35. Eric
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
ERIC
Val picks me up just past noon, her sunglasses crooked and her professional bun looking worse for wear.
She tosses my discharge papers onto my lap as I get in the car.
Coffee cups and snacks in different stages of abandonment litter the car.
By the time we’ve merged onto the highway, her driving’s gotten aggressive enough that cars leave a cushion around us.
As we drive north, the landscape transforms around us. Soft green slopes give way to a thicker forest canopy. Broader sycamores, maples, and oaks adorn the road now. I don’t ask Val to slow down. The motion calms my nerves even as it rattles my teeth.
Twenty-nine weeks and five days. I’ve been trying to imagine the feel of her under my hands. There’s bubbling excitement running through my veins, but also an undercurrent of fear that she’s upset I left.
Val pulls into the gravel loop, and Diego’s sisters rush toward us. Martina throws her arms around me while Carmen jabs me in the ribs, both grinning like they never doubted I’d make it here.
I look past them at the green-roof two-story cabin circle around a firepit beside the lake, but I only notice the dock.
Amanda stands at the end of it, talking to Matteo, tumbler in hand, the other braced against her lower back.
A breeze lifts her hair, purple highlights flashing in the sunlight.
A shiver runs up my spine that my being here disturbs her peace.
Rather than taking hold, I focus on her smile.
I take in the curve of her stomach, more pronounced now, and how her hips angle differently. Warmth spreads in my chest.
“Hey.” Diego halts to a stand next to me, arms crossed, and his brown eyes trained on Amanda. “You good?” he asks, quieter now.
I shift my head from side to side. “Maybe. I need to see her face when she sees me.”
Matteo waves our way, then tips his chin.
“You’re about to,” Diego says, clapping my shoulder before walking away.
She turns my way then, and the moment her eyes find mine, everything else—the lake, the voices, the late-summer wind—disappears.
Amanda doesn’t run to me. She simply holds my gaze while my pulse pounds harder with every step I take toward her.
It’s not one of those run-and-hug moments from a romcom.
It’s charged and cautious. When I stop, we’re a breath apart, suspended between reunion and uncertainty.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” She purses her lips into a smile. It’s neither cold nor warm, and the shiver returns.
I gesture at her belly. “You look… I mean, you’re—”
“Big?”
“Gorgeous.”
She looks down, then back up at me. The smile is warm now, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
“I missed you,” she says.
“I’m here now.” I hesitate. “And I’m not leaving again.”
She focuses her gaze on me, eyes squinting. “You wouldn’t have said that before.”
“I’m trying to be who I promised I’d be.”
Amanda stretches out her hand, and I give her mine. The second our fingers touch, every shiver and undercurrent of fear I’d felt eases. She steps in and presses my palm to her belly, right on the sliver of skin between her peasant skirt and tank top.
“He’s missed you too,” she says.
“Did you name him?” I ask, soaking in the movement inside her.
She shakes her head.
“Pick an apartment?”
Another shake.
“Pick a color for the nursery?”
A third shake. I chuckle. “Did you do anything I asked you to?”
She hesitates, then smiles. “Be with you.”
My own smile breaks. I close the final distance and pull her into my arms. Her nails dig into my sides, and it helps my heart settle. I’m home.
Amanda’s parents and Mom step up to us while I still have Amanda in my arms. When I face them, keeping Amanda pressed firmly to my side, the three of them smile.
“Uncl—” Calling Amanda’s dad uncle suddenly feels really freaking weird. “Sandro,” I extend my free hand his way, my fingers tightening on Amanda’s wrist.
Mom ohhhs and ahhs about how healthy I look.
When she pulls me into a hug, Amanda holds onto my arm, and it sinks in that we’re finally showing we won’t let each other go.
The hair on the back on my neck stands and, tugging Amanda in closer, I meet Robert’s eyes.
A colder version of my own shade of brown.
We hold each other’s gaze until I break away.
