away, and I agreed. We’d eaten there before, back when things at home felt a little easier.
The place was nearly empty, which felt like a relief; the last thing I wanted was an audience for my misery. I picked at my spaghetti while Nate tried to figure out what to say.
“It’s okay,” I told him. “You can call me an idiot. I know it already.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. Livi… that’s a lot.
But I need you to know—I don’t think you’re an idiot, or weak.
I think you’re in love, really in love, and you’re trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense.
I think you feel guilty, like you owe Cam for something you can’t control, and you’re willing to do anything for his happiness. ”
The waiter came, giving me a moment to think. Was that true? Was I letting Cam get away with this because I felt broken myself?
I twirled pasta on my fork, hoping the answer might float to the surface.
“Do you blame yourself?” Nate asked softly.
I looked up, surprised. “For the infertility?”
He nodded.
“I mean, I know it’s not my fault. But it hurts. It hurts because Cam wanted that so badly, and I couldn’t give it to him. He doesn’t blame me, but I think he blames fate, maybe. Or the universe.”
“Did you ever think about adoption?”
I nodded. “I did, but Cam shuts down when I try to bring it up. Or surrogacy. He just won’t talk about it. The doctor suggested both, but he can’t seem to go there.”
“Why do you think that is?”
I studied my plate. “I think he just had this vision, you know? That we’d get pregnant the old-fashioned way, have a big birth in the hospital, bring home a baby that was both of us. He isn’t against adoption—I don’t think. But he can’t let go of the dream.”
“So instead, he runs off and loses himself in another woman.”
I flinched, but it was true. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it.”
“So what do you want, Livi? For your marriage?”
I looked at him, feeling empty. “I just want him to stop this. The open marriage. But he told me he’s not ready to let go yet.”
“And you’ll just wait?”
“What choice do I have? If I push, I’ll lose him. I’m not ready for that.”
“What if he never stops?”
A stray tear rolled down my cheek. “Then I’ll have to leave him, eventually.
I’ll give him time now, let it play out.
But I can’t stay forever if he won’t quit.
It hurts more with every week that goes by.
And honestly, the longer this goes on, the less I want to stay.
When it’s just us, I feel like the only woman in the world.
But when he’s gone—even when he’s just at work—it feels like part of me is missing. ”
Nate devoured his lasagna, which made me laugh a little; he had a way of eating like he was racing someone, even though he was so fit. Mr. Porter and I teased him about it at every lunch.
“Have you thought about seeing someone else? Too?”
I shook my head. “I just can’t. I love Cam. I can’t imagine being with another man like that.”
He considered this, then smiled, the dimple in his cheek deepening. “Then don’t. But you could still distract yourself with friends. Like, come see a movie with me on Thursday.”
I blinked. “Like a date?”
He grinned wider. “Not a date. Promise. Just something to get your mind off him. Especially since he’ll be out.”
I thought about it while the waiter cleared our plates. “Dessert?” he asked.
“I’ll have the cherry cheesecake,” Nate said, not hesitating.
I didn’t bother hiding my smile. “None for me,” I told the waiter.
Nate turned back to me, waiting. “So, what do you say? Come to the movies with me. You know I’m a good movie partner.”
“Okay,” I agreed. “Just as friends.”
He beamed, looking like he’d just scored a massive win.
The cheesecake arrived and he dug in, sighing contentedly as he took a huge bite.
The look on his face made something flicker in me—a warmth I hadn’t felt in a long time for anyone except Cam.
It startled me, but I pushed the feeling aside.
Nate was my coworker and my friend, nothing more.
There was nothing wrong with spending time with a friend, especially when Cam was out.
“Livi, you have to try this,” Nate said, scooping up a forkful and offering it to me.
I leaned in, letting him feed me a bite. The cheesecake was creamy and light, with tart cherry topping that tasted like spring.
“Oh wow. That’s amazing,” I said after I swallowed.
He watched me, his gaze almost too intense. “I can order you a slice.”
“Maybe next time,” I said, glancing at the clock. “We should get back.”
“Next time,” he echoed, the words lingering between us a heartbeat longer than necessary.