34. Amie
thirty-four
Amie
“ Y ou’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers. We’re lying in bed facing each other, finally sated and clean after three of the most intense orgasms of my entire life. His plaid pyjama pants are low on his hips and his bare chest emanates heat I can feel through my thin pyjamas.
He’s looking at me with stars in his eyes again, like he can’t believe I’m really here. He looks like he’s awestruck, and I shiver beneath the intensity his gaze. He looks like he might love me, and that thought sends a raging storm through my veins and deep into my belly. He reaches up a hand and traces my cheekbone with a gentle finger.
“I don’t know what we’re doing,” I whisper. “I don’t know—I don’t know what this is.”
“Me either,” he admits. “But you feel it, don’t you? Amie, tell me you feel this. Tell me you want this.” His voice drops to a whisper, pleading. His eyes are wide.
I nod. Oh god, do I feel it. I’ve never felt anything like it. From the way I was drawn to him in Singapore like a moth to a flame, to the way he managed to find me again in Santiago, and the way we’ve talked about everything and nothing on the phone every single night since. The way he loves Maisy. The way he treats us both like precious treasure. The way he sees me for me. The way he always has done.
“There was something in Singapore, something brought us together and—well, now we have Maisy. And I think—” I stop, unsure of how to say how I feel. I don’t even know what I feel.
I do know what I feel, and it’s big. It’s too big for me to manage, it’s too big to comprehend. It’s bigger even than Maisy. Loving Maisy was never in question. It was never a choice. It was bigger than me, greater than the sun and wilder than the ocean. It was natural. It was obvious. But what I feel for Cam has no beginning, no end, no bounds. Like Maisy, loving Cam is an inevitability; bound by the universe and meant to be. It both hurts and heals, knocks me down and picks me up. It shines like the stars and it burns like flames. It’s so big I can’t even see beyond it. It engulfs me. It just— is .
“There’s always been something between us. There’s something here and I don’t want to run from it anymore, Cam. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this. I’m tired of running.”
He sighs, a big release of tension from his chest and shoulders.
“I think it’s always been you, Amie.”
He kisses me deeply and it’s the sweetest, most gentle and reverent kiss I’ve ever experienced. It’s like being kissed for the first time. It’s the moment in a movie where a choir of angels would start to sing. His tongue is probing and explorative; he gives without taking a thing in return. When we break for air, he drops soft kisses to each cheekbone and my hairline, then pulls me close to rest my head against his chest. He wraps me in his arms like I’m the most precious thing in the world and he can’t bear to be even an inch away from me.
I could get used to being held by Camden Whitehouse .
Round four—or is it five?—happens when we wake in the morning, still wrapped up together. All we’ve done before, our nights spent together, every time he’s been inside me up to now, has been fucking, but this… this is slow, lazy, tender; something more akin to lovemaking than the feral fucking we’ve done before. After we come, he cleans me with a warm washcloth and kisses me gently, brushing the curls out of my face.
“I’m crazy about you, Amie,” he whispers. His eyes lock with mine and I see the world reflected in them. The dazzling green holds that first night in Singapore, the morning in Santiago, and every day since, and they shine with a thousand promises for the future. I sigh, unbidden tears leaking from my eyes. He catches one with a fingertip.
“I never stopped thinking about you. I think maybe it’s always been you for me, too,” I whisper. He smiles then, the most magnificent, beaming smile through watery eyes, and he leans down to kiss me hard, soft and tender but firm, full of the promise of a lifetime.
“Don’t get too comfortable,” I warn when he finally breaks the kiss. “We’re in New York, it’s almost Christmas and there’s a little girl at home who needs to be thoroughly spoiled.”
He throws off the sheets and swings his legs out of bed, patting me on the thigh to encourage me to do the same. We shower—separately, otherwise we’d never leave the room—and dress, then head out to make the most of the day and run up our credit card bills on Maisy’s Christmas gifts.
We return to the hotel room thoroughly shopped out, exhausted, laden with bags but happy—maybe happier than I’ve ever been. As I dress for the flight home, I catch sight of myself in the mirror, a fresh kiss-bruise on my collarbone, an uncontrollable smile, and a lightness to my expression that I haven’t seen for a long time.
The flight home is blessedly short, thanks to eastbound jet streams and a strong tail wind. We land in the early hours and exit the terminal building to the first whispers of a stunning winter sunrise, painting the horizon a brilliant tangerine.
“Let’s go home,” he says, pulling me into his side and kissing the top of my head. Since our conversation in New York—since we all but said the three words on the tip of my tongue—he’s done that a lot, and every time, it sends a zing between my legs and a warm, fuzzy feeling to my chest at the same time. We ride the staff shuttle back to my car, and I drive us home.
Unlike the last time, the silence that surrounds us on this car ride is a comfortable one. It doesn’t shock me that I’m so comfortable just existing with Cam. Something about him drew me in on that muggy night four years ago, and with or without Maisy, something about him has kept me hanging onto every word he said, every day since.
When I park in the driveway, he takes my hand and turns to me.
