Chapter 36
thirty-six
Cameron
Irun home to relieve the babysitter and quickly change out of my work clothes into a pair of worn jeans and a gray T-shirt before loading Addie into the Jeep and heading to get Paige from camp.
It’s a good thing Rosalie added me to the pickup list a few weeks ago when she had a late call at work or I’m not sure they would have let her come with me.
Paige did briefly ask why I was picking her up instead of her mom.
I wasn’t exactly sure what to say, finally deciding to tell her that her mom got off work early and didn’t want her to miss the fun at camp, so I offered to pick her up instead.
She seemed to accept my answer and jumped right back into her conversation with Addison.
I knew it wasn’t my business to tell her anything about today, nor did I think it would be appropriate for a seven-year-old to hear about what happened from anyone but her mom.
Starving, we collectively vote on picking up pizza before we make our way back to Rosalie’s house.
I pull into the driveway, and almost immediately both girls are running full force toward the front door. Before I can tell them to be quiet, they burst through the door and into the house. I trail behind them with several boxes of pizza in my hand.
When I step through the door, Rosalie’s on the couch, her cropped tee showing a hint of skin, looking wide-eyed and a bit rumpled with a chattering Paige embracing her in an excited hug.
Sorry, I mouth. She looks adorable, but I feel bad knowing we must have woken her up when she clearly needed sleep.
“It’s okay.”
I take the pizzas into the kitchen and grab all the things we need to eat dinner while each of the girls excitedly swaps stories about their day with Rosalie.
I turn from gathering the plates from the cabinets and am caught off guard by the rush of emotion that pummels me at seeing Rosalie cuddled up on the couch with both girls, one on each side.
It takes me back to another time and a vision of Julianne, snuggled up with a young Addison on our couch as they watched a TV show. The juxtaposition of images has me feeling an unexpected mix of emotions.
Guilt swirls with love, both past and present, as the image of Julianne dissipates from my mind, and I refocus on Addie and Rosalie.
It occurs to me at this moment that while I’ve rarely felt inadequate as Addison’s dad, she’s missed out on years of simple interactions like this one, curled up on the couch with a mother figure, chatting about her day.
I’m struck by how Rosalie’s looking at Addison as she speaks. There’s no difference in her interest level, in her smile, or the way she brushes the hair off Addie’s face as she talks animatedly about the delicious snack she made with the sitter today.
She gives her the same rapt attention she gives to Paige, listening intently to her replies and answering earnestly.
I’ve spent the past five years making sure Addie knew as much about Julianne as possible. I’ve kept her memory alive in such great detail because I never anticipated falling for another woman so completely after her mom.
I’m hit with an unexpected wave of guilt that Julianne could feel replaced, and my heart aches even though rationally I know she’s no longer here.
My love for her hasn’t waned since losing her, but through many, many hours of reflection and counseling, I was able to accept my love for her can remain as I open myself up to new experiences, love for another included.
However, up until now, that was simply knowledge, a what if possibility.
It’s hard for me to distinguish whether I was subconsciously guarding myself from the possibility of being with another, or I was simply waiting for the right person to come into my life. But as I stare at Rosalie and Addison together, I know it was the latter.
Rosalie has embraced Addison with such kindness and care, and Addie has flourished under her motherly instincts.
While that realization only makes me fall more in love with Rosalie Whittington, it doesn’t quite quell the undercurrent of guilt hiding just beneath the surface.
This heady mixture of feelings swirling through me makes me a bit emotional, and I excuse myself under the guise of needing the restroom.
I walk to the bedroom and close the door partway to take a moment for myself.
Lowering to the floor, back resting against Rosalie’s bed, I draw my legs up close to my body and prop my elbows on my knees, letting my head hang down with the weight of all that’s happened today.
It’s an odd combination, realizing you’re more than enough for your child while also accepting there will always be room for something or someone else who can make them feel even more loved and complete.
Rosalie has stepped in with an indescribable grace and finesse, never overstepping or intruding on Julianne’s memory.
Then a thought hits me like a ton of bricks.
Rosalie would never want to do such a thing.
After losing her own mother, she’s likely more sympathetic to Addison than anyone else could ever be.
I feel so stupid for not recognizing it earlier. I’ve been so focused on using my own journey of loss to connect and understand Rosalie that it really hadn’t occurred to me her life parallels Addie’s, too.
Of course, she’d be more cognizant of the balance needed to respectfully keep Julianne’s memory alive. She’s living the same kind of loss right now.
As if conjured by my thoughts, Rosalie appears in the doorway.
“Hey, are you okay?” she asks gently, walking toward me with a book in her hand.
Setting it on the nightstand, she sits down next to me, looping her arms through mine and placing her head on my shoulder.
