Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
TALLY
The scent hits me first when I open my door—penne with spicy vodka creme sauce wafting through my apartment. Then I see her. Willow. Standing in my kitchen wearing an apron. Thank god it's not one of mine, or I'd have to cut a bitch right here and now.
After spending the day at Sibley's office dredging up every painful memory about Mom, I'm already on edge.
And there they are—this perfect little domestic scene.
Willow stirring the sauce, Cameron chopping vegetables beside her, both with glasses of wine in front of them.
My mouth waters, not for the pasta, but for that cabernet.
Five more weeks. Five more weeks until Brinley hits six months and my pediatrician gives me the all-clear to stop breastfeeding.
Five more weeks of watching everyone else drink while I'm stuck sober.
The wine glasses gleam under my kitchen lights, mocking me.
Cameron looks at me and smiles. “Tal,” he says. “You’re home.”
“So observant,” I say, narrowing my eyes.
Then I shake my head. Dammit. I suddenly have the urge to throw his ass out of the house and set his clothes on fire like in that scene from Waiting to Exhale.
I close my eyes, seeing the fantasy of me pouring gasoline over his clothes, then lighting the match and walking casually away.
I lift Brinley from her walker. Her face lights up as she reaches for my nose, tiny fingers grasping.
I retreat to the bedroom, settling into the rocking chair with her warm weight against me.
I can't bear to watch Cameron and Willow playing house in my kitchen—a situation I created myself.
I have no grounds for this anger. Cameron was thoughtful, asking permission for Willow to meet Brinley here rather than somewhere impersonal.
I agreed readily, even enthusiastically.
But that was before I dug up all those buried feelings.
Now that I've unearthed them, every nerve ending seems exposed.
Cameron eases into the bedroom and perches on the edge of the bed. "Tally," he says softly. "Talk to me."
My vision blurs as tears well up. "I thought I could handle this, Cam, but I was wrong.
" My voice catches. "Your happiness matters to me—no, it's more than that.
I need you to be happy. But seeing you with Willow.
.." I inhale shakily. "You should move back to your home.
Except that makes no sense, right? You're all the way in Brentwood, I'm here, and shuttling Brinley between us would be a nightmare.
" Running my fingers through my hair, I whisper, "God, I'm such a mess right now. I'm sorry."
Brinley's wail pierces the silence. I yank up my shirt and she latches on with desperate hunger, her tiny fingers digging into my skin.
Her eyes flutter shut, milk-drunk, as I rake my fingers through her downy hair.
Thank God for those baby blues pills. Before them, I'd stare at her perfect face and feel.
..nothing. A void where maternal love should have been.
The pills Cam prescribed saved me—saved us both.
"Tally," he whispers, his voice raw. "I'll end it with Willow tonight. Just say the word."
I jerk my head. "No." My chest tightens.
"I refuse to be the reason you lose someone who might actually make you happy.
I'm drowning in enough guilt already." My hair falls into my eyes and I blow it away violently.
Brinley suckles harder, sensing my tension.
Cameron's eyes bore into mine—confusion, concern, something else I can't name.
The truth sits like acid in my throat. Today, Sibley held up a mirror to what I've been carrying since childhood—this twisted belief that somehow I caused my mother's spiral into addiction, that I'm the reason she was taken away again and again.
This poison has seeped into every relationship I've touched.
I can't ask him to leave Willow, not when I'm still wrestling my own demons. If he chose me now, he’d just become another thing I ruined before I was ready to be what he deserves.
Brinley stop suckling and starts crying, her diaper needing changing.
Cameron takes Brinley from me, his fingers brushing mine for a heartbeat too long.
"I'll handle this," he gently says, laying her on the changing table.
The muscles in his forearms flex as he works.
I collapse against the headboard, throat burning with unspoken words.
"Tally," he says, eyes locked on mine even as he expertly secures the fresh diaper. "What is really going on?"
"Nothing," I whisper, then louder: "Everything. I'm ripping myself apart trying to understand why I can't—" My voice breaks. "God, Cam, I told you to leave, but the truth is I'm terrified you might actually go. I need you here. Not just for her. For me." My hands tremble. "I can't do this alone."
Cam freezes, diaper wipes forgotten in his hand. "Christ, Tally. You're actually asking for help."
"Yeah." My laugh sounds like shattered glass. "Miracle of miracles."
I've cracked myself open for him to see the mess inside.
Maybe I'm not beyond saving after all.