“You know I’m crazy about you, right? I’m fucking crazy for you, Amie.” He shakes his head with a rueful laugh. “I’m so damn gone for you, it—it terrifies me.”
He leans in to kiss my lips softly and then swings his legs out of the car.
As I unlock the door, I hear small feet thundering towards it on the other side, and as I push into the house with Cam close behind me, my little girl shrieks with delight.
“DADDY! ”
Roger is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as Maisy rushes past me, colliding with Cam’s legs before he sweeps her into his arms and holds her close.
“Surprise, Maisy Girl,” he says into her hair. “I missed you so much.”
Maisy pats his cheeks, laughing delightedly as he presses loud kisses to her face. I drag our bags into the hallway and pull the door closed with a click, whilst Cam carries Maisy into the living room and sits with her in his lap. She chatters excitedly, telling him about her morning and the Cheerios she ate for breakfast while I search for my best friend.
I find Ruth in my kitchen, waving at me with her fingers whilst holding her phone to her ear. Her laptop is set up on the kitchen table beside a little craft station where it looks like she and Maisy have been scrapbooking.
After a moment, she rolls her eyes, says goodbye into the phone and drops it unceremoniously on the table, before rounding the furniture and hugging me tight.
“Ugh, I’ve missed you, sweet thing,” she says. “Maisy has been great. Work sucks. That man of yours is fucking divine, by the way—how was New York?”
She pre-empts all of my questions and I laugh, reaching around her to switch on the kettle. We work in tandem, preparing two cups with coffee, and then she begins to pack up her laptop.
“New York was…” I trail off. Ruth is my best friend, but New York feels like a dream and I’m not sure if I’m ready to return to reality. “It was good.”
Her brown eyes search mine.
“Okay, fine,” I admit. “It was more than good. ”
Ruth lets out a whispered screech, hands flapping towards me in excitement.
“Did you—”
“Yes,” I interrupt. “I did. We did.” Her eyes widen with a silent question. “Fuck, Roo, I’m—he’s incredible.”
“He looks it,” she agrees. “He looks like he’d absolutely destroy your cunt and you’d still beg for more.”
“He does,” I confirm slyly, pouring hot water and then milk into both coffee cups. “Repeatedly.”
“Amie!”
“What?” I ask.
“Jesus Christ, it’s not even eleven. You can’t give me that kind of detail while I’m working. Call Lo and Katy, let’s have a girls’ night tomorrow before you leave for Christmas. Leave Big Dick Cam with Maisy.”
“Please don’t talk about his dick in relation to my daughter,” I beg, laughing.
“A, Baby Cakes, you know that’s how you got Maisy in the first place, right?” Ruth winks as she shoves the last of her belongings into her work tote and swings it up onto her shoulder, then picks up her duffel bag from under the table. We move towards the front door.
“I do know, I was there,” I answer drily, laughing. “I’ll give them a call. I’m pretty sure Katy’s off tomorrow.”
“Great. Come over, bring wine. Any time after seven.” She slips out of the door and closes it with a quiet click.
The following night, I press the buzzer at the door of Ruth’s apartment building just as Paloma sidles up beside me, wrapped tightly in a wool pea coat. A thick scarf is wound around her neck, a fuzzy beret sits at a jaunty angle over her red hair and gloved hands clutch a bottle of our favourite Sauvignon Blanc as she hugs herself, teeth chattering against the cold.
“Let us in, Roo,” she yells into the intercom. “It’s fucking freezing!”
The door unlocks with a click and we let ourselves in, climbing the four flights of stairs to Roo’s apartment. She may only be on the fourth floor of the small tower block but the views from her large windows are still spectacular, and her blinds are still open, treating us to a panoramic view of London by night.
An old Taylor Swift album is playing from the vinyl player in the corner when we walk in and Katy is already in the kitchen, chopping vegetables and tossing them into a frying pan.
“I fancied margaritas so I brought stuff for tacos, I hope that’s okay.” She waves hello with the knife in her hand.
Ruth appears from her bedroom then, kissing us both hello and making a dramatic show of carrying all of Paloma’s outdoor clothing to the cupboard that doubles as her coat closet.
“So, Amie had a fun trip to New York,” Ruth says with a sly grin as we balance plates of tacos on our laps. She has a perfectly good breakfast bar but we chose to lounge on her huge sectional sofa instead, enjoying the twinkling lights outside the windows.
Katy and Lo perk up, looking to me with matching eager grins .
“For fuck’s sake, Roo,” I whine, swallowing a mouthful of onion and pepper. “Can you at least let me stuff my face with a taco first?”
She laughs and then swallows a large mouthful of her second margarita.
“No, because then you’d wuss out and you wouldn’t tell K and Lo how Cam stuffed your face with his dick.”
“He did WHAT?”
“Excuse the fuck out of you.”
Katy and Paloma speak over each other, eyes wide, demanding more of the story. Ruth grins innocently, bringing her drink back to her lips and sipping again.
“We… had sex,” I say carefully. These girls know everything— everything —about my life. Telling them was the first thing I did when I lost my virginity. Katy was the one I called after my night with Cam in Singapore. They’ve been there through everything. “Four—no, five times. No, six, if you count him fingering me in the car park at work before I drove home.”
