Chapter 3 - Cam #2
Some, I still don’t want to have to.
Some, I’ve wanted to so badly that keeping them from her has been as excruciating as my rift with Drew.
Even one of the things I have to reveal will break her.
But all of it?
This is going to destroy her the same way it did Ivy.
She’s already worried. The crinkles around her eyes, the furrow of her brow, and the hard set of her mouth all beg for answers. But nothing I tell her is going to assuage her fears or ease her distress.
Far from it.
I take another sip of my coffee, wincing when it hits my stomach. “There are some things I need to tell you.”
Her head bobs slightly. “That’s what Ivy said, and given the fact that she was apparently here with you, it seems like there are a lot of things you haven’t told me.”
“There are.”
I nod.
Where do I even start?
It all spiraled out of control so hard, so fast. And I spiraled even harder and faster. Caught up in a hurricane of emotions I didn’t know what to do with. Drowning in self-loathing, obsession, and guilt that only made it that much harder to find something solid to cling to.
But ultimately, there’s only one place I can start to attempt to explain to this woman why I’ve lied to her, why I’ve abandoned her, why I’ve let myself become someone I don’t even want to look at in the mirror anymore because all I see is him.
I have to start at the beginning. “Your birthday party four years ago…”
Her brow furrows even deeper, her eyes narrowing. “What about it?”
Rubbing the nape of my neck, I avert my gaze. “I was there.”
She jerks back slightly. “You were? I never saw you. I thought you had a show and couldn’t—”
I hold out a hand and drop it onto hers, squeezing it tightly, examining how much smaller it is than mine, rather than having to look at her.
“I know. That’s what I told you and Drew.
I wanted it to be a surprise, but”—I release a little mirthless laugh, but all that does is make those knives stab into my temples—“I didn’t make it inside. ”
“Why not?”
Cautiously, I allow my gaze to meet hers again. “Because I met Ivy.”
Her eyes widen slightly. “What do you mean you met her?”
I clear my throat and pull my hand from hers, instead wrapping it around the mug.
And once again, I find myself unable to look at her, instead focusing on the black liquid I’m forcing myself to drink.
“She was out in the garden, under the willow, getting some air, I guess.” My throat tightens at the memory and how one single decision on my part caused such a catastrophic result for all of us. “She thought I was Drew…”
A moment passes before I hear her sharp inhale.
“Oh, God.” Mom’s hand comes to rest on my bare shoulder, and I can feel her trembling. “Cam, what did you do?”
And there it is…
The accusation in her tone, in her question, because this woman knows me too well, understands how often I let my heart lead instead of my head. How often I leap without looking. How often I fail to see the potential consequences of my actions…
And that’s exactly what I did that night.
I leaped, and I fell.
Fucking hard.
For a woman who could never be mine.
I squeeze my eyes closed. “Something that shouldn’t have happened.”
The details don’t matter.
And given the lack of them, Mom certainly knows it went way too far.
She makes a little choking noise in the back of her throat. “Drew figured it out…”
I nod, remembering that text he sent me, those five words.
“I know what you did.”
Even now, they send a shiver through me. Knowing what they led to, knowing what I caused is enough to make my chest tighten and my body scream for some relief from the pain.
Silence lingers between us for a few moments.
I force my eyes open and look at Mom to gauge her reaction.
She examines me like she’s seeing something she never has before.
And she is, in a way.
It’s been well over four years since we’ve seen each other in any way but a video call, and I know she sees how I’ve changed—not just physically, but the darkness that has clouded me for far too long.
She lifts a hand and rests it on my cheek. “What happened, Cam?”
I shake my head, her hand falling away. “I knew he’d never forgive me, and there was no reason he should, so I went back to London on the first flight out, tried to pretend none of it happened, but…”
“But what?” Her voice wavers, and I can already see her starting to crumble with the reality of what’s happened, of what’s been hidden from her for so long, of the lie Drew must have been telling her and Ivy.
“I couldn’t forget her, Mom.” My voice cracks, and I swallow through the emotions clogging my throat.
“And I couldn’t forget what I’d done to Drew and how I ruined our relationship forever.
” Staring into my coffee, I remember those days, months, years, and all the horrible things I did during them.
“I tried to drown myself in anything and everything to deal with the guilt and the…obsession…I had with her.” I swallow thickly. “Booze, women”—I meet her gaze—“drugs.”
She flinches as if I’ve slapped her. “No.” Her hands tighten into fists on the counter, and she shakes her head. “You didn’t…”
I nod, rubbing at the back of my neck where my skin suddenly itches with the memory. “What had been occasional recreational use turned into something else before I even realized it.”
Mom’s bottom lip trembles as she assesses me. “Your father was an alcoholic…”
My spine stiffens. “What?”
She gives me a sad smile. “You two were so young, and he was away training or on deployments so much that I was able to shelter you from the worst of it most of the time. I’m surprised you don’t remember something, though.”
Memories of my early childhood rush back.
Days spent on the beach with Dad.
Trips to Max’s for cheesesteaks.
Playing catch in the yard.
Swimming and splashing.
But a few others push their way to the forefront…
Dad “asleep” on the couch and being unable to wake him.
Mom telling us we had to get out of the house for a while because Dad needed some “alone” time.
And thinking about it now, with the benefit of my own experiences, I know what those mean, and it puts so many events of my childhood into a new light.
“I…I didn’t realize anything was wrong back then.”