Not in embarrassment that he won’t acknowledge me, but with pride that I get to hold someone who lifts me up.
Saturdays aren’t much different from Fridays at these gatherings. Every meal is a group feast, every table pulled together, bowls passed around, drinks refilled. Laughter and gossip bleed into each other loudly. It’s usually easy if I fly under the radar.
Not tonight.
The seating arrangement is a bit too on the nose for my taste. Divided into two sides: those who’d back me up, and those who wouldn’t, with my father in the center, right across from me. At the edge of the table, next to Max, I clock the girl with the swallow tattoo and tense.
“Nova.” Amanda leans in to whisper. “Her name’s Nova.”
“You okay with her here?” I’m already shifting in my seat, ready to leave.
Amanda waves her hand. “It’s fine, Eric.”
She trails a path up my arm until she reaches the back of my neck and fixes the tag of my shirt, smoothing it down. Her hand brushes the tips of my hair, and I dip to kiss her temple. When I glance up, Robert is watching with a disapproving frown and pursed lips.
“So, Eric, how come you joined us a day late?” Armando Bennett, the twins’ dad, bridges all the side conversations with his question.
Everyone’s gaze zeros in on Amanda’s hand on my neck. Her forearm goes rigid against my shoulder, and I brace for the loss of her touch under scrutiny. It never leaves.
I clear my throat. “I was busy,” I answer. “Amanda didn’t want to miss it, so I caught up later.”
Armando nods, but his wife picks up where he left off. “So… we’ve heard whispers from the girls,” she adds, her blonde hair swaying in the light wind. “You and Amanda are together?”
Kate, Amanda’s mom, cuts in. “Samira, let the kids be kids, yeah?”
Robert coughs loudly, all eyes on him. “Kate, the kids”—he infuses the word with mockery—“are thirty fucking years old. Mine”—he tips his head Keith’s way—“is married.”
Amanda’s mom holds my father’s stare, her hair glowing auburn under the sunset. She opens her mouth, and Robert talks over her.
“A client of ours, from your university”—he waves his finger between Amanda and me—“said a professor left in the middle of a summer seminar to check himself into a mental health facility.”
He takes a slow sip, eyes on me over the rim of his glass, as if he hasn’t knowingly put me under unwanted spotlight. Across from Amanda, Keith’s mouth twitches.
I swallow. Six weeks ago, I would have hidden it under shame and fear. Now, I hold my ground against him. “It was me.”
Silverware clinks, and someone coughs.
Robert nods, eyes shining with pretend concern.
“Well, you always were a little… sensitive. Max’s girl”—he points at the woman, Nova—“is very concerned about how you’re doing.
” He’s smiling, and so is Keith. “Since you two share history and all.” He looks at Amanda.
“Hopefully that’s not news to you, sweetheart?
His”—Robert waves his glass, the ice clinking with the movement—“issues?”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” Amanda responds. “And Eric’s—”
I wrap my hand around her wrist, and she stops, meeting my gaze. I stand up, hand still wrapped around Amanda’s, and look at my mom. “I can’t do this anymore.”
Robert’s illusion of a perfect marriage was never mine to protect. And I won’t at the expense of Amanda or my child inheriting this mess.
I point my finger at Robert, leaning over the table.
“You abandoned me. You fathered a child.” Saliva flies off my mouth with the force of my words.
“And at every turn, you humiliate me because you weren’t faithful to your wife.
” I lick my lips and breathe in. Amanda’s fingers interlace with mine.
“You manipulate your son, my half brother, into bullying me.” I take a second to meet his wife’s eyes.
“If you didn’t know, I am sorry. If you did, shame on you too. ”
I survey everyone at this table and meet their eyes. Every Camacho, including Uncle Tony, looks at me with pride. Sandro nods, and Katie smiles. Mom sniffles, gaze locked on her knees, before looking up to me without anger. I look back at Robert, this hypocrite whose blood I carry.
