Chapter 6
six
Cameron
It’s just about five o’clock on Monday, and I’m ready for this day to be over. I can tell I’m getting antsy because my focus is shit and I keep glancing out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that make up the front of our office.
My partner Tom and I were lucky enough to score a small office on Main Street when we started our accounting firm seven years ago.
Everyone in Winhaven comes down Main Street, making our location ideal for our current clients and giving us good visibility for new potential clients who have recently moved to town.
The exposed brick walls insulate the office, blocking out the noise from outside, but the windows give us a great view of the bustling activity.
When we first moved into this office, Tom and I questioned whether it was the right decision, given how often we got distracted by the activity outside.
But it didn’t take long for us to get used to it, and now I barely notice the hustle and bustle happening on the other side of the glass.
However, today I’m anxious to get off work and meet up with my girl for ice cream.
Addison’s been with her grandparents in nearby Carlsburg all weekend, and I’ve missed her terribly.
Being a dad is the most rewarding thing about my life, but being a single dad is as tough as it sounds.
Showing up for Addie as both her mom and dad is taxing, and I’m always appreciative of the reprieve.
But, inevitably, by the end of the weekend, I’m always ready for her to be home.
I miss her incessant talking and her frequent giggles while she makes fun of everything I do. The house is far too quiet when she’s gone and I’m ready for the boisterous fun she brings into my life to be back.
A throat clears from beside me, and I look up to see Tom with a sour look on his face.
“Is it just me, or has this been the most Monday of Mondays?”
Tom has never been the beacon of positivity between the two of us. That title falls to me. Julianne used to laugh and say he’s the grumpy to my sunshine—whatever that means. Often gruff and unapologetically real, I can always count on Tom to tell it like it is.
“You’re not wrong, man. You’re not wrong, but what’s up? Your face has looked like that all afternoon,” I say in a teasing tone while waving my hand in the general direction of his face.
If possible, Tom’s face turns even more sour, although I can see him fighting a smile as the corners of his mouth threaten to turn up. But just as quickly it returns to a scowl.
“It’s this damn Briarwood account. I’ve been working on their numbers all day, and now, instead of sending them electronically as we do with everyone else, Mr. Faegan wants me to hand deliver them in case he has any urgent questions.”
I wince. Mr. Faegan has always been old-school like that. No matter how many times we’ve tried to push him into the twenty-first century with electronic correspondence, he always pushes for in-person meetings. Still, he’s one of our larger accounts, so we typically accommodate his needs.
“He said he’ll be up at the Equine Center with one of his studs tomorrow, and I can just ‘drop by’ then,” Tom continues, using air quotes around “drop by,” both of us knowing it’s not going to be just a quick drop off.
It’s going to be a long, exasperating conversation where he blows smoke up our ass and inflates his own ego by going over the numbers we put together. It’s always a good time.
Tom looks so put out by this potential meeting, I worry how well his people skills will actually people if he delivers the paperwork himself, so I make the sacrifice.
“I’ll do it.”
Tom’s face immediately relaxes and I know I’ve made the right decision. This is why we’re partners, after all. I knew going into this partnership that a majority of the personal relations would fall on my shoulders.
Tom and I met when I was fresh out of school, and he was working at a larger firm in Louisville, where I was a paid intern. We connected over our hometowns that were surprisingly close together, as he’s from the neighboring town of Lathamsville.
Seeing as he’s not the most personable, it seems almost shocking now that we struck up an odd kind of friendship and became partners after I turned down the permanent position his firm offered me at the end of my internship.
We both wanted to be back home near our families, rather than live in a larger city and compete with the big guns.
We were lucky because our naive asses thought it would be as simple as having an office and some credentials behind our name. Boy, were we wrong.
Backed by our parents, who were just excited to have their boys closer to home, we were able to purchase the small office we have now, even as we struggled to get clients that first year.
We were two relatively young dudes, one without an ounce of people skills and the other a golden retriever of a go-getter, trying to stake our claim on a new town. Let’s just say the hesitance was warranted.
But we stuck with it and slowly gained clientele and now we have several major accounts in the area, including a few of the major racehorse and breeding farms.
As the clock finally ticks to five, Tom and I gather our things, both of us ready to head out after a long day. I chuckle to myself as Tom doesn’t even pause in the pursuit of his waiting car while I lock the door to our office.
When the lock clicks into place, I look over my shoulder at his retreating form.
“Later, man. See you tomorrow.”
“See ya, have a great ice cream date with Addie,” he says before climbing into his car.
I smile to myself, not at all surprised by his response. Tom has always had a soft spot for Addie, and under all that gruffness there’s a kind soul. You just have to dig deep to find it.
I head south on Main Street toward our local ice cream joint, Scoops, ready to see my girl.
Thankfully, it’s only a couple blocks down the road, just past a small pet shop and the home goods store.
As I get closer, I see a little girl in denim overalls over a hot pink shirt, and two dark French braids, courtesy of her grandma, jumping up and down and waving at me.
She’s standing impatiently under a large sign depicting a double scoop of chocolate ice cream piled high with whipped cream and a single cherry; so, when I get within twenty feet of her and she takes off running, I’m not surprised.
Catching her before she bowls me over, I hoist her in my arms and pepper kisses on her cheeks. Her sweet giggle is everything I’ve been missing over the past couple of days, and I’m grateful she doesn’t feel too old for this public display of affection just yet.
