Chapter 24 #2
“I can’t. Emily and I tried. For years actually. We thought it was her but when we had tests run, they found no reason why she wasn’t getting pregnant. Which means I was the problem.”
I am trying my best to process that but it just doesn’t add up. “So you…I mean you’re sure you…you can’t get a woman pregnant?”
“Nope,” he shakes his head with a bittersweet, tight smile.
“It’s why I’m over forty five and still single.
It’s why she left. It’s why I live in a three bedroom house all by myself and the paint is still factory gray.
It’s why there’s abstract art on the living room wall instead of family photos.
It’s why the spare rooms look staged for company instead of a mess with Hot Wheels and Barbies or K-Pop posters or whatever the hell kids are into these days. I…can’t have biological children.”
It still just doesn’t make sense. For one, he would be an amazing dad.
Although I suppose if anyone has reason to believe the universe has a twisted sense of humor, it’s probably me.
My life has been one pothole after the next with no smooth pavement in sight.
I only keep driving because I have to. For Noah.
“And you’re sure there wasn’t anything wrong with her? Making it harder, I mean?”
“Pretty sure I was the only problem. She has kids now.”
“Oh.”
“I can see what you’re thinking,” he says and my eyes widen.
“You’re wondering if I’ve done all the tests.
I have. You’re wondering if I’ve looked into my genetics.
I’ve done that too. In fact, I’ve done everything from supplements to shots to diet and exercise to testosterone, even though that was never the real issue. ”
“So what is the issue then?” I ask.
But Cameron just shrugs. “Don’t know. I’m a fucking doctor, Riley. And I…” his words snag in his throat and he runs his hand through his hair. “Don’t know.”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. Between him pouring his heart out and the thoughts I was having right before he spilled his guts like the emptying of a purse on the couch between us, I am lost too. Luckily, the oven timer goes off, disconnecting the conversation for now.
Cameron does a great job deflecting it all. He cuts the pizzas, then drizzles his with more buffalo and a little bit of ranch before picking a piece of the chicken off and popping it in his mouth. “Yes,” he moans. “So good.”
“Alright, I’ll admit it. It does smell good.” I say, carefully picking up a small slice of mine and taking a bite.
“Good?” he asks.
“So good,” I say and he grins, winking again. I really wish he’d stop doing that. Or never stop for all of eternity. One or the other.
After we’ve both got a slice of pizza under our belts, he grabs two more beers and I thank him, taking a sip. “Thank you. This is amazing. I don’t get a lot of breaks.
“Your friends seem great though,” he says.
“They are,” I nod. “The best. I don’t have family around so–”
“Not from here?” he asks.
“Oh they live here. They’re just…not involved.”
Cameron’s eyes narrow. “At all?”
“Nope. My parents saw my life turning out differently. They wanted me to go to school for something more…presentable. The whole event planning thing was too whimsical for them. Maybe they were right, who knows?”
“But it’s what you wanted. It’s what you love.”
“Passion doesn’t pay the bills,” I say.
“But money doesn’t fix everything,” he argues.
“The grass is greener,” I say and he points at me.
“Touché,” he says.
“When I got pregnant and they found out it was because of a…fling…they basically disowned me.”
“That’s so fucked,” he shakes his head.
“That’s life,” I shrug.
Then Cameron’s eyes zero in on me. “You deserve better.”
I smile. “So do you.”’
For a second we just stare at each other. Then he picks a piece of chicken off his pizza. “At least try it. One bite.”
I giggle and give in. “Fine. One bite.”
I lean in as Cameron pops the chicken into my mouth, his fingers brushing my lips as he does. I chew slowly and his eyes are glued on my lips. “Well?” he asks.
“Delicious,” I answer softly.
“Mm…” he murmurs. Then he gets up and rounds the table. My heart speeds up as he stops in front of me, cupping my face softly in his palms before kissing me. “Yeah…very delicious.”
I giggle again. “You didn’t even taste my pizza.”
“I meant you…” he says.
And for a second I can see it going further.
Our lips crashing together again. Him throwing the food off the table, lifting me onto it, ripping my leggings off and devouring something besides pizza.
But he doesn’t. He simply kisses me again, first on the mouth and then the forehead.
And honestly, I’m okay with it. I think I prefer this, actually.
The evening carries on much that way. We finish our food and each indulge one more beer, polishing off the sixpack he would have otherwise drank alone.
We sit on the couch and talk about everything except his divorce and Noah’s illness.
I learn that he is allergic to fabric softener and dogs but loves both.
I tell him that I am afraid of caterpillars but once had a pet snake because they’re very much not the same thing.
He laughs until he’s almost in tears when I tell him the story about how I never returned a Judy Bloom book to my elementary school library and I truly believed that they weren’t going to hand me my diploma on graduation day if I didn’t turn it in.
He tells me about how he used to go to music festivals in college and got caught in a mudslide while watching blink-182 and now he only goes to indoor shows because ‘his life flashed before his eyes’.
“I can’t see you listening to blink,” I tell him as I melt into his couch. It might be the beer. It might be me finally decompressing. It also might be that I don’t usually stay up this late.
“Are you kidding? Take Off Your Pants And Jacket was…epic,” he says animatedly and I giggle. “Seriously, best album of 2004.”
“I’ll just have to take your word for it,” I say.
“What were you listening to back then?” he asks and I squint my eyes in memory.
“2004…probably Britney Spears. But I wasn’t supposed to,” I say.
“What? Why not?”
“Are you kidding? She was so scandalous.”
Cameron laughs and I do too but it fades into a yawn. He smiles softly, his own eyes growing sleepy. “Do you want to stay the night?” he asks.
“I mean I probably can’t drive,” I admit.
“I can make up a spare room for you. Or…” he trails off.
“...or?”
“You can sleep with me.”
“I think I’ll go with door number two,” I say and he smiles.
We pad down the hallway to his bedroom which is plain like the rest of the house but a little more cozy.
His bedding is black and emerald green and there’s an acoustic guitar hanging on the wall.
There’s also a couple paintings that look authentic and while they don’t have a lot of color, they’re detailed.
“One of my patients years ago was an artist,” he explains as he hands me a t-shirt from his closet. “A girl named Sophia.”
“She’s so talented,” I say as I look closer at one of the canvases.
“Yeah. She was special.”
Was. Past tense.
I swallow hard and change into the t-shirt while he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth. We crawl into bed together and he turns off the lamp. The room goes dark other than the light of the moon from outside. In the distance is the glow of the city.
“The view is stunning,” I tell him.
“It’s alright,” he says.
“Just alright?” I ask.
“I mean I see it everyday.”
“Just because you see something every day doesn’t mean it’s not beautiful,” I tell him, still gazing out the window.
“It’s a city. Not a woman,” he says and I glance back at him. His face is nothing but moonlit shadow, defining his cheekbones and jawline. His eyes are crystally and bright and the flecks of gray are shimmering.
My stomach bottoms out. In this light…or lack there of…he looks familiar. Like the man from the rooftop…
“Come here,” he says, holding out an arm.
I blink a few times, wanting to unsee it before snuggling into him.
Within moments, his breathing becomes rhythmic and he is asleep.
Meanwhile, my heart is racing. He looks like him, from what I can remember anyways.
He also sounds like him. I slide my hand under his t-shirt and find the tattoo, running my finger tips softly along the raised outline. It feels like him.
But it can’t be.
Not after the conversation we had tonight. Cameron can’t be the man from the rooftop. He can’t be Noah’s father. Because Cameron can’t have kids. And yet…my gut is telling me differently.