Chapter 23
twenty-three
Rosalie
Ishoot up into a sitting position. “Mom! Paige!” I say on a gasp, looking around frantically, still a little disoriented in my new space.
“Hey, hey, hey, Rosalie, you’re okay. You’re okay.”
Gentle hands go to each side of my face and Cameron comes into focus.
He’s sitting next to me on the couch, and I reach for him, wrapping my arms around his torso and laying my head on his chest. I listen to his heart, beating almost as fast as mine, and I wonder if he was also startled awake by the timer.
My breaths start to even out as he wraps his arms around me, his hand running up and down the length of my back, and I swear I feel a kiss to the top of my head.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asks in a careful tone.
I sit up, only slightly embarrassed, and nod. This man has already seen me at my worst, and that takes the awkwardness of this moment down a notch.
“Okay,” he says while slowly untangling himself from me. “I need to go take the lasagna out of the oven so it doesn’t burn. I’ll be right back.”
Instead of staying on the couch, I stand up, straighten my clothes, and follow him into the kitchen.
He opens the oven as I stand there, still slightly dazed.
“How did that even happen? How long was I napping? All I remember is you shooing me into the living room and sitting down on the couch.”
Cameron chuckles. “You must have been exhausted because by the time I took the food out of the refrigerator and turned to offer you wine or beer, you were out cold.”
I sigh and look down at my feet.
“It’s been a really long week, and apparently I was more drained than I thought. That might have been the first time I’ve stopped moving since Monday.”
“Are you sleeping at night?”
I hesitate, although I don’t know why, as I watch him place the lasagna on top of the stove to cool. Cameron’s been an open book when it comes to talking about the loss of his wife, and he’s been so unbelievably understanding. Why would now be any different?
“No, not really.” I look up at him to see his expression.
It’s open and empathetic, there’s not an ounce of judgment.
“I’m too afraid to close my eyes. When I do, I relive the phone call from my brother and the news that my mom is gone all over again.
But when I’m awake, I’m mentally scrolling every memory I can conjure of my mom and me, trying to catalog every one of them, afraid they’ll start fading. ”
Cameron’s nod prompts me to continue.
“I’ve even gone as far as putting a notebook by the side of the bed so I can jot down the memories as they come.
But that means I’m constantly picking it up and writing in it, never quite fully falling asleep.
I honestly think that half-hour nap you just witnessed is the most sleep I’ve gotten all week.
It’s likely why I freaked out when I woke up. ”
I laugh, trying to make light of the moment, but the look in Cameron’s eyes tells me he knows my struggles on the deepest level.
“When Julianne passed away, I spent many nights wandering the house while everyone else slept. Everywhere I turned there was a memory. Julianne and I playfully arguing while moving our furniture into our first and only home together, memories of holidays when both of our families joined together, date nights in front of the fireplace, the moment we found out we were pregnant with Addison, Julianne holding Addison in our living room after bringing her home from the hospital, Julianne crying in front of the mirror as clumps of hair came out in her brush during chemo, last smiles, last words, last breaths. They were all there, spinning wildly together like a tornado inside my mind. So, I get it. I wholeheartedly get every bit of it, and I understand the exhaustion, both physically and emotionally.”
“What did you do? How did you do it?” I whisper.
“I had a lot of support from my family and friends. And, full disclosure, I went to counseling pretty frequently in the beginning. I needed someone who could handle all my feelings without judgment, because many of them were big and nasty. I wasn’t just sad.
I was angry—so angry. I was angry that this was my life and confused as to why someone as amazing as my wife was not meant to live a long and happy life by my side.
My emotions were all over the place, and I needed someone to let me feel them and help me work through them.
I still go occasionally, especially as Addison’s gotten older and begun asking more questions. ”
I hear what he’s saying, and I’d like nothing more than to talk to someone, but I don’t have the same support.
Even if I wanted to go, when would I have the time?
And who would watch Paige? I’ve only just started making lasting friendships here, and they have already done so much for me. I couldn’t possibly ask for more.
A lump starts to form in my throat, and my nose begins to tingle, and I know I’m about to freaking cry. Again.
“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea. Something to look into for sure,” I say, backing out of the kitchen. “I’m just going to pop in and check on the girls.” And, with that, I turn and practically run down the hall.
I stay true to my word and peek my head around the corner of Paige’s room to check on her and Addison. The room is a mess of horses, paper, markers, and more, but I’m grateful they’re getting along and occupied because I’m hanging on by a thread.
Bolting for my bathroom, I barely get the door closed before I double over and let loose a silent sob.
It’s sad to say I’ve perfected this move, having found myself in this same position multiple times this week at work.
The wave of sadness feels like it comes out of nowhere, like an undercurrent I can’t fight.
It lasts a grand total of less than a minute before I’m able to pull myself together and go about my day with no one the wiser.
Except when I open my bathroom door, Cameron’s there.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hi,” I reply, letting that singular word hang there, unsure of what to say next.
“You want to tell me what happened back there?” he says, throwing a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the kitchen.
Dropping my chin to my chest, I let out a deep sigh, gathering my thoughts before looking up to meet his kind eyes.
“I’m not entirely sure. It’s been kind of hitting me out of nowhere a lot this week.
