Chapter Nine Cameron
Chapter Nine
Cameron
Isat alone in my apartment, slouched on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of peppermint oil in the other. I flipped the bottle between my fingers, watching it spin slowly.
Just a small bottle of oil.
Unremarkable, yet it carried the weight of a thousand memories.
The kind that didn’t shout but lingered quietly.
Desperation.
It took hold of my heart and clouded my judgment.
I made a choice in the grip of it when, one day, out of nowhere, a glimpse of happiness appeared. And so, I reached for it, both hands open, telling myself chances like that didn’t come twice.
But I realized too late that nothing good ever came from a decision made in desperation.
It only bred poison, seeping everywhere and causing pain for everyone involved.
Because my desperation caused me to overlook what truly mattered.
And I forgot.
Somewhere along the line, I stopped seeing it.
Stopped seeing her.
The way she uniquely showed her love.
How she kissed the corner of my eye, my cheek, my jaw, my lips whenever I said I loved her, as if she were whispering her love softly into my skin.
How her fingertips sought mine in silence, needing a touch only I could give to quiet the noise inside her mind.
How she kept a bottle of peppermint oil close at hand, ready for the moments when my headache struck.
How she cared in small, thoughtful ways, knowing my schedule better than I did, slipping an extra pen into my bag before work, and always placing my keys where I’d see them in the morning.
The way she held on to me in sleep, even on the nights I didn’t deserve it.
How she knew what I needed before I even spoke it aloud.
And so many more I had forgotten.
Maybe she was just as desperate for me to understand her language, to tell her, Yes, I see you. I know what you’re saying. I see it in your touch, your gestures, your actions.
I overlooked all of that, and I overlooked it deeply.
And now, there was no way to undo it.
I didn’t understand why so much had slipped from my mind.
Why the anger, the shouting, and the fights had drowned out memories of how it used to be.
The things I once understood, things I had cherished, were gone—lost beneath my insecurities.
My selfishness. I was desperate for my love to be returned equally, for her love for me to be proclaimed loudly.
I thought I was all alone in this. That I had been patient enough, that twelve years were long enough to keep trying.
I took a long sip of whiskey, letting it burn slowly.
Today was good. Really good. I spent it with Harper and Sloane, and for a little while, we let ourselves forget about the divorce, the mess I made, everything in between. It was still there, of course, tucked in the back of my mind. But for once, the weight of it didn’t win. Happiness did.
At least for me.
And I wondered if I’d ever feel that happy again.
I knew losing that happiness forever was the cost of decisions made when control and reason slipped away.
And so, I would have to learn to live with it.
To survive it.
I stayed still. The night crawled by, too slow.
The whiskey glass sat empty on the table, the bottle still in my grip.
It remained there as the sun rose on the horizon, then climbed higher and higher until it shone above us.
Finally, I set the bottle down.
I stood up, took a shower, and changed my clothes.
There was somewhere I needed to be.
A decision I had made.
I rang the bell. She opened the door almost immediately, like she’d been waiting, even though I hadn’t called.
Evie breathed out my name. “Cameron.”
She stepped aside, and I walked in. I closed the door behind me and made my way to the living room, dropping onto the sofa. She followed, sitting beside me, her hands fidgeting in her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “I know I pushed too hard. I made you uncomfortable. Of course, you want to be with your child. I should have been more understanding.”
I listened but said nothing.
“I thought you wouldn’t come back,” she continued, her voice trembling.
I looked over and saw the tears in her eyes.
She took my hand and gripped it tight. “I couldn’t sleep.
I kept calling, texting... You didn’t answer.
Cam, you know I love you. I’ve always worried because you never said it back. And I—”
“Evie.”
I cut her off gently. I didn’t want to drag it out any longer. I turned to face her fully.
“You were right.”
She pulled back slightly, her face paling. “What?”
“All of it. You were right.”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t understand...”
“You were right that I never really left her. That I couldn’t let go. That I still love her. And that even though I tried with you... I couldn’t stop loving her.”
I let the words settle between us. Her tears came silently, and I let her cry. It was the truth, and we both needed to hear it out loud, finally.
