Chapter Twenty-Four
The days that followed merged together, a soft-edged haze where nothing seemed certain except the ache of what I now knew.
I kept catching myself, half poised to bring it up to Cam—the lies, the secrets, all of it—and then just as quickly I’d retreat, desperate to forget, to lose myself in whatever scraps of peace I could find.
Cam was attentive when he was home, but he was barely home at all that week.
Late nights at work, he said. I wanted to believe him, cling to the image of the man I’d loved for so long.
But the certainty was gone. Now that I had seen the crack in the foundation, all of his darkness was seeping up, plain and strange as black veins threading their way to the surface of his skin.
My love for him was still there, solid, but dulled, almost ghostly—a relic of another time, another version of him.
It felt more like I was in love with a photograph: the old Cam, the dreams of a future we might never get back to.
I tried to lose myself in the routine of the bookshop, where Nate was a constant, gentle presence.
At work, he treated me the same as always, but I noticed every small touch—a hand at my lower back, his palm lingering at my elbow, the way his fingertips tucked stray hair behind my ears.
Maybe I should have minded; instead, every gesture felt like balm.
It was a Thursday morning, unusually quiet, when Nate breezed in as I was wrestling with the overstocked books in the back.
“Morning!” he called, all bright cheer. “Sorry I’m late, had to catch up on some work for the library.”
I stacked books into loose towers, laughing. “Can you even be late if you don’t work here?”
He grinned, a flash of dimple. “Where’s Pops?”
“He called in sick. Not feeling so great again.”
Nate’s laughter softened into a concerned grunt. “Did he get his test results yet?”
I shook my head, worry pulling at my mouth. “He hasn’t told me if he did. I hate this—I keep thinking maybe it’s something serious.”
Nate nodded, eyes shadowed. “It’s not just the usual getting older stuff. He’s been off for a while.”
I thought of Mr. Porter’s easy smile, his warmth. The way he made everyone feel welcome. The shop wasn’t the same without him, and I missed him more than I expected.
And then the moment shifted, lighter as Nate said, “So, it’s Thursday.”
I chuckled, “So it is.”
“Cam going out tonight?”
I shrugged, breaking down a cardboard box. “Supposedly. He hasn’t said otherwise, not that he’s been around much lately.”
Nate hesitated, then: “So… you coming over tonight? We could, you know, Netflix and chill?”
A startled laugh burst from me. “You’re terrible at being subtle, you know that?”
His grin just got wider, his dimple deepening. “Should I be less subtle? I’ve been looking forward to this all week. Ever since you stayed over and let me hold you through the night—I’ve been dying for more.”
I ducked my head, suddenly needing coffee. “You know I can’t spend the night.”
He followed me as I filled the brew basket, voice gentle. “I know. But you could stay, for a little while. After.”
I measured out grounds with hands that shook, just a little. “Nate, I…” The words tangled up in my throat.
He caught my cheek with his knuckles, warm and careful, tipping my face up to his.
“Tell me, Livi,” he murmured. “Are you having second thoughts? Because it’s okay if you are.”
I looked at him, so close it made everything else fall away. “I’ve never been with anyone but Cam. It’s not—I want this, I do, but it feels new, and I’m scared. I already feel close to you, but it’s still scary.”
His smile was soft, melting the nerves right out of me. “We don’t have to rush. If you’re only comfortable cuddling, I’ll take it. This goes exactly at your pace. I told you, I’m patient.” He laughed, a little self-mocking. “I mean, I’m dying here, but you’re worth it.”
Some of the tension inside me unfurled. “You’re the best, Nate. You really are.”
∞∞∞
Later that night, I stood at Nate’s door clutching a bottle of wine, wondering if I’d built this moment up too much in my head.
He pulled me in. “What took you so long?” His eyes crinkled with mischief.
I laughed. “You saw me all day at work,” I reminded him, toeing off my shoes.
“Never enough. I can’t get enough of you.”
We navigated to his kitchen, where he produced two glasses. “You really didn’t have to bring wine, you know. I have plenty. Plus, my stuff’s top notch.”
“Oh, please. Your wine is foul,” I teased, and his mouth dropped open in mock horror.
“Blasphemy! My wine’s fantastic.”
“It’s dry and bitter and tastes like moldy grapes,” I said. I wagged the grocery store bottle at him. “This is at least drinkable.”
He clutched his chest. “You have no class. But for you, I’ll drink your sugar water and pretend to enjoy it. But what about the fancy bottle you brought last time?”
“Well, I didn’t want to bring the cheap stuff until I was sure you wouldn’t judge me. And, look”—I smiled at him over the rim of my glass as I settled onto the couch—“here you are. Judging.”
He trailed after me, remote in hand. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He sank down beside me, close and warm. “So… Netflix and chill?”
“Dealer’s choice,” I said, folding my legs beneath me.
“Romance it is,” he replied, scanning the menu. “It has the highest chance of putting you in the mood.”
I shoved his arm, giggling. “You’re hopeless.”
He just shrugged, smiling like he already had everything he wanted. “I’m a man, you’re a woman. Who could blame me?”