But if I had to guess, I’d say it was some combination of feeling overwhelmed by your honesty and heartfelt advice and a sense of resignation that I’m not in a place to take that step right now. ”
“What do you mean? What’s holding you back if you think it would help?”
I get a little defensive at this line of questioning and, unfortunately, don’t hold back the sarcasm when I say, “I’m obviously not like you, Cameron.
I don’t have the whole family and friends thing to help me out here.
I can’t go during the workday, and I have no one to watch Paige after I get off.
Even if I did want to set something up with a counselor, I just can’t right now. ”
His eyes widen, obviously caught off guard by my outburst, but he doesn’t back away from the conversation.
“Rosalie, that’s what I have been trying to show you and tell you since the moment I answered your phone call that night. I want to be that person. Let me be that person.”
This lowers my defenses and brings on a whole other set of feelings.
“Cameron, I have the hardest time letting others do anything for me. Just giving Elodie the keys to my place before I left was a Herculean effort. It’s part of the reason I can’t stop saying thank you, even though I’m annoying the hell out of myself, and probably you guys, too. I hate feeling like someone’s burden.”
“You are no one’s burden, Rosalie Whittington,” he says, stepping so close I’m forced to look up and meet his gaze. “You are absolutely someone’s privilege and honor. Every part of you, the good and bad, mad or sad, and all the times in between. I’m asking you to let me be that someone.”
Jesus, the intensity and earnestness pouring off him is so overwhelming, all I can do is nod and breathe out an “Okay, I’ll try.”
He expels a huff of laughter and pulls me in for a tight hug. It feels good and solid, and just what I need right now because his heartfelt declaration has me reeling.
“You know what? I’ll take it. Now, let’s start small. How about you go grab the girls and let me serve you the dinner I’ve been slaving over all day in the kitchen.”
This makes me laugh into his chest and easily acquiesce.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping back and looking up once more. “I know I keep repeating it, but I need you to accept it each time.”
“Fine,” he says with a smirk. “I will accept every simple thank you thrown my way. Or you could bank them and show me your gratitude in other ways.” His brows waggling up and down in a suggestively playful manner.
My mouth drops and my face flushes, but he just stands there fucking smirking at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
And with that, he saunters out of the bedroom while I endure the most epic case of emotional whiplash known to man. I shake my head and let out a soft giggle as I walk out of the room to grab the girls for dinner.
The kitchen table feels perfectly full as the four of us sit down to eat.
Paige and Addison are a stream of nonstop chatter and laughter, and my heart is so full that a friendship between them is already forming.
A genuine smile spreads across my face as I watch the two of them, and when I look across the table to Cameron, he shares the same expression. Our eyes meet, and he winks.
Typically, a wink from Cameron is flirtatious, but this time it feels like a gesture of understanding and connection.
You’d think after my breakdown, there would be some awkwardness, but the conversation between the two of us at dinner has been just as easy as the girls’.
He’s told me more about his best friend and brother-in-law Beckett who helped put together our furniture, the accounting firm he started with his grumpy partner Tom, and a bit more about his love for woodworking.
It’s been nice ending the night talking about the simple things rather than the heaviness from earlier.
In a show of genuine Southern hospitality, Cameron tries to clean up by himself, but this time, I win the battle of wills and join him to help. We move about the kitchen in a manner that’s as natural as breathing, like we’ve spent our whole lives sharing the same space.
He takes every opportunity to touch me. A gentle hand on my hip to move me aside. A brush to my back as he slides past. His chest to my back as he reaches above me to put something away on a shelf. I relish every single one.
When it’s finally time for Cameron and Addison to leave, I find myself wishing for more time.
I’m worried that once they walk out the door, the sadness and loneliness will creep back in.
Logically, I know they can’t stay here forever, so when Cameron turns to give me a hug, I accept it like the rational woman I’m pretending to be and resist the urge to cling.
Paige and Addison hug and giggle with significantly more exuberance before Cameron ushers Addison outside to their car.
I turn to Paige and quickly pull her into a hug.
“Did you have fun tonight, Paigey?”
“Yeah, Mommy. I did! Addie is the nicest, and I want to play with her more.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to play with her a lot more this summer,” I say while guiding her down the hallway to get ready for bed.
I’m not even halfway down the hall when the doorbell rings. I don’t know many people in this town, and two of them just left my house, so I send Paige to her room with a request for her to put on her pajamas and a promise I’ll be there soon to read her a book.
I head back to the front door and hesitantly crack it open, only to find Cameron on the other side. I open the door wider. “Hey, did you forget something?”
He doesn’t answer, instead he steps inside and looks around the living room. I wonder what he’s looking for and am about to ask when he turns to face me. His eyes search mine before he places both hands gently on each side of my face and brings his lips to mine.
In an instant, my eyes close, and I take pleasure in the warmth of his lips on mine.
The kiss is soft and lasts no longer than a few seconds, but as he pulls back, I can’t help my smile. And when I open my eyes, he’s looking at me with a matching one.
“I did forget something, but I think I just found it. Good night, Rosalie.”
“Good night,” I say with my hand on my lips and the damn smile still on my face as he walks back out the door.