“Fucking hell.” Katy throws back half of her drink in one gulp. “And what, are you a thing now? Are you just fucking him?”
I lock eyes with her. Katy-cat, my best friend. Although Ruth and Paloma are my best friends, I’ve always been closest to Katy. We’ve had each other’s backs for decades. She’s my ride or die, and she knows me better than absolutely anyone in the world. The concern in her gaze breaks me.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. Katy’s expression softens. Paloma puts down the taco she’s been holding aloft since Roo announced my sexcapades and shuffles around the corner of the sofa towards me.
“What do you want?” She looks me in the eye .
“I want—” I gulp. I reach for my drink, then set it down again. “I want him.”
Katy puts a hand on my shoulder and Paloma leans in, resting her head on my other side. Ruth kneels in front of me, one hand on my knee.
“The way he looked at you yesterday, I’d say you’ve already got him,” Roo says quietly.
“I’ll drink to that.” Katy raises her margarita and drains the glass. “He looked at you like the sun shone out of your arse, even back in October when he first came over and met Maisy.”
I huff out a laugh, smiling even as I sniffle back tears.
“I think I’ve always loved him,” I admit to the safety of my best friends. “I’ve thought about him every single day for almost four years and I think I’ve just loved him forever.”
No one knows what to say, but they push our plates of half-eaten food aside and pile on top of me, hugging me tight until my tears subside.
“Enough of this,” I say, fighting my way through a tangle of my best friends’ limbs. “I want to finish that taco and then I’m gonna need another margarita.”
Paloma laughs first, then Ruth, then Katy, and then we’re all queueing at the microwave to reheat our food while we replenish our drinks.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I say, after we’ve finished eating. I reach for my bag. “I have some souvenirs for you!”
Ever since I started flying, I’ve brought back souvenirs for all three girls from every trip to a new place. Katy has a fridge magnet, Paloma gets a shot glass and Ruth gets pens from all over the world. Katy and Paloma already had their collections underway before I began to contribute, but, not knowing what to get for Ruth—who works in a legal office for a massive global company—I picked up a pen from Los Angeles one day. And so begun the tradition.
I pull a small pouch from my bag and dole out the new gifts from Calgary, Bangalore and Durban, three of the airline’s newest destinations. The girls pass them around, oohing and aahing over them.
After another few hours of talking about absolutely everything, I finally stand and stretch my arms above my head.
“I need to get home, ladies,” I say with a yawn. “There’s a man waiting for me in my bed, after all.”
Roo jumps up and leads me to the cupboard where my coat and shoes have been stashed, while Paloma and Katy whistle and catcall from the sofa.
“Go get him, sweet thing,” she whispers as she hugs me tightly at the door.
Back at home, I heft Maisy’s carry-on bag into my arms and into my bedroom, setting it down in the corner. Then I open the zip and stand with my hands on my hips, surveying the scene. I should’ve known better than to let Maisy pack the bag herself, regardless of my intention to go through it before leaving for Phoenix. Cam sidles up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing the side of my neck and I sigh, tipping my head to ease his access.
“Mmmm,” I hum. “That’s nice.”
He sucks and then kisses at my throat one more time, then points at the bag on the ground in front of us.
“What’s this?”
“Maisy wanted to show you all her new favourite things,” I explain. “So she packed them in here to bring out for Christmas. Except, since you’re here, she can show you now and we can pack more sensible items.” I squat down to the bag and pull out a yellow rain boot with dinosaur spikes down the back of the ankle. Its mate is nowhere to be found.
Cam laughs and shakes his head.
“That girl,” he says, a tender look in his eyes as he looks toward the wall that separates her bedroom from mine, the little girl in question asleep on the other side of it. “She really is somethin’ else.”
I empty the bag and leave everything in a pile, before re-packing it with the sweater, colouring books, crayons and planes Maisy and I had agreed on. We had to compromise on how many planes would go in the bag, but we eventually came to an agreement, and I’d collected them before spending the evening with Ruth and the girls.
I add a few extra items: some spare underwear and socks, a travel blanket that folds into a pillow, and Maisy’s games tablet and headphones, then zip it closed. The rest of her clothes will share my suitcase, and Cam has brought a bag with plenty of empty space for her Christmas presents, which he packed up whilst I was out.
“I was thinking,” he says, pulling me into his arms again and kissing my hair as he walks us back towards my bed. I hum in response, my entire body alive and alight with his touch.
“I was looking for an Airbnb but I wanted to talk to you first,” he continues. He kisses my hair again and I pull back, too distracted by his lips to focus on his words. “It’s a little way out of the city, but it’s the only one available this close to Christmas.”
“Why?” I ask. “You have a perfectly good apartment.”
“I have a tiny studio.” He kisses me on the lips this time. “And I can’t screw your brains out with our daughter sleeping in the same room.”
I crush my body to his and bring his face down, our lips colliding in a hard kiss.
“Sure you can.” I break the kiss, breathing heavily. “You’ll just have to do it quietly.”
I kiss him again. And again. And then a few more times before sunrise.