I quickly turn to give the top of her head a quick peck before returning my gaze to the floor.
I hesitate, not wanting to pour out all my heavy feelings on a day that was already such a struggle for her.
But in the end, I choose honesty. She’s shown me so much vulnerability since we met, it’s only right to share mine with her.
“Yeah, I just got overwhelmed by the sight of you with Addie on the couch. It stirred up a few unexpected emotions, and I needed a few minutes to process them. I hope you don’t mind I snuck off to your room.”
“Not at all. Anything you want to talk about?” Her voice is soft and coaxing.
“Yes. No. I’m having a difficult time deciding what to share with you. You’ve had a hard day, and I don’t want to pile more shit on top of it.”
I have yet to meet her eyes as my head hangs down under the weight of my feelings. Rosalie shifts, her head leaving my shoulder, and she reappears kneeling in front of me. On any other day, her position would likely elicit all sorts of depraved thoughts, but today has been too heavy for that.
Rosalie places a palm on each side of my face and lifts my chin, moving forward and pressing her forehead to mine. When I finally get the courage to lift my gaze and meet hers, I see nothing but empathy and compassion in her eyes.
“You’re right, it has been a long day, and you’ve taken care of me and held me through it. In fact, you’ve been holding me together since the day we met.” She gives a warm smile that could cajole a secret out of anyone before she continues. “Now it’s my turn, let me do the same for you.”
Her voice is strong and sincere, with no evidence of the woman who shattered in my arms mere hours ago.
So, I do what she asks and I share all the thoughts cycling through my head tonight. Through it all, she listens intently. When I’m done, I let out a shaky breath and wait for her response.
The first thing she does is lean forward and tenderly kiss my lips. The warmth of her lips against mine has me leaning into her immediately, seeking the intimacy and comfort I need right now.
My hands go up to her neck, my thumb gently laying atop her pulse point as I pull her closer. Her hands come up to cover mine, gently squeezing before pulling them away and planting final kisses on the inside of each palm, then she brings them in front of us and laces our fingers together.
“I’m pretty new to this whole grief journey, but I want to try my best to convey how I feel about all you’ve shared with me. I think grief and guilt will always be intertwined in some capacity. I’ll always have guilt that I moved away and wasn’t there when my mom passed.”
She takes a shaky breath, and I bring our intertwined hands to my mouth to give hers a kiss, leaving them lightly against my lips as she continues to talk.
“And you’ll always have moments where you feel guilty Julianne isn’t here to experience life with you or guilt you’re moving forward in life without her, but I think it’s important to acknowledge guilt is a thief in our story.
A thief that tries to rob us of the joy we have in our life right now, even as we move forward with our grief.
It taints the experiences and memories we have of those we’ve loved and lost. It diminishes the feelings of those who also loved us and would never want us to feel the negativity of guilt when we think back on our time with them. ”
She pulls a hand out from my grasp and places it on my cheek, gently rubbing her thumb back and forth in a motion that soothes me.
“You, Cameron Brown, are a phenomenal father, and, no doubt, were a spectacular husband. Julianne was a lucky woman, and Addison is an incredibly blessed little girl. Your life together was remarkable and will remain that way forever. Don’t let guilt steal any of that away from you.”
A tear slides down my face, and Rosalie wipes it away with her thumb.
“I’ll love and care for your little girl as if she were my own but will always recognize she’s not.
I’ll always save space for Julianne’s memory to stand beside me as my relationship with Addie continues to grow.
I’ll always respect that your love story with Julianne made you the man you are today, and that’s the man I love. ”
I suck in a breath as her words hit me before launching forward onto my knees in front of her, claiming her mouth. I pull her tightly against me, hoping she can feel every cell in my body loves her too.
She smiles against my lips, and the remaining weight of today slips away.
I pull back slightly and with a voice full of gratitude for everything she just said, I reply, “I love you, too.” Then my lips are on hers again.
Emotionally drained or not, her words recharge me, and I want nothing more than to haul her up off the floor, lay her down on the bed, and meld our bodies together, showing her exactly how much I love her. I want to get as close as humanly possible to Rosalie Whittington and never, ever let go.
I’m about to do just that when I hear the peals of laughter from outside the bedroom, and I remember where we are and what we were doing before three words changed the trajectory of my world.
I breathe out a sound that’s a mix of resignation and laughter. “We’ve been in here for quite a while. How did you keep them occupied for so long?”
“I put the entire box of pizza between them, turned on The Pony-Sitters Club, and told them to have at it.”
An unexpected boom of laughter explodes from me, and I can’t stop myself from moving in to kiss her hard on the mouth before grabbing her hand and pulling her up from the floor. Reluctantly, I drag her out of the bedroom to go check on the girls.
“Come on. Parenting awaits.”