ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟜
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People always made waking up early sound like some great achievement. To me, it simply meant I had more hours available to work.
I stared at the ceiling for a while, listening to the house breathe around me.
The rainstorm from last night had finally passed. Every so often, I heard tiny droplets sliding off the gutters outside. Somewhere downstairs, the refrigerator hummed. I was starting to hate that noise.
Beside me, Cameron was still asleep.
Wait.
When had we gotten back from our snooze in the basement? Cameron must've picked me back up to the bedroom.
The basement definitely wasn't the best place to sleep in. My back ached from sleeping on the hard wooden floor.
I turned my head.
Cam was lying on his stomach, one arm tucked beneath his pillow, blond hair sticking up in several directions that completely ignored gravity. His breathing was slow and steady.
Peaceful, even. That word didn't belong to Cam very often. For someone who spent his days running toward burning buildings, he slept surprisingly hard.
I watched him longer than I meant to.
Then, as if sensing someone staring at him, one blue eye cracked open.
"Morning." His voice was full of sleep.
"Oh, hi." I immediately looked away.
"Have you been awake long?"
"No."
"I don't believe you." He bit his entire lower lip, smiling.
"I've been awake exactly..." I glanced at the clock on the side. "six minutes."
"So you've been staring at me for six minutes?"
"I wasn't staring."
"Don't play those games, Dixie. We both know you were staring."
"I could play games with you all day."
Cringe. I regretted saying that. Now he was going to drag it.
"That might be the hottest thing you've said to me." He says, stretching his arms.
I smirk and chuckle. "You're so easy."
I climbed out of bed before he could say anything else. The hardwood floor was cold beneath my feet- I immediately regretted not wearing slippers.
"Gosh, the floor is freezing." I mumble.
"Want me to warm you up?" He asks, seriousness in his tone.
"No, thanks. I'm sure my body will produce some heat."
Behind me, I heard the bed creak. Then footsteps followed. Before I even reached for my blouse, warm arms wrapped around my waist. I froze.
His chin rested lightly against the top of my head.
"Are you sure your body is going to produce heat? You're pretty cold."
"Yes I'm sure."
His arms tightened just enough to make escaping inconvenient.
"I still don't like it."
I looked down at the hands resting over my stomach. "You've become awfully clingy."
"I prefer affectionate."
"I think clingy is more like it." I stick to my statement.
"I'll accept clingy."
"You know, I have things to do."
He leaned down and kissed my temple before walking toward the bathroom.
"I'll make breakfast."
He tightened his grip one last time before walking towards the bathroom, shutting the door. The bathroom door clicked shut. I stood there for another second, touching the place he'd kissed.
Was I really about to let a small kiss on the forehead make me feel giddy?
~
"Cameron?"
"Kitchen," he replied.
I walked downstairs cautiously.
The kitchen looked clean. There wasn't any smoke, or burning.
Cam was slowly getting better at cooking. He stood at the stove wearing a navy T-shirt and jeans, flipping French toast casually.
He looked over his shoulder. "Oh, good."
"What?"
"You don't look horrified."
"Should I?" I say, smiling.
"No."
"Then why did you say that?"
"I wasn't sure how breakfast turned out."
I get on my tippy toes and peer over his shoulder. "It looks fine."
"Thank you."
He finished by turning the stove off and plating everything while I poured two glasses of orange juice.
I poked at the French toast. It was a golden brown, though one piece had a suspicious, charred edge. I had to give it to him- this was probably one of his best dishes.
"So," he said as I slid a glass of orange juice toward him. "Whats the verdict?"
I chuckled under my breath before taking a cautious bite, chewing slowly as I covered my mouth with my hand. I swallowed it quickly and gave a slow, tentative nod.
"It's edible, alright."
Perhaps I said that because it was the only meal I've had in weeks.
"Did you use the fancy syrup? The stuff my mom sent from Vermont?"
Cam's face immediately shifted into a mask of fake innocence. He looked up at the ceiling, then over at the toaster. "What syrup?"
"Cam. I can see the bottle on the counter. You didn't even put the cap back on."
"You got me," he smiles.
We had stayed quiet like that, the sound of forks against plates filling in the silence. One thing I had to appreciate about Cameron was how he never failed to make me feel awkward in my own quiet.
"You've got a smudge of syrup on your chin," I pointed out suddenly.
He went to wipe it with his hand, but he missed. He tried again, scrubbing harder.
