Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Leif
For two days, I stew in silence.
My house feels fucking strange without Cami’s presence. I miss her silly bath bombs and the robe that used to hang on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. I miss the scent of her perfume and even finding strands of her hair stuck to my T-shirts when I pull them from the drier.
Hell, I miss my wife.
Damien’s called. Jensen and King. Even Annie.
Dad’s texted. Mom’s left an alarming number of voice notes.
I’ve told everyone that I need a few days to myself.
Because of course, they saw the photos of Cami and Levi having coffee. Everyone in the fucking country has seen them and I’m the poor bastard whose wife dumped him for a rock god.
That cuts on a different level. Knowing that Cami left me in Honey Harbor to have a fucking latte with a man who left her drugged in a hotel room is a hit my ego can’t take.
And it hurts. It hurts to know I’m going to get a divorce. That I couldn’t make my marriage work. That I couldn’t convince Cami that we’re amazing together.
Because we are.
She made me feel rooted in a way no one has. She made the future I yearn for feel tangible. We changed my house into our home and with her, events—like weddings and time with friends—took on new meanings.
The pride I felt watching her connect with my teammates, the genuine joy of her clicking with Piper, the delight I felt when my friends told me she’s the one. Did I read it wrong? Did they lie?
How could she do this to me again? And how could I not properly see the signs?
Am I that desperate for what my parents have? For what Chris and Hudson have found with Casey and Piper? For what my brothers have discovered with their women?
I’m still carrying around Cami’s engagement ring but now, instead of a source of hope, it’s a reminder of my own delusions. She never wanted to be my wife. She never wanted what I yearned for.
I’m the fool who thought I could change her mind.
Since I returned to Knoxville, Cami’s sent me text messages and voice notes. I’ve sent her calls to voicemail. I’m not ready to face her. I’m sure she wants to arrange a time to come and move the rest of her belongings out of our house. She grabbed a bunch of her clothes, but not all.
And when that day comes, the loneliness will hit harder. Weigh heavier. I’m not ready to face it and as a result, I’m ignoring her along with everyone else.
I spend the day playing video games. Since I’m ignoring reality, Jensen and Bailey make it a point to connect with me through Realm Crusaders and I spent hours gaming with @PhantomKnight and @EmpressHollywood.
After they sign off, I follow suit and force myself to eat dinner. To shower. To meander around my house wondering how I’m going to face my family and team. What do I even say?
I left my lawyer a voicemail but ignored him when he called back. I’m not ready to give up. And the worst part is, it’s because I love her. I want Cami. I miss her so fucking much.
I’d rather fail at every other aspect of my life than give up on us. Not because I can’t admit defeat but because my life doesn’t make sense without her. I don’t care about proving a point as much as I want to just love on my wife.
My phone rings and I silence it when I note Hudson’s name.
A minute later, a text comes through.
Hudson: Pick up your phone.
Hudson: I’m not joking.
Hudson: I’ll keep calling.
Hudson: And texting.
Hudson: And?—
I dial him.
“I knew I’d get through eventually,” he answers.
“You’re annoying as fuck. I don’t know how Piper puts up with you.”
Hudson laughs. “Good. You’re making jokes.”
I sigh and take a seat on the couch. Leaning back, I stare at the ceiling.
“How are you, man?” Hudson asks.
“Terrible,” I admit, pathetically. “I miss her. I miss her so damn much and I fucking hate that I’m this gutted about something I knew from the start.”
“You didn’t know this from the jump. I saw Cami with you in Honey Harbor. She loves you, man.”
“Or she’s a fantastic actress,” I counter. I should ask Bailey.
“You can’t fake love,” Hudson disagrees.
“Then what went wrong?” I sit up, frustrated. “What the hell did I miss? Piper told me there was some chatter at the wedding, but I don’t think that would give Cami cold feet. And even if she had doubts, wouldn’t she talk to me?” I think back to our last night together. She was definitely upset.
God, I wish I pressed her to talk in the moment. Why did I put it off to the next day? The next day, she was gone, and I was fucking alone.
