driveway then enter through the garage. Camden’s flashy car is inside. I’m glad I won’t be at the house alone, but I’m weighed down by the thought of seeing him.
“You were out early,” Camden says as I set my purse down and hang my coat in the closet.
That’s a problem when you were out all night? I want to ask, but I’m too relieved—and perplexed—that he didn’t notice my clothes are unchanged.
“I was,” I say, quieting the voice in my head that keeps growing louder.
He comes over and wraps his arms around me. He reeks of alcohol and gym clothes.
“Did you go to the gym this morning?” I ask, scrunching my nose and stepping back.
He twists his face to one side, his eyebrows rearranging like a question mark.
I clench, fearing I’ve stumbled into a situation I can’t escape. Do I want to know?
“Your clothes,” I say, pointing to his shorts and hoodie.
“Oh, yeah. I went early this morning, then went back to work. I didn’t have a change of clothes, though, so …”
“You couldn’t just put your other clothes back on? Or did they smell of something worse than BO?” I ask.
Apparently, the voice inside won’t be stifled any longer.
“What are you talking about?” he says with disdain. His shoulders expand.
My head buzzes in warning. I shrink reflexively.
No. I won’t back down. I deserve better, or at least I deserve an explanation.
“Sex,” I snap. “Your clothes. Do they smell like sex? Perfume maybe? Another woman?”
Regret seeps through my pores as his eyes darken and his jaw tightens.
“You really think that? That I have time for anyone else?”
But isn’t it obvious?
“Yes,” I say. The back of my eyes begin to burn, and my throat stings.
Don’t cry. I’ll lose all my power.
No urging stops the tears from revealing my weakness—I still love him. I’ll always love him.
“Charlie’s tennis bracelet, the one that she thought was real, it was from you, wasn’t it?” I say, conviction strong through my wavering emotions.
His face strains as he steps toward me. I step back.
“It was.” He sighs. “It’s not what you think …”
My stomach drops like a broken elevator. What does he mean? What other reason would Camden buy my supposed best friend jewelry? Fake or not, it’s not normal. Not when it’s kept secret from spouses.
“Then what, Camden? What should I think?”
The tears fall freely now. I sniff and wipe at my face, but it’s no use; the tears flow too fast.
He steps toward me again, his hand outstretched like he’s trying to reassure a frightened dog. I don’t move.
I’m not sure if I should believe him, but I want so badly to trust everything that he says, to keep him as mine forever. I should have never started this.
He pulls me to his chest and hunches over, bringing his chin to my shoulder.
“I’d never cheat on you, Olivia,” he whispers.
My heart pounds, and my throat constricts. A fresh wave of tears breaches my eyelids.
I’ll believe him. I want nothing more than to truly believe. And his tone, his touch, they are so sincere.
“I love you, Olivia,” he says, hugging me tighter and running his hand over my hair. “I love you. Only you.”