She presses her lips together. “Your dad struggled with what he saw and did during his deployments. He didn’t know how to handle it in a healthy way.
” Her hands twist together in front of her.
“He was a good man and a great father, but he had demons, Cam.” She chokes back a sob.
“I had hoped you and your brother wouldn’t go down that same road, but—”
Her head shakes, and she lifts her hand to cover her mouth, unable to finish her statement.
“I had no idea.” I run a hand over my face, my temples still throbbing and my mind reeling with this new revelation.
“I don’t think knowing would have changed anything, Mom.
I spent years like that, moving through life like a zombie, looking for any way not to feel any of that anymore, but they were all I could think about.
And then you told me they had gotten engaged. ”
Her breath catches, as if she’s anticipating where this is going and can already see the crash before it happens.
“And I realized I couldn’t let her marry him without knowing…”
“Knowing what?”
I lift my shoulders and let them fall. “Knowing if it would have changed anything if she had known it was me that night. But I also realized what a fucking disaster I was; that I didn’t stand a chance at getting her if I went to her the way I was. So, I went to rehab.”
She places a hand over her heart, like it hurts badly enough that she physically needs to try to keep it together in her chest. “You were in rehab?”
I nod as the tears stream down her cheeks.
“And you never told me?”
A sob slips up my throat, remembering how alone I felt, how hard it was to go through all of that without Drew and her or really anyone to support me.
I shake my head, the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
“I couldn’t because then I would have had to tell you why and…
” I swallow back another sob. “I just couldn’t.
So…” I clear my throat. “When I got out, I knew I had to start wrapping things up in London. I found someone to run the gallery for me, made plans to ship everything back here, but then the invitation came.”
Her brow furrows. “What invitation?”
“To the wedding.”
Mom blinks rapidly, her eyes wide. “Drew invited you to the wedding after all that?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Ivy did. But I didn’t know that until last night, when I got this…”
I climb from the counter and walk over to the wall where the box sits on the floor. Mom was probably too worried about me to even give it a second glance when she got here last night.
What would she have thought if she had seen it?
My hand trembles as I reach in and pull out the doll. She sees me approach the counter with it, and more tears well in her eyes. Her hand covers her mouth again.
When she finally lowers it, her lips part on a surprised little huff. “He sent that to you?”
I nod.
She knows exactly what it meant to him, what it means to me, what it would have meant if I had received it. It could have changed everything between us.
“He sent it the same day Ivy sent me the invitation, but it didn’t get to me.
It…” I shake my head, staring at the doll in my hands that suddenly feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, carrying the weight of all my mistakes.
“It got lost or stuck in the mail, I guess. But I came back as soon as I got the invitation.”
Guilt skates across my skin about how I spent those six months.
Painting and obsessing over her.
Planning my approach and how I would win her from my brother and my best friend.
“I watched them, Mom. For a long time.” I look up at her from the doll.
“NA tells us to wait at least a year before diving into a relationship, and I knew I was still too unsteady to go to her. But seeing her again? All it did was make my longing even worse. She’s like a drug to me.
The worst fucking kind because I can’t go to rehab for it. ”
Mom purses her lips, examining me as I struggle to move forward in the story because the next part will tear her apart. “What happened, Cam?” She pulls my free hand into hers and squeezes. “Tell me.”
I set the doll on the counter, staring at it as the memories of that night bombard me like a horror movie playing on repeat.
“I called and told Drew I was in town, that I was going to tell her everything, that she deserved to know the truth. He showed up here, and we argued.” I glance at her, pulling from her hold, unable to accept any form of comfort or affection when the guilt eats me alive.
“It was really fucking bad, Mom. And we both said things we shouldn’t have, and he left.
” I swallow the sob that tries to climb up my throat.
“He drove off pissed and worried that he was going to lose her to me, and he ran that stop sign and—”
It’s her sob that cuts the silence.
And I finally let the tears fall.
She drops her head down, burying her face in her hands, and I let her cry.
Because the last thing she wants right now is for me to touch her or to comfort her, not when I’m the reason she lost him.
Each breath I try to take is more of a struggle the longer I watch her.
Her pain permeates the air, makes it heavy, impossible to draw into my lungs fully.
It takes a few agonizing moments before she finally lifts her head and looks at me with tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes. “Is that why you didn’t come to the funeral?”
“I couldn’t.” I choke on the words. “How could I when I was the reason he was dead? How could I—”
She climbs from her stool and steps up to me, only, instead of slapping me across the face like she would have every right to, she tugs me into her arms, wrapping them around me and holding me like she did when I was a child and skinned my knee.
And I let her.
I cry.
I finally cry the way I’ve wanted to.
My anguish pours out of me in waves so heavy I soak her shirt, burying my face against her shoulder. Now that she knows everything, it feels like a giant weight has both been lifted from my shoulders and has resettled on my heart because she’ll never be able to forgive me.
All of this is my fault.
Every last bit of it.
I don’t deserve forgiveness for this from her or Ivy.
And I won’t ever ask for it.
I’ll take this moment to fall apart, and then I’ll let her leave like I’m sure she wants to. But when she finally pulls away, she looks up at me not with hatred, but with so much love in her gaze that it steals my breath.
She swipes at her eyes, then wipes away my tears and takes a step back. “Go shower and get cleaned up.”
“What? Why?”
A long, heavy sigh falls from her lips, and she forces a tight smile. “Because I’m taking you to a meeting.”