Page 54 of What He Always Knew

I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to think telling her the truth would change that.

My eyes closed on a breath, and I scrubbed my hands down my face before letting them fall against my thighs. I looked anywhere but at Charlie, and all I knew in that moment was that I couldn’t go back inside that house with her. Not yet.

“I’m going for a walk.”

I started for the road, and Charlie didn’t move, letting me pass her as a long sigh left her lips. The blood and adrenaline that had rushed through me settled when my feet hit the blacktop, and I clenched my jaw, fighting against my own tears that were threatening to fall.

“It’s going to get cold soon,” she called behind her.

“I’ll be fine.”

And though I’d omitted telling her the whole truth about Natalia, that last sentence was the first lie I’d ever said outright to my wife.

I would be a lot of things that night, and in the next few weeks, and for the rest of my life, should I lose her.

But “fine” was not one of them.

Not even close.

Charlie

I’m not sure how long I stood at the edge of our driveway before I dragged my suitcase inside. It was long enough for dusk to settle in, for my bare arms to get chills, and for me to be able to look as far as I could down the road and not see Cameron.

The tiny bit of joy I’d managed to find the last night of the conference with Reese had vanished the moment we pulled into my neighborhood, and as if I thought that sick feeling that had rested in the pit of my stomach couldn’t get any worse, Cameron had walked outside.

He’d seen us. Together. And I knew the kind of pain that came with that sight.

I couldn’t believe he’d tried to fight Reese, and yet, I didn’t blame him. Maybe if I had been a stronger woman the day I’d walked in on him and Natalia, I would have tried to fight her, too. Maybe if I were the me who existed now, the woman who wasn’t okay with just numbly floating through her life and her marriage, perhaps then I would have pulled that woman off my husband by her long, blonde hair.

Perhaps I wouldn’t have stayed.

No, I couldn’t blame Cameron for reacting the way he did, and I couldn’t blame myself for him storming off the way he did, either. Maybe it’s what we both needed — space, distance.

I didn’t want to hurt Cameron, and yet it seemed I didn’t know how to stop.

I sighed once I was in the house, dropping my purse and suitcase at the door and kicking off my shoes. All I wanted was a hot bath and a glass of wine, and time alone.

Time to think. Time to process.

I abandoned my phone on the table in the foyer, too, knowing Reese would likely text or call soon. I wanted time away from him as much as I did away from Cameron. So, I left the phone, making my way to the kitchen to pour some wine, but I didn’t make it five steps before I stopped dead in my tracks.

Jane.

She was the first thought in my mind when I heard the chirps, but I recognized quickly that they weren’t hers. I knew her songs, just like I knew Edward’s, and the little tweets coming from our sun room were nothing like them.

They were a bit lighter, softer, sweeter.

I tiptoed toward the source of the sound, turning on lights as I slowly crossed our dining room. When I flipped on the switch that lit our sunroom, I gasped, hands flying to cover my mouth.

The beautiful, bright patio furniture I’d picked out for that room, the set that once took up most of the space inside it, had been slid over to the far right. And to the left, taking up half the room now, was the absolute last thing I expected to find.

An aviary.

Shiny, new welding wire stretched over beautiful stone, creating a home for lush greenery, bright perches and flowers to match, beautiful ficus trees, and the main attraction — two beautiful, happy, chirping finches.

I stood outside the aviary, watching them jump from perch to tree branch before they’d take flight and find a new place to land. They seemed to stick together like glue, the smallest one guiding the slightly larger one, and it was all I could do to just stare at them in wonder.

The smaller one was mostly white, it’s belly fluffy and bright as snow, with misshapen little patches of light brown dotting its head and back. It was small enough that I knew it would fit easily in the palm of my hand, just by sight alone, and I assumed from the way its mate followed that she was a girl.