“And I’m so sorry, Evie.” I closed my eyes and shook my head, the guilt pressing down. “This is all my fault. I pulled you into something I hadn’t let go of. I hurt you, I know that. But I can’t... I can’t keep doing this with you.”
Her grip tightened on my hand, panic flashing in her eyes. “No, Cam. Please, don’t do this. You said you wanted to be with me. That you were mine. You said—”
“I remember,” I said quietly, breathing out slowly. “I remember everything I said. And I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Are we really over, Cam?” Her voice broke as tears streamed down her cheeks.
“One day you say you’re mine, and the next, it’s over?
Is it because I was jealous? Because you spent the whole day with her while I was here waiting, alone?
Do you even think about how hard that is for me?
Can you imagine what that feels like? And even then, I still apologized. I kept trying to understand.”
“I was in a broken marriage, Evie,” I said quietly.
“And I left the wrong way. I ran straight into something new with you before I even had time to understand what went wrong. It was bound to fall apart. I’m not ready.
There’s so much I still need to fix in myself, and I know I’m just dragging you through the mess with me. ”
“Cam.” She wrapped her arms around me, pressing her face to my shoulder. “I can be whatever you need me to be. I’ll stay. I’ll wait. I’ll be there for you, no matter what. I promise. Just don’t give up on us.”
“But Evie.” I closed my eyes, my voice an exasperated whisper. “I won’t ever be able to love you.”
I pulled away gently and lifted her chin so she would look at me. “I realized it too late. But it’s always been her.”
Evie recoiled, sliding to the far end of the sofa. Her whole body shook. “So that’s it? You’re going back to her? After everything? Do you really think she’ll take you back?”
“No.” The word hit hard, tightening my chest. “She won’t. Sloane won’t ever forgive me. She’s going to divorce me. And I’ll be left with the pain of losing the only woman I ever really loved.”
I rose from the sofa and looked at her, sobbing, knowing I was the one who did this to her. Guilt twisted in my chest, but staying would only hurt her more.
“I’m leaving now, Evie,” I said softly. “I hope someday you’ll find someone who can love you the way you deserve.”
The week slipped through my fingers like sand, each day dissolving quietly into the next. I moved through it like a shadow, caught in the stillness, watching life go on around me while everything inside me remained suspended.
I watched her from a distance, fully aware that this was all I was allowed now.
Picking up Harper in the morning and dropping her off at night had become my only window into her world.
These fleeting moments were all I had left.
We didn’t speak, but I still looked forward to those brief moments—those seconds where I could see her up close.
The hospital thrummed with urgency, but my own life dragged underneath it all. The hours bled together. I moved through them on autopilot, but my mind was always elsewhere.
It felt like a miracle that I could perform surgery after surgery without a single complication.
But today felt the hardest, and I didn’t know why. I wondered if it would only get worse from here—how I was supposed to manage it, how I was supposed to keep going when everything inside me was unraveling. I had no answers.
Sloane kept glancing my way, suspicion flickering in her eyes. I knew I wasn’t hiding it well anymore. The longing had found its way onto my face. No matter how I tried to stay grounded, I kept drifting, always gravitating back to her.
My phone buzzed again in my pocket, pulling me out of the moment.
I didn’t need to look to know it was Evie calling or texting.
I no longer had the energy to respond. In the first few days, I had listened to her cry and plead, and I had tried to offer what little comfort I could.
But it was enough. I couldn’t do it anymore.
So I let it ring.
I had already let her go.
When I looked back at the front, Sloane was already gone.
I was on my way to the radiology floor, quietly grateful to have the elevator to myself, when the doors slid open on the second floor and my heartbeat stuttered.
Sloane.
With Gabriel.
Each holding a cup of coffee.
We locked eyes for a moment that stretched too long until they stepped inside.
“Sloane.” Her name slipped from my lips before I could stop it, too full of emotion. I hoped she didn’t hear it the way I felt it.
I turned to Gabriel and gave him a slight nod. He returned it with a polite one of his own.
As much as I wanted to hate him, I couldn’t.
He was a good guy—kind, easy to talk to.
We exchanged a few words now and then whenever we bumped into each other in the locker room.
He was divorced, something to do with his college sweetheart, but I never pried, and he never offered. We weren’t close like that.
