Chapter 2
TWO
DECLAN
“You look like shit.” Those are the first words I hear from my lovely ex-wife the moment I open the door to my hotel suite.
With an eye roll, I step aside and allow the feisty raven-haired beauty to enter my space. We may be divorced, and she may be seeing someone else now, but I will not lie and say the sight of her doesn’t cause my dick to twitch. Camille has always been a knockout.
Her small waist is hidden underneath her oversized zip up jacket, but her perfect, peachy ass is displayed nicely in black leggings. Her thighs are a little thick, but they still make my mouth water. I’ve spent countless hours with my head between them, and sometimes when I’m feeling lonely at night and touching my dick, I remember what it was like to taste her.
“Earth to Declan! Focus!” she yells, snapping her fingers in front of my face. With a chuckle, I shake my head and let the door slam shut. I wrap my arms around her small frame, inhaling the sweet and familiar scent of her perfume.
“Sorry, baby girl. I was busy checking you out.” With a snort, she quickly pulls away and makes herself comfortable by removing her sandals and plopping onto the couch. “Where’s Dean?” Surprisingly, I have a civil relationship with my ex-wife and her boyfriend. Which is something I never thought would’ve been possible, considering they had an affair behind my back after I got home from rehab.
After Camille and I divorced, Dean flew out to New York to see me. He wanted to talk man to man and apologized for having an affair with my wife. Then, instead of asking for her father’s permission, he asked for mine to marry her.
I laughed in his fucking face, but once I finished laughing, I bought him a beer.
Although, I was the one who had the last laugh when I heard that Camille turned down his proposal.
Our relationship is unconventional. Who the fuck is friends with the man their wife cheated on them with? It’s fucked up, but I want Camille to be happy, and I understand I’m not the one who makes her happy. I was twenty-three when I married her all because of two pink lines. She’d been twenty-two, just graduated college, and had backstage passes to my concert. A few days later, I asked her to come tour with me, and then our life was flipped upside down not long after when she missed her period. We’ve always known we were better at being friends than husband and wife, but we didn’t want our son to be torn between two homes, so we stayed married, putting on a happy face for our child and fighting in private.
I have no ill feelings toward Camille. She’s my best friend, and I want her to be happy—which means accepting Dean. Last I heard, she’s been taking things slow with him. They reconnected a few months ago, and for now they’re only dating, although Dean is ready to marry her the moment she agrees. During the time Camille and I were separated, she and Dean had ended their affair when he found out his wife was pregnant.
Long story short, Dean’s ex-wife lied. She was pregnant, but not with his baby. They divorced, and several months later, he and Camille reconnected and have been dating ever since.
“It’s just me. He had to go to Canada for business, so I came alone. It works out, because I want to talk to you." She tucks her feet underneath her little body and brushes her dark, silky hair away from her heart-shaped face.
“What’s up, is everything okay?” I sit beside her on the couch and turn to face her. I watch with confusion as Camille inhales and slowly, so fucking slowly, unzips her jacket and lets it fall open, revealing a pink tank top that perfectly hugs her curves.
My eyes take in the sight of her cleavage and slowly lower until I see what she’d been hiding.
Holy fuck.
At the sight of her swollen stomach, my jaw drops, and my eyes nearly pop out of my fucking head. “Y-y-you’re pregnant,” I stutter, staring at the proof.
With glossy eyes, she nods her head and rubs her manicured fingers over her bump. “Yes, I’m pregnant. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.” Shrugging out of her jacket, she stands and begins pacing the room, her hands on her hips.
“Fuck! I know the timing is terrible. It’s Luca’s birthday for crying out loud, and here I am, announcing my pregnancy.” She wipes the tears from her face and turns to face me. “I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t plan to ever have any more children. I’m not trying to replace Luca and what you and I had. Please believe that.” Her bright green eyes glisten with sincerity as her soft, vulnerable voice shakes.
Standing, I walk toward her and wrap my arms around her shaking body, rubbing my hands soothingly down her back. “It’s okay, baby girl. I’m happy for you. I am. I don’t think you’re replacing me or Luca; you never could.” Pulling back, I look down at her blotchy face.
“I was so worried to tell you. I wasn’t sure how you’d take it,” she explains, wiping away the tears still streaming down her face. “It’s a girl. I’m due in five months.” Taking a step back, I watch her hands rub over her belly.
My chest tightens, my heart aching with a mixture of emotions. After we lost Luca, I wanted to have another baby for months. Camille said no every time, and I understood her reasoning. Luca hadn’t been planned, and she didn’t want to replace him. She swore she’d never have another baby, but I’ve always known she was meant to be a mother and she’d have another child eventually, even if I wasn’t the one who would father it.
It's bittersweet seeing her happy. Bitter, because I’m not the reason for the smile on her face, and I couldn’t give her the things she needed. But sweet, because she deserves happiness. We were toxic together, and sweet Camille is too beautiful and pure to be dragged down with my toxicity, addictions, and demons.
She truly deserves everything she’s getting now.
Camille lets out a sigh of relief, shoving my shoulder playfully. “I was so worried to tell you! I didn’t know how you’d take it.” I understand where she’s coming from. But I’m happy for her and Dean. She may be my ex-wife, but she’ll forever be my best friend. We have ties that can never be severed. “Say something so I know you’re not mad.”
Wiping a hand over my face, I clear my throat before speaking, “Are you two getting married? Last I heard, you wanted to take things slow.”