"You keep missin' it," I said, leaning in. "Left. No- your other left."
"I've got it, I've got it," he muttered, now aggressively scrubbing his jawline.
"Now you just look like you're trying to shave your face with your thumb," I giggled.
He grins, giving up. "Help me out, will you?"
I rolled my eyes before reaching over and using my napkin to dab the spot.
He froze for a second, his eyes meeting mine. The joking faded just a fraction. He didn't move away; he actually leaned into the touch, just a millimeter.
"It's off now." I clear my throat.
"Great."
An hour later, I heard the bedroom closet slide open. I looked up from my laptop.
Work.
Right.
I was supposed to be working.
Instead, I'd somehow spent 10 minutes watching Cameron fold laundry.
10 minutes! I could've finished filing a report by then. But no, I wasted 10 minutes watching my husband arrange clothes.
Was I really this stupid?
I scolded myself in my head. This was starting to become a big problem.
He walked out carrying part of his uniform before disappearing again. When he came back, he had his bunker pants draped over one arm.
The heavy black fabric looked enormous.
Even after all these years, seeing his gear always made my stomach tighten.
Because it meant fire. Danger. The possibility that every shift could become the one people talked about afterward.
"C'mere."
I blinked. "What?"
He held up the suspenders. "Help me?"
I closed my laptop without another word.
He stepped into the bunker pants while I reached for the thick suspenders, pulling them carefully over his shoulders. The material was heavier than it looked. Sometimes I wonder how he carries 10 pounds on him all day.
"You tighten these too much every time," he said.
"They're supposed to stay on." I reply, clipping the suspenders to his turnout pants.
"They also need to let me breathe."
"Is breathing really important when you're out there practically dying every day?"
I glanced up at him. That was a bit harsh of you, Dixie.
He looked down at me with a confused expression on his face. "You've spent too much time with lawyers."
"I am a lawyer."
"My point exactly." he breathed.
I adjusted the straps one final time before patting his shoulder.
"There."
He glanced down. "Perfect."
I reached for the collar of his station shirt, absentmindedly smoothing it flat. The gesture surprised both of us as my hand lingered for half a second.
Then I pulled it away. "Sorry, habit."
He looked at me differently like I'd done something much bigger than straighten a collar.
"Thank you, Dix."
"Don't mention it."
He grabbed his duffel bag from beside the door.
"I suppose this is where the wife kisses her darling husband goodbye?"
I smirk. "This isn't the 1980s, get a hold of yourself."
"So no kiss goodbye then?"
"Have a good shift, Cam." I smile tightly.
"You too."
He turned to the door and walked three steps. I assumed that was it, but then he stopped, turned back around, and crossed the room again.
"What?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he gently placed two fingers beneath my chin, tilting my face upward.
My heart shuddered.
"Cameron?" I whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Weren't you just leaving?"
"Yeah, but I forgot something."
Before I could ask what, he leaned down, his lips meeting mine softly. The kiss tasted faintly of the peppermint gum he always chewed.
For a few seconds, the whole world narrowed down to the heat of his palm against my jaw and the sudden, frantic drumming of my own pulse in my ears.
I leaned into him instinctively, my hands hovering inches from his chest.
Reality came crashing back hard. What the hell was I doing, kissing my husband when I should've been working?
I planted my palms against his chest and gave a sharp, sudden shove.
It wasn't enough to knock him back, but it was enough to break the seal. I stepped away, feeling the eerie chill of the room where his warmth had just been.
"You," I panted, my voice sounding breathless, "are absolutely out of your mind."
Cameron stayed where he was, his arms hanging loose at my sides, a slow, maddeningly smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Gosh, I hated him for making me feel certain feelings sometimes. I wasn't going to disclose what kind.
"I'm a man of efficiency, Mrs. West," he murmured, "Why say goodbye twice when one kiss does the trick?"
I felt a flutter in my stomach. A frantic beat that I hated.
I tried to pull my professional mask back on, smoothing down my sweater with trembling fingers, but my lips were still tingling- the scent of peppermint was clinging to my skin.
"You bug," I blurted, though the authority in my voice wasn't very demanding. "Out before I report you for harassment."
"You'd have to find a witness," he said, finally stepping back toward the door. He paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Now I'm leaving."
He waited as I cleared my throat. "Goodbye."
He grinned wider. "Bye, Dix. I'll see you tonight."
"Drive safely." I found myself smiling back.
"I always do." He snorted.
I followed him to the front door.