Page 17 of What He Always Knew

“Are you fucking kidding me, man?” Reese said incredulously.

“No, of course not,” I added quickly. “Come on, let’s go back to the table.”

“I think we should go.” Cameron’s grip on my hand was strong, his eyes still narrowed at Reese.

Reese started toward us, but I turned to warn him with my eyes not to press.

“I still have another set,” he said.

“I think we’ve heard enough.” Cameron’s words were final, and he tucked me under one arm with the punctuation of them, guiding me out of the bathroom.

I didn’t look back.

“Are you okay?” Cameron asked once we were moving through the crowd.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I nodded, crossing my arms over my middle. “I just want to go home.”

Cameron walked me to the front first, giving the valet our ticket and wrapping me in my coat before excusing himself to go back to our table. I watched him from across the restaurant as he let everyone know we were leaving, that I wasn’t feeling well. He made his way back to me quickly, just as Reese took the piano again, and my eyes flicked between the two of them.

I hated them both.

But I loved them both, too.

And for that, I hated myself.

Cameron

Nothing killed me quite as much as the sight of Charlie crying.

Maybe that was why I’d had to use every ounce of willpower in me not to smash Reese’s face into the bathroom sink at The Kinky Starfish. That’s what I told myself, although I knew the bigger part of that was the fact that he had my wife locked in a bathroom with him.

Alone.

Andshe was crying.

My fists tightened around the steering wheel at the memory of it, and I cracked my neck, reciting every calming word I had to keep my cool. Every cell in my body wanted to combust with the rage I felt toward that man, toward what he’d done to my wife — to my marriage.

I wanted to forbid her from ever seeing him again, to move us across the country and away from him, but that wouldn’t fix anything.

The truth was I couldn’t tell Charlie what to do, or whatnotto do. She didn’t belong to me.

I’d lost that privilege, and even when I’d had it, I never would have used it.

I respected her too much.

I didn’t want her to do something because she felt obligated to, least of all stay with me, or stay away from him. All I truly wanted was her happiness. Did I yearn to be the one she found it with? More than anything. But if she didn’t, if her happiness was with him at the end of it all, I would bow out as gracefully as I could and wish them well.

But tonight, he hadn’t made her happy. He’d made her cry.

And I wanted to murder him.

Charlie was still sniffling as we drove into our housing development. My hand had found her knee when we rounded the last corner before our driveway, and I squeezed gently, letting her know I was there.

“Want me to run you a hot bath?” I asked when we were parked.