“No, we’re not getting married. At least not now. We have a lot of time to make up for, so we are taking things slow. I was on birth control, but this still happened.” She points to her belly. “We’re not even living together. We’d just started dating when I found out.” She wipes her tears away, then pins me with a bright smile.
“Okay, I’m done crying. I’m starving and ready to eat.”
After two large pizzas and a nap, Camille and I leave the hotel to visit the cemetery where our sweet boy is laid to rest. She brought yellow roses and a toy, as she does every time we visit.
I’m ashamed to admit that I only visit once a year with her. She doesn’t live in New York anymore, yet she visits more than me. I just can’t bring myself to stand and stare at Luca’s headstone when I'm responsible for his death. I hate being here, but for her, I suck it up.
I see the distraught look on her face when she sees his beautiful angel headstone, and the weather damaged toys from her last visit. I don’t have the heart to tell her I haven’t been around to visit our boy, but based on the look on her face, I think she already knows.
My chest aches, my eyes instantly becoming glossy with tears. Cam drops to her knees and starts talking to the headstone, as if Luca can actually hear her. I obviously don’t know what happens or where you go when you die, but I’d like to think my boy is watching over his mother and can hear her.
If my boy can see me, I don’t want him watching the way I’m living my life right now. It’s shameful, but the past haunts me. New York haunts me, and I can’t get over the damage I’ve caused in my life.
I hold so much guilt. I let him die because I was too stubborn and wouldn’t let Camille drive. Had I been sober or even handed over the keys, he’d be alive right now. Celebrating his birthday with us.
“Dec, come talk to our son.” Camille’s emotion-filled voice breaks me from my pity party, and I take her small hand and allow her to pull me toward her. I kneel beside her and place my palm on the photo of our son that’s etched into the headstone.
“Hi little man. It’s daddy.” My voice cracks as emotion clogs my throat. “I miss you so much. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” My tears spill as I choke out a cry.
She strokes my back gently, allowing me to hold her tightly and let out all the tears and emotions that I’d been holding in for too long .
“I’m sorry, son. I’m so fucking sorry that I did this to you.” My vision blurs as my body shakes with my sobs. Camille holds me tightly against her body, her own tears silent as they stream down her flawless face.
“Forgive yourself, Declan. It was an accident. Please, forgive yourself.” Cam truly believes it was an accident. She believed me when I said I was too tired and lost control because of the rain that night. She doesn’t know that I was high, and I’ll never have the courage to tell her. The truth might set me free, but it would also ruin us. If she knew, we’d be beyond repair. She’d never speak to me again.
Camille would hate me as much as I already hate myself.
That night, when the ambulance came and rushed the three of us to the hospital, no one ran a blood test on me to check for drugs or alcohol. They ruled it an accident.
No one knows what really happened.
No one but me, and I’ll never tell.
I know she deserves to know, but telling her now, after all this time, will only cause her more pain. She has a new life now, and she doesn’t deserve more tragedy in it.
This is a secret I’ll be taking to the grave.
One I’ll never forgive myself for.
It’s my burden to bear.
Camille spent three days in New York with me, and without fail, every day we visited our son and spent two hours with him. She had a lot to tell him, and I loved to sit there and listen to her. Her green eyes are no longer filled with sadness but with life and happiness. The look on her face is a look I’d only seen directed toward Luca: pure happiness and love. A look that I’ve wanted to see on her face for years.
It was a great visit, but now it’s time for her to return home to Seattle—to her life with Dean. She has to leave soon, but before she goes, she wanted to pay a last visit to our penthouse, which is where we are right now.
Camille dug out our old photo albums and a few boxes from the hallway closet, and now we’re in the living room while she goes through them, deciding what she wants to keep. We signed the papers this morning, and come next week, this place will no longer be ours. A new family will move in.
“Don’t forget that guys from the donation center will be here tomorrow to pick everything up. Are you sure you don’t want to keep anything?” she asks, glancing at me from where she sits on the floor.
I’ve already gathered my clothes and the few personal items I want to keep. Everything else can go. I can’t stand the fact that strangers will go through Luca’s room and his stuff will be sold to someone else, but I know it’s for the best. It can’t stay here. We can’t keep this time capsule forever. It’s not healthy.
“I’m sure. I already have everything I want to keep,” I reply.
She nods. “So, I talked to Adam.” She slams the photo album shut, shoving it into her oversized purse. What the is with women and having such huge purses? What do they even keep in there? “When did you plan on telling me you’re moving to Las Vegas?” She crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at me.
Fuck. Adam has a big mouth.
“I planned on telling you once I got there.”
Her bright green eyes widen. “Seriously, Dec? You were going to move and not tell me?”
“We’re not married anymore, Camille. I don’t have to tell you anything about where I live. Besides, we just sold this place. Where do you expect me to live?”
“Well, I thought you were staying in New York. I didn’t know you were leaving.” I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off. “I think it’s great. It’s a fresh start without any terrible memories. It could be great for you. The change you need.” She stands, her red lips curling into a smile. “I just want to see you happy. That’s all I want for you.” She sighs, looking at the phone in her hand.
Yeah, she and I both, but I know I don’t deserve to be happy.
“I’ve got to go now. My car is here. I’ll call you when I land.” She gathers her purse and suitcase, and I stand, following her to the door.
“I love you, baby girl. Be safe,” I say, wrapping my arms around her, hugging her soft body to me.
“I love you too, Dec. I’ll call you later. Be good out there in Vegas. Maybe Dean and I will visit you soon.” We say our final goodbyes, and then she’s gone, leaving me alone with the little devil on my shoulder telling me to call my dealer and get myself another fix.
Fuck my life.