“You want to humiliate me? Fine.” I puff up my chest. “But own your bullshit, and tell everyone I’m your son.”
Robert’s face goes from red to bordering on purple, the color climbing from to the tips of his ears. Beside him, his wife stares at him, her brows disappearing into her hairline. Across the table, Cece has gone completely still, her lips parted around a gasp.
“I thought I wasn’t worthy of you, but the truth is… You were never worthy of me.”
When I sit down, Amanda wraps her arms around my middle, her cheek against my shoulder as I hold her tightly to me. Robert’s wife throws her cup of wine at him, then storms off, and Keith goes after her. Cece stays behind. Robert wipes his face, then takes a proud look around him.
Mom stands up, her hand on my shoulder. “Go to them,” she says. “Don’t let anything stop you now.”
As he leaves, Amanda’s hold tightens on me, and I feel no shame, even with all eyes on me. Sandro clears his throat, then reaches over until his hand rests on my forearm.
“Eric,” he says. “I’m sorry we didn’t do more to protect you from feeling unwanted.
For what it’s worth, we love you.” He claps against my forearm.
“Steady hands, you’ve got.” The lines around his eyes, green like Amanda’s, soften, and the respect in them hushes my father’s voice inside—the one that tells me I’m not worth much.
Still meeting Sandro’s eyes, I say, “The steadiest, Sandro.” And this time, the words feel true.
Matteo lifts his glass to me and takes a sip. “Motherfucker had it coming,” he says.
“Fuck yeah,” Diego adds, tipping his own glass. “When I grow up, man, I want to be like you.”
“Alright, alright,” Val cuts in, bringing a napkin to the corner of her eyes. “Let’s talk about anything else, yeah?”
Everyone’s parents huddle around my mom, while the Bennett twins bring up a different drama-free topic. Amanda slips her hand under my arm, brushing the skin against my shirt.
She’s got the steadiest hands of them all.
She leans closer, whispering. “Do you want to get out of here?”
I rise and fall into step with her, lacing my fingers into hers.
We stroll wordlessly toward the waterfall where we both fell at different times, and where, in more ways than one, I first realized what Amanda was to me.
The air is cooler here, the cicadas squeak louder.
Amanda settles onto the riverbank, her bare feet floating in the water, and I sit beside her, legs crossed.
“I didn’t know it would come out like that.”
“I did,” she says. “You’ve been holding that your whole life.”
I shift closer to her until our legs touch. “You knew, didn’t you? Since you were ten and told me my dad was mean.”
She nods, placing her chin on my shoulder. “Now you’re free.”
I cup her face and study the thin line of perspiration on her temples and neck, shining against the stubborn flickers of daylight. Between us, her belly rises when the kid kicks. I rub my palm against the spot.
“Hey to you too.” I lean down and press a kiss against the widest part. “He’s going to need a name.”
“Yes, he is. River?”
The child stills in her belly.
“I don’t think he likes it.” I chuckle.
“Willow?”
“Willow Donato has a nice ring.”
“Or Donato Strachan?” she counters.
My heart thuds behind my ribs at the sound of our last names combined. The kid doesn’t move. Not even a bit. “I think that’s a no from him.”
I keep rubbing her stomach, my thumb brushing the sliver of exposed skin between her skirt and tank top. The baby moves again when the offensive names stop.
“What about Beckett?” I ask.
He kicks sharply against my hand.
“I think we have a winner.” Amanda wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me into her, our noses touching. “Also, I think there’s a conspiracy for us to share a bedroom.”
“Well.” I shrug like it’s not a big deal, but my heart rate spikes. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Her wide smile fades, lingering only at the corner with a tinge of vulnerability. “Are you glad I waited for you?”
I look into her eyes and picture the version of today that almost took place. Me away from her, still at the facility, while she battled sharp-tongued jabs on my account.
I close my eyes and roll my forehead against hers, breathing her in until I finally touch my lips to hers. “So fucking glad.”