Page 55 of Circle of Strangers
My patience is growing thinner by the second with this woman. “I’m sorry, but I feel like you’re talking in circles with this whole Mara thing.”
She blinks rapidly. “What do you mean?”
“One minute you tell me she’s a husband stealer, the next minute you tell me she’s harmless. Then you say it could go either way. You don’t seem to like her, yet you’ve been talking to her quite a bit. I’m confused about where you stand.”
I’ve learned, over the years, not to listen to people’s words so much as the intention behind them. Usually you can tell what people are trying to get you to feel. Sozi’s a bit different in that regard, though. It changes almost every time I talk to her—not unlike my sentiments regarding our friendship. I remind myself that, at the very least, shecures my boredom and offers me a distraction. She isn’t a complete waste of time, all of the time.
Her expression hardens, her eyes squinting as she studies me. “Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.”
I stay silent, waiting for an elaboration that never comes.
“So ... should I be worried?” I bait her. “Or not?”
Her mouth bunches at one side. “I’m honestly not sure. But I’ll keep an eye on things. And if she says anything concerning, you’ll be the first to know.”
“I appreciate that,” I say. “If Mara comes around my house again, if you see her and Will talking, I want you to tell me, okay?”
“I can do that. What are you going to do if you find out Will’s actually having an affair?” she asks, her tone cautious but curious—almost as if she’s asking out of concern, but not concern for Mara.
I smile, but it’s a cold, dangerous thing. “I’m not sure.”
Sozi leans back against the couch, taking me in. “You’ve got this.We’vegot this. It’s all going to be okay ... whatever happens.”
I don’t know why Sozi thinks this is a team effort, but something tells me one of these days, her watchful eyes are going to prove to be invaluable.
For that reason alone, I decide to maintain our friendship for now.
43
When I pull into the driveway that afternoon, the kids bouncing with excitement in the back seat, I spot them—Will and Oscar, standing by the edge of our yard, talking.
A flash of irritation ignites in my chest. I told Will to stay away from the Morenos, and yet here he is, blatantly ignoring me, ignoring my request.
Again.
“Insidenow,” I tell the kids, the sharp tone of my voice misdirected at them. They scramble out of the car, too distracted by their own chatter to notice the tension radiating off me. I watch them disappear through the front door before I head toward the men, each step fueled by a quiet fury.
Oscar glances my way first, a polite smile flashing briefly across his face. Will, however, doesn’t look surprised. He just watches me approach with a calm, neutral expression that makes my skin crawl.
“Hi, Camille,” Oscar says, giving me a nod. “I was just about to head out. Will, thanks for the talk. Camille, good seeing you.”
I don’t respond. I barely acknowledge him with a lightning-fast glance as he walks away, leaving just the two of us on the front lawn.
Will rubs the back of his neck and shifts his weight slightly, looking uncomfortable for the first time in a long time.
“What was that about?” My voice is cool and measured, but inside I’m burning alive, furious.
Will exhales. “He was apologizing for everything.”
“Apologizing?” I repeat, skepticism dripping from the word.
“I assured him there are no hard feelings. And then I reiterated that both youandI would prefer to keep things cordial but distant going forward.”
I narrow my eyes, searching his face for any signs of deception. The words are right—exactly what I wanted to hear—but there’s something else. A flash of something darker in his eyes. He’s not giving me the full story.
That or he’s afraid of me, of my wrath.
And he should be.