I hold her tight. “Oooh, I missed you so much! Did you miss me?”
“I did, Daddy, so much!” she says, planting a kiss on my cheek before I set her down and grab her hand as we walk back to where my parents are waiting by the door, big smiles on their faces.
I reach for my dad first, pulling him in for a quick hug. He still feels as big and broad as he did when I was a kid, but his hair is a salt and pepper color, and his green eyes, permanently etched with laugh lines, still hold a twinkle of youth.
He slaps my back. “Hey, son, how was the office?”
“Long, but my day just got infinitely better.”
I turn to greet my mom; her light brown hair is cut short, allowing every ounce of radiant joy to leap from her features at the sight of me. She reaches for my cheeks, pulling me down to her before placing a kiss on my forehead.
Unlike Addison, I feel a bit more self-conscious about this level of public affection, seeing as I’m a grown man and my very petite mother has just pulled my face down to her lips.
But I’ve become more accustomed to it over the past several years after what happened with Julianne, and I’m a lot more willing to give my parents these moments.
I pat her hands on the sides of my face, prompting her to let go before I pull her into my side, giving her a gentle squeeze, and look down at an excited Addie by her side.
“You ready for some ice cream?”
“Yeah!” she shouts, pulling my mom and me by the hands through the door of Scoops as my dad holds it open.
When we make our way to the front of the line, Addison takes her time perusing all the flavors available, and I thank my lucky stars there’s no one waiting in line.
I hear my dad’s deep chuckle behind me.
“Karma,” my mom coos from beside him, and I shoot back a scathing glare that holds no malice, especially when I quickly stick my tongue out at her.
Finally, Addie settles on the same flavor she always gets, Bubble Gum, and just like always, I try not to vomit in my mouth.
There is nothing more disgusting than ice cream that not only tastes like Chiclets, that saccharine sweet gum my grandma used to keep in her purse, but it also has disintegrating pieces of what kind of resembles the same gum mixed within.
After I choke back the taste of bile, I order a simple chocolate sundae for both my dad and myself, and a vanilla cone for my mom. Addie must get her wild tastes from Julianne because my side of the family is as simple as it gets when it comes to our ice cream.
Finding a table near the big open windows Addie assures me will keep us warm while we eat our ice cream, we catch up on our respective weekends.
I fix my gaze on my daughter’s face as she animatedly tells me all about climbing the big maple tree in my parents’ backyard and setting up pretend jumps as she rode her imaginary horse Fame around in circles.
“I won a blue ribbon for first place, obviously,” she says with all the pride of a child who just won the actual Olympics.
“Of course you did!” I say enthusiastically, reaching over to ruffle her hair.
“And what did you do this weekend?” my dad asks.
My thoughts immediately turn to Winhaven’s newest resident, and as if I conjured her myself, I see a woman I swear is Rosalie walking down the sidewalk across the street.
My stomach clenches in anticipation as I squint to see if it’s actually her or just a figment of my imagination.
I must be staring for longer than I realize because when my dad clears his throat, I startle back to the present conversation.
Not ready to tell my parents about that part of my weekend—for fear it may give them the sliver of hope they’ve been waiting for that I’m ready to jump back into the dating pool—I give them the reasonable and expected answer.
“I worked on the tree house designs for Addie and fixed a few things around the house. I was supposed to meet Beck for a drink, but something came up and he had to bail.”
Addie shrieks next to me. “Does the tree house look like a castle?”
“I’m trying my best,” I say with an affectionate smile directed her way.
In truth, figuring out a castle design for a tree house has been a bit harder than anticipated with every internet link sending me to a Treehouse Masters episode.
I really enjoy woodworking in my spare time, but the tree houses those people create are well above my skill level.
Still, I’m determined to give my little girl my best effort.
“Well, it sounds like you had a productive weekend, and we had so much fun spending time with Addie,” my mom says, reaching over to pat my daughter’s ice cream-covered hand. I watch in amusement as my mom tries to hide her grimace when her hand comes away covered in pink goo.
“What was that you said about karma?” I say with a wink.
Ever the mature parent, my mom returns a familiar gesture, sticking her tongue out at me as Addison laughs sheepishly. “Sorry, Grandma C.”
“It’s okay, sweetie. It looks like you’re really enjoying your ice cream.”
“I am!” Addie exclaims, shoving the last huge bite into her mouth.
After everyone’s finished, we clean up our table, and Addison and I walk back to my parents’ car to grab her bag and wish them a safe drive back to Carlsburg.
Leaning down, I wrap my mom in a warm hug.
“Thanks again for having Addie stay with you this weekend,” I say as I pull back.
“It was our pleasure, Cam.”
“Yeah, we always enjoy time with this little nugget,” my dad says, wrapping an arm around my daughter and patting me on the shoulder.
My parents truly are two of the greatest people in the world, I think as they climb in their car and pull away from the curb, Addison waving enthusiastically until their car is no longer in sight.
Catching her wrist, I tuck her hand into mine and guide her back toward our car.
“You ready to head home, kiddo?”
She looks up at me with the big, chocolate-colored eyes she got from her mom and a bright smile, and everything feels right in my world again.
“Yeah, Daddy, let’s go!”