He never asked me about Sloane either, though I did catch him once, staring at the wedding ring still on my finger. His brow had creased, like he was trying to figure it out.
“Where are you both heading?” I asked, trying to lessen the awkwardness.
“To the glass balcony on the fifth floor,” Sloane answered.
I tried to keep the surprise off my face, but I must have failed.
My eyes dropped to the coffee and the plate of donuts in her hands, and I tried not to think about the quiet, tucked-away spot they were heading to.
Back then, at the start of us, that balcony was where Sloane and I used to go when we wanted to be alone, just the two of us, away from everything else.
“Oh,” was all I could manage. “Taking a break?”
“Yeah. I still have another half hour,” she replied.
“Okay,” I muttered.
Luckily, the ride was short. When the elevator stopped, I stepped out. “This is me,” I said, glancing back briefly. “I’ll see you.”
I walked away, each step echoing with the weight of my sins, the ache of what I’d lost, and the throb of a heart still breaking.
I hoped she would find someone better than me.
And maybe Gabriel was that someone.
My phone rang and rang again, almost nonstop.
I kept ignoring it until it bothered me so much that I finally shut it down, relying on my pager instead.
I had a couple of surgeries to prepare for, and I needed my head clear.
Distractions like this couldn’t follow me into the OR.
Lives didn’t wait for personal crises. Patients didn’t care if your heart was breaking or if your world was falling apart outside those sterile walls.
They trusted you with their lives, and that meant everything else had to be pushed aside.
So I went about the work, walking through each step of the procedure in my mind, much like muscle memory. The moment I stepped into the operating room, it was as if I had flipped a switch. My hands were steady, my mind focused. And for a while, the chaos outside couldn’t touch me.
It was a good distraction, at least—the only one I had. The only thing strong enough to pull me out of my head, even if it was just for a few hours.
I had a laparoscopic cholecystectomy scheduled, a routine gallbladder removal, and it demanded enough focus to keep my thoughts from drifting.
The surgery went smoothly, and as always, I had to meet with the family to update them on the outcome. I was told they were waiting in the lounge by the lobby, so I headed down.
I found them quickly and shared the good news. Their relief and smiles never failed to remind me why I chose this path. Those moments were the reason I wanted to be a surgeon.
I was about to head back, weaving through the crowded lobby, when I heard my name.
I froze like cold water had been thrown over me.
It took a few seconds to realize I wasn’t imagining it.
She was really here.
Slowly, I turned toward the voice and saw Evie standing there with a nervous smile.
I didn’t move as she hurried over. When she reached me, I instinctively stepped back, putting space between us.
“What are you doing here, Evie?” I said under my breath.
She looked up at me, her expression hopeful, almost pleading. “You haven’t been answering my calls, Cam. I just want a chance to talk.”
“There’s nothing left to talk about, Evie. It’s over.”
But she didn’t back down. “Maybe we could grab a coffee?” she said. “Is there somewhere nearby we can sit and talk?”
“Evie.” I exhaled sharply. “I’m not getting coffee with you. This is my workplace. My siblings work here. My friends are here. And most importantly, Sloane is here.”
“Cameron,” she said, her voice unsteady. “I just need a few minutes to talk.”
God, this woman was shattered because of me. “Please, Evie,” I said softly. “Just let me go.”
Her eyes started to glisten, her lips trembling, and then, without warning, she stepped forward and slipped her arms around me, looking up at me with that heart-wrenching desperation.
I went still, caught completely off guard.
For a moment, I didn’t move. But then instinct kicked in, and I pushed myself back. Her arms dropped to her sides.
“Let it go, Evie. Please.”
I turned away, leaving her standing there. But I only made it a few steps before I saw Caroline in front of me, blocking my path. Her expression was livid, her eyes burning as she leaned to the side to catch a glimpse behind me.
“Is that her?” she hissed. “How dare you bring her here!”
“Car, I didn’t—”
But then she cut me off, her face suddenly draining of color.
“Oh, holy shit,” she whispered, eyes going wide. “Sloane’s following her.”
I turned so fast it nearly knocked the breath out of me—and there it was. Evie was rushing out the front entrance, and just behind her, Sloane was on her heels.