Chapter 27
Cameron
“Noah is your son,” Riley states with her chin held high and her eyes like stone, locked on mine.
“What?” Stacey gives a small, curious laugh before looking back to me and then to Riley again.
“Cameron heard me. And so did you. Noah, my son, is his son. Biologically.”
“Mommy, I want to get ice cream now,” Ian says, tugging on Stacey’s sweater.
“Why don’t you take him inside?” I tell my sister. “I’ll be in after a minute.”
Stacey gives me a look– one that I can read through sibling telepathy. It says ‘I want the whole story later.’
I squeeze her hands before taking Riley by the arm and stepping around the corner. The moment we are alone, she rips from my grasp.
“Are you crazy?” I ask.
“No. I’m not.”
“Noah is not my son,” I tell her. “He can’t be. For one, I’ve only known you for a handful of weeks. And two, I can’t have kids.”
“Oh really? Then what was that back there? Because it looked to me like you’ve been lying.”
“That…?” I motion behind me. “Was my sister. Stacey. And my nephew Ian.”
“Your…sister. Stacey,” she echos.
“And my nephew, Ian,” I reiterate. “My ex has children but they are not mine.”
“Fine. But Noah is.”
“How do you figure?” I ask, thoroughly convinced I should take her to the hospital for a check up. Maybe a brain scan.
“We have met before, Cameron.”
“Before the day you graced my clinic in a slutty nurse costume?” I ask and her eyes turn to fire. I hold my hands up. “Sexy. Not slutty.”
“Yes. About five years ago actually.”
“Where?” I ask.
“The charity event for the hospital,” she answers.
“You were at that event?” I ask as my brain scrambles to put the pieces together.
“I planned that event. I was the coordinator. I was there with my ex. Well, not with him. I just went with him because everyone else had a date. I got drunk because I was depressed about my job and my love life or lack there of and I grabbed a glass of wine and went on the rooftop and…” she trails off for a moment. “You and I…”
I stare down at her and she stares back up at me.
“No,” I shake my head.
“What do you mean, no?” she asks. “I know it was you. I saw your tattoo. I felt it.”
“No.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” she snaps.
“I am saying that whoever you think I am, I’m not.
Because I can’t be. Because I can’t have children, Riley,” I say right in her face, anger and hurt pulsing through me at the smear of accusations.
“I don’t know who you are remembering but it wasn’t me.
Because I am not a dad and I never will be a dad and I’m done talking about it. ”
I turn away, realizing that I might be a little over the top right now. But I can’t do this. She can’t just waltz over to me claiming I am the father of her child. Because it’s crazy. And impossible.
“You don’t believe me,” she says with a shaky anger in her voice after a long moment.
“I don’t,” I answer.
Her lip quivers as she stares at me, her eyes red with tears and anger. “You think I’m making all of this up.” It comes out as a statement, not a question.
“I think…your memory is wrong. That’s all.”
“You think I don’t remember whether or not I got drunk and fucked someone on a rooftop in a moment of weakness?” she spits out.
“I think…it was a costume party. And you have me mixed up with someone else.”
Riley bites her lips and turns away. “Unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear,” I say and she whips back around.
“What I want to hear is you owning up to it. The truth!”
My jaw clenches and unclenches as I look at her. As she falls apart. I hate seeing her like this. But what she doesn’t know is that my heart is a mess in my chest. It’s beating, pounding against my ribcage with every tear that slips from her stubborn glare.
“He’s not my son,” I finally say.
Two more tears fall.
Two more heartbeats threaten to break my ribcage.
Riley starts to leave. But then she turns back once more. “I want proof.”
“I’m sorry?” I ask.
“A paternity test.”
“You have to be joking. I already told you. He’s not mine. He can’t be. It’s not possible.”
“Then the test will come back negative and you have nothing to worry about.”
“You can’t be serious,” I say, raking my hand through my hair.
“Oh, but I am. Sign off on a paternity test, or I won’t sign the papers.”
“You…you can’t do that. That’s blackmail,” I snap.
And for the first time, there’s a hint of a smile on her face. But it’s not a happy one.
“This whole thing is blackmail, Cameron.”
After Riley is gone, I make my way inside the ice cream shop and find my sister and nephew. They’re sitting at a small table in the corner and I join them.
“Uncle Cameron!” Ian smiles pushing a bowl of ice cream my way. “We got you peanut butter fudge ripple. Your favorite.”
“Yeah, Cam, your favorite,” Stacey says, her eyes dissecting my expression. Then she turns to Ian. “Baby, why don’t you go color on the chalk wall and let me and Uncle Cameron talk for a minute.”
Ian eats the last of his vanilla sprinkle cone and scampers off, leaving me and my skeptical sister alone.
“What…the hell…was that about?” she asks with an amused smile. She would make a joke out of this. I am obviously not smiling.
“She thinks…she’s claiming…”
“That you are Noah’s father,” she says and I nod. I’m not hungry. I could really go for a shot of whiskey right now. But seeing as how peanut butter fudge ripple ice cream is the only thing in front of me, it’ll have to do. I take a bite before answering her.
“Yeah. So just say what we both know what you’re going to say. Let’s get it over with.”
“What is it you’re so sure I am going to say?” she asks, toying with me.
“That you told me so. Obviously.”
Stacey chews her lip and shakes her head a little. “I said I that I thought Riley might use you to get pregnant. Or that she might use you for money. I never said that she was going to accuse you of being Noah’s father. That is a curve ball, for sure.”
“It’s not possible!” I snap, then lower my voice and take another spiteful bite of the world’s best ice cream.
“Does she know that?” she asks.
“Yes. I’ve told her. That’s why her accusation is out of place. And now, she has the audacity to demand a paternity test.”
Stacey stops for a moment, trying to connect the dots. “So why is it that she thinks you are the father of her child exactly? Have you guys met before?”
I chew a chunk of frozen peanut butter for a moment, deciding how I want to answer that.
“Maybe…”
Stacey leans in, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “What do you mean, maybe?”
“I mean five and a half years ago or so I was at a stupid charity party.”
“Oh my god, the one where you lost a bet with Trevyn and had to dress up like Santa Clause?” she laughs.
“Yeah. That one. Well. I may or may not have gotten drunk because that was right after–”
“Dad was diagnosed,” she finishes the sentence so I don’t have to.
“Anyways. I wasn’t in the mood to mingle so I went up on the hotel rooftop and she was there alone. The door closed behind me and I didn’t realize it was going to lock. We were cold. We were tipsy. And one thing lead to another…”
“On a rooftop? Jesus, Cam.”
“Dad was dying. Josh and I were at each other’s throats. And she was beautiful. She is beautiful.”
“Did you know it was her? I mean when you met her a couple weeks ago?” she asks and I shake my head.
“Not at first. She looked familiar but no. Or maybe…I blocked it out because it seemed crazy.”
“Crazier than Noah being your son?”
“No. He can’t be my son. Stacey, I cannot have children. Not of my own. You know this. Science doesn’t lie,” I say as I shove my empty bowl aside.
“It’s not always proven though, either.”
“Whose side are you on?” I ask, glaring at her.
And my sister shoots a look back. She’s the youngest of the three of us but sometimes I think she’s the most wirey. “Right now? Noah’s. Get the test, Cam. It’s not going to hurt anything.”
Her words replay in my head on repeat as I drive home.
It’s not going to hurt anything…
That’s where my sister is wrong.
If I get that test…and it comes back negative, it will hurt.
It will hurt because I care about Noah.
care about him like he is my own.
And if he’s not…if that test tells me what science already reminds me of every day, it will do more than hurt.
It will break me.