Chapter Twenty-Two West #2
Exhausted from the emotions and stress the evening brought on, it’s all I can do to return to my room and get ready for bed in a fog.
I don’t anticipate hearing from Cammie again tonight, after she gave me the go-ahead to leave her with her mom and Luca.
But I send a text to let her know I love her, and I’m in my room if she needs anything.
I only hope, with a little rest, I’ll feel more capable of whatever she needs.
A very little rest, as it turns out. Some time later, I wake to a knock at my door. The sky is still as dark as it gets out my window, and I’m groggy enough that it couldn’t be anywhere near morning yet. I stumble across my dark room to see who it is.
I’m more than a little surprised to find Cammie on the other side, giving me a small, watery smile. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face cleaned of makeup, her hair transformed from its fancy updo to a simple braid, the pretty dress traded for pajamas. She’s still so beautiful, my chest aches from it.
“Hi,” she whispers. “I don’t need to talk it out or cry on you or whatever. I just…I don’t want to be alone right now. I mean, not just that, I want to be with you. Sleep next to you. Can I…?”
Realizing I’ve just been staring at her, in some sleepy state between dumbfounded and lovestruck, I step back to welcome her in. “Of course. That sounds perfect.”
And for the rest of the night, it is. I fall back into a deep, dreamless sleep with Cammie tucked up against me, my arms wrapped around her, breathing in the scent of her apple shampoo for blissful hours.
If only I hadn’t set an alarm.
“I’ll get it,” I hear Cammie murmur, still half asleep myself. A few seconds later, the irritating jingle goes silent.
A few seconds after that, enough that I’ve begun falling back into a deeper sleep, Cammie’s voice comes out louder and more alert. “West?”
“Hmm,” I sleep-speak.
The mattress depresses beside me and Cammie repeats, not as a question this time, “West.”
“What?” I blink a few times, try scooting into a sitting position. When my eyes can focus on anything, I see hurt clear on Cammie’s face. “What is it, Cam?”
She holds up my phone, but it still doesn’t click for me. “When I turned off your alarm, your email notifications were on the screen. I wasn’t trying to snoop, but I saw—there was, uh, something from that Germany program. About your housing assignment. So…you’re officially going?”
Understanding crashes into me, nearly knocking me horizontal again. I scrub at my face with a hand, hoping this isn’t the beginning of the extreme fuck-up I fear it might be. “Oh, yeah, I, uh…I did make that decision. Just yesterday, officially.”
The hurt in her expression becomes more upset. With me, to be specific. “Were you going to tell me?”
I shake my head, thinking I’d give anything to snap my fingers and have a caffeine source on hand right now. “Of course. I was, sometime soon. I didn’t think you’d be so upset—we talked about doing long-distance already, right?”
“Yeah, and you never even casually mentioned there was still a good chance that distance would be a whole ocean’s worth.
Were you planning to drop the news, then bounce the next day, just like three years ago?
” She lets my phone drop to the bed as she stands.
Her words are as effective as a gut punch.
I know her emotions are high from everything else going on, but it doesn’t make her wrong about this—that I should have been more open with her, and that she deserves better.
That I’m already repeating past mistakes, when I’d been so sure I’d get it right this time.
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Cammie. I know I should have told you sooner that I was leaning toward going, but I…
I think I worried that you wouldn’t want to take that chance on me.
To be the girlfriend of a guy who’s about to live thousands of miles away and might be kind of an anxious mess the whole time, especially with everything else you have going on in your life.
I wouldn’t blame you if this was too much. ”
She scoffs, and the hurt in her eyes before she turns and stalks toward the door makes a permanent imprint on my memory. As do the words she hurls my way before she walks out.
“If that’s what you really think of me, then maybe you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t take the chance.”
My divorced parents are talking about me again.
I can immediately tell when my dad finds me in the library, quite literally wallowing on the floor. I didn’t know he even knew where the library was, only that Pops had to be the one who sent him looking.
I wonder how long it took Pops to call Dad after hanging up with me.
I didn’t think I gave off an especially concerning vibe—I didn’t cry or even tell him much about my current emotional state or romantic situation.
But I guess discussing the logistics of flying back home early—as early as today, perhaps—was enough of a red flag on its own.
“Hey there, Westie,” Dad says casually, strolling into the room and settling in on the couch like he hasn’t a care in the world. Like everything about the past twenty-four hours and especially the present moment is just business as usual. “Heard you were looking at plane tickets.”
I close my eyes, adding to the whole corpse-in-a-library-in-a-period-drama role I’m playing. But I know I won’t get away with silence, so I reply, “Might’ve been.”
Dad clears his throat. “Also heard you might’ve asked your pops for access to his airline miles so you could book one.”
Sighing, I open my eyes again and peer over at his relaxed pose. Still just shooting the breeze.
“Can you get to what you really want to ask me?”
To my surprise, Dad smiles. Then he kneels next to me on the floor, finally lying down so we’re side by side, both looking up at the ceiling.