He picked an old Matthew McConaughey movie, and as it played, I let his arm wind around me, and the glass grow emptier in my hand, and time slip past. After a while, I excused myself, wandering down the hall to the bathroom.
I stared at my reflection for a long moment.
What was I doing? Here in another man’s apartment, playing at date night while my husband was doing God knows what with someone else.
How had we become this? Was there even a point to us anymore, if neither of us could be faithful to the other—not even in spirit?
But then I thought of Cam. When he was home, his touch still did something to me, and his voice still pulled me toward him, even when I didn’t want to go. I was still hopelessly tangled in him, love and anger twined together.
But Nate was something different. Solid. Patient. Kind in all the ways I remembered needing before I even met Cam. If I went to bed with Nate—it wouldn’t just be sex. It would be more.
Cam had opened the door, whether he realized it or not. Maybe it was time he learned what really lived on the other side.
I took a deep breath and let the hurt untangle itself inside me. Tonight wasn’t about Cam. Not about anything but what I wanted.
I came back to the living room and straddled the couch, facing Nate. I caught his face in my hands and kissed him, not giving myself time to think.
He didn’t hesitate, setting his wine glass aside and pulling me closer. His lips were warm, and not hurried, and kissing him felt instantly familiar. His hands found my waist; mine cupped his jaw. I shifted, climbing into his lap, and the hardness beneath me left no doubt as to what he wanted.
His hands slid to my hips, a steadying grip as I rocked against him. The rough denim, the press of him—it was all different, but I wanted more.
“Do you have a condom?” Breathless, I pulled back enough to ask.
He nearly toppled me as he bounded to his feet, returning moments later, foil packet in hand.
I raised an eyebrow. “Eager much?”
He just grinned, tearing the wrapper open. “Never been more ready for anything.”
He shucked off his jeans and boxers, and I was surprised—but pleased. For his size, he was… impressive. Not that I really had much to compare to, but it looked good to me. He rolled the condom on and tugged me back to him, impatient now.
I peeled off my leggings slowly, letting him see every inch, then let my underwear drop, unapologetic. There was nothing nervous or shy in the way he looked at me. Unlike with Cam lately, I didn’t feel like I was being measured against anyone else. I was the only one in Nate’s gaze.
My shirt and bra followed, and he didn’t waste a second before his mouth closed over my skin, teeth scraping my nipple, his hands rough but careful. I shivered at the sensation, letting myself sink into it.
I eased myself onto him, slowly at first, getting used to him—a little shorter maybe, but thicker, and I had to adjust. Nate’s hands never stopped moving, stroking my arms, cupping my breasts, guiding my movements as I started to ride him.
I lost myself in it. The world faded out except for the pleasure and the heat and the way his voice rasped against my ear, rough and needy. “You feel so good, baby. I could stay inside you forever.”
That pushed me closer, grinding harder, not caring about the movie whispering in the background or even the sound I was making. When he pinched my clit with his fingers, the pleasure washed over me in a burning wave, all-consuming. I cried out, shuddering against him, my whole body sparking.
He just grinned, wild and proud. “It’s not over yet.”
He scooped me up and laid me flat on the plush couch, covering me with his body. His cock slid back inside, and he started to thrust, hard and precise, as my legs locked around him. His thumb was relentless at my clit, sending aftershocks through me until I thought I might break apart.
He didn’t let up, not when I arched under him, not as sweat beaded on his chest and dripped onto my skin. If anything, the way I clung to him seemed to drive him further. He gave me everything until he was shaking, and finished with a raw groan, pulsing deep inside me as I shattered again.
He collapsed onto me, all heat and sweat and heavy satisfaction. I wrapped my arms around his back, letting the thumping of his heartbeat steady us both. We stayed like that for long, silent moments, until he finally lifted his head and looked at me.
“Hey. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
Tears had slipped out without me noticing. I shook my head. “No, I’m just… overwhelmed.”
Which was the truth. It was so good, but it was also the first time I’d ever really crossed the line. For a second, it was dizzying—the space between me and Cam felt like a yawning chasm, too wide to fix. Would he even want to fix it, after this?
Nate eased out of me and pulled me to his chest. “Don’t feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know. Or—I want to know. I’m just sorry. You deserve better than someone crying after sex. I really did enjoy it.”
He wiped my cheeks, kissing my hair. “Hey, it’s fine. I know you’re going through a lot. I just want you to feel safe here. What do you need?”
I burrowed deeper into his neck. “Just hold me. Can we stay here a while?”
“Of course,” he said immediately, standing with me still in his arms. He surprised me with his strength, and I laughed softly as he carried me to his bedroom, tucking me beneath the sheets.
He left for the bathroom, and I admired the view. He really did have a great ass.
He returned, sliding into bed behind me, arms wrapping tight. “Set an alarm, just in case we crash,” he murmured.
“I wish I could stay all night,” I whispered, half hoping he’d ask me to.
“Me too, Livi. Me too.”
And we lay there in the quiet, letting the world outside wait a little longer.