“Maybe she just had to work some things out,” Hudson says slowly. “She messaged Piper.”
I stand from the couch and begin to pace around my house. “She did? Why? What did she say?”
“That you haven’t listened to any of her messages.”
“How do you know that?”
“She told Piper if you had, you would have called her back by now.”
I swear colorfully. Hudson chuckles.
“Man,” he says, “give your girl a call. You two have to sit down and talk like adults. Like married people. The problem here isn’t that one of you doesn’t care. The issue is that you both care too much. Sit down, talk, listen, discuss. ‘Cause right now, you’re both hurting. And the only way forward is through it.”
“When the hell did you start doling out relationship advice?” I argue.
“I lost years of having Piper in my life because I was an idiot,” Hudson reminds me. “I learn from my mistakes, Leif. Do you?”
I curse at him. He laughs again.
“Marrying Cami wasn’t a mistake,” he says. “But not giving her your vows in ten days? That will be. Call your wife.” Then, he fucking hangs up.
I glare at the phone, feeling more agitated than before Hudson called. See? This is why I was ignoring everyone. It’s better that way. I’m too angry and depressed to have a rational conversation.
A knock sounds at the door and I glare at the ceiling, at the fucking powers that be. “Seriously?” I ask.
The doorbell rings.
Heaving out a sigh, I stride toward the door and rip it open, about to shoot down the unsuspecting canvasser or salesperson on the other side. Instead, my ire dies in my throat.
“Cami,” I mutter. “What are you doing here?”
She stands on the front porch, her body tight with tension. She rocks forward on her toes, then back on her heels. She’s biting her bottom lip, worried. She pushes her bangs out of her eyes and looks up at me with pure heartache in her expression.
She looks paler than I’ve ever seen her. Her eyes are rimmed red, and her face is bare. Beautiful but sad.
And fuck I don’t ever want to see her sad.
“I need to talk to you, Leif.” Even her voice sounds raw.
I can’t help myself. I’d rather feel gutted than see her in pain. I hate the remorse in her expression. Can’t stand the guilt in her tone.
I open my arms and she falls into them.
The second she’s enveloped in my embrace, I can breathe for the first time in days. I hold her close, feel her warmth, breathe in her scent, and know she’s it for me.
Whether she chooses me or not doesn’t matter; I’ll never love another woman the way I love Cami.
“Can I come in?” she whispers.
“Of course you can, Knox.” I step back so she can enter the house.
But fuck it’s going to kill me if she’s just here to pack up and go.
She walks to the kitchen island and places down an envelope.
I frown. Did Cami get her own divorce papers drawn up? Hell, is she here to fucking serve me?
“I saw Levi,” she says.
“I know,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. God, I hope she doesn’t tell me about him. I couldn’t fucking stand it.
“It was by chance. I ran into him at the Coffee Grid.”
“Sure,” I mutter.
“I’m serious, Leif.” She wrings her hands together.
I swear and grip the back of my neck. “All right,” I agree, wanting to believe her. She seems sincere about it.
“I got…closure,” she murmurs.
“Good for you.” I mean it, too. The last thing I want is for her to go through life hung up on a guy who broke her heart in college.
“And I talked to my brother,” she continues.
Great. I’m sure Rhett Coleman sang my praises. I walk closer to Cami, wondering where she’s going with this. What is her point?
“I spent the past few days thinking,” she says, pulling a paper out of the folder. She holds it up. “This is our marriage certificate. I took it from the bedroom.”
I read the words and nod my confirmation. It’s the same paper I had stored in my nightstand after I got home from Vegas.
Cami takes a deep breath and rips the contract in half.
I shuffle back, as if she pushed me.
Jesus, she’s done with me too. She just ripped up our marriage license. Like it was nothing but a sheet of paper. Like it doesn’t matter.
Like we don’t matter.
My gut twists and my hands clench. I pull in a breath, feeling my body begin to shut down as my mind tries to catch up.
Cami doesn’t want to wait for divorce papers.
She’s done.
I said I was done.
We’re just…over.