I parked up the block and walked to her front door. I was about to ring the bell when a car turned the corner and headed down the street toward where I was standing. I stopped to look at it and had the eerie feeling that it was headed for Cammie’s. I had two options … I could walk back up the driveway and risk passing the car as it turned in, or I could slip around the side of the townhouse and wait. I chose the second option. Cammie had an end unit, and I stood with my back pressed to the side of her house, looking at the neighbors’ fence. The neighbors had a Yorkie. I could see it sniffing around the fence.
Yorkies were yappy dogs. If it caught sight of me, it would no doubt bark until someone came outside to see what was wrong.
The car turned into the driveway, just as I guessed. I heard a door slam and the shuffling of feet as they walked up to the door. It’s probably Cammie, I thought. Coming back from some guy’s house where she spent the night. It wasn’t Cammie. I heard two voices. One of them was Olivia’s; the other belonged to a man. I almost launched myself around the side of the house and toward her, when the front door opened and I heard Cammie squeal.
“You guys so had sex!” she said.
Olivia’s laugh was forced. The bastard — whoever he was — was laughing along with Cammie.
“It’s none of your goddamn business,” I heard Olivia snap. “Now, get out of my way. I have to get ready for class.”
Class! I felt myself slumping down the wall. Of course. She was in law school. She’d met a guy. Already. She wasn’t even thinking about me, and here I was driving thousands of miles to get her back.
What a f**king joke.
Cammie must have retreated back into the house, because I heard Olivia turn around at the door and thank him.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said. “Thanks for last night. I needed it.”
I heard the distinct sound of kissing before he walked back to his car and drove away. I stayed there for five more minutes, partially seething, partially hurting, partially feeling like a pathetic f**king ass, before I knocked on the door.
Cammie opened the door wearing nothing but a t-shirt with a picture of John Wayne on the front of it. She was holding a coffee mug, but she almost dropped it when she saw me. I lifted it from her limp hand and took a sip.
“Oh. My. God.”
She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her.
“I want to see her,” I said. “Now.”
“Are you crazy? Showing up here like this?”
“Go get her,” I said. I handed her coffee back, and she stared at me like I was asking her to give me an organ.
“No,” she said finally. “I’m not letting you do this to her again.”
“Do what?”
“Play games with her head,” she snapped. “She’s fine. She’s happy. She needs to be left alone.”
“She needs me, Cammie. She belongs with me.”
For a minute I thought she was going to slap me. She took a vicious sip of her coffee instead.
“Uh-uh.” She lifted one finger away from her cup and pointed it at me. “You’re a lying, cheating scumbag. She needs something better than you.”
I mentally backed up a step. That was true, mostly. But, I could be better for her. I could be what she needed, because I loved her.
“No one can love her like me,” I said. “Now, move aside, before I move you. Because I’m going in there-”
She considered this for a moment before stepping aside. “Fine,” she said.
I opened the door, took my first step into the foyer…
To my left was the kitchen and what looked like the living room, to my right was the stairs. I headed for the stairs. I was three up, when I heard Cammie call after me.
“She was pregnant, you know.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“After your little rendezvous under the moonlight.”
I looked back at her, my heart suddenly pounding wildly in my chest. My mind went to that night. I hadn’t used a condom. I hadn’t pulled out. I felt tingling all over my body. She was pregnant. Was … was … was …
“Was?”
Cammie pulled her lips tight and raised her eyebrows. What was she suggesting? I felt an ache start in my chest and spread outward. Why would she? How could she?
“It’s better that you leave her alone,” she said. “There isn’t just water under your bridge, there’s maggots and shit and dead bodies. Now, get the f**k out of my house before I call the police.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I was done. Done. Forever. Never again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We go back to the hotel and get ready for dinner. She showers first and then puts on her makeup and does her hair while I take my turn. So far we haven’t kissed. The only contact we’ve had was when we held hands earlier. I wait on the balcony while she gets dressed. When she comes out to tell me she’s ready, my eyes glaze over.
“You’re staring,” she says.
“Yeah…”
“You’re making me feel awkward.”
“You’re making me hard.”
Her mouth gapes.
“Naked feelings, Duchess! You’re in a tight black dress, and I know how good it feels to be inside you.”
Her face looks even more startled than a second ago. She spins to walk away, but I catch her and pull her against me.
“You’re wearing that dress simply because you like it. You don’t dress to make men look at you — you hate men. But, your body is ridiculous and it happens anyway. You walk and your hips sway from side to side, but you don’t walk that way to get attention, it’s just the way you move — and everyone looks. Everyone. And when you listen to people speak, you unconsciously bite your lower lip and then let your teeth slide across it. And when you order wine at dinner, you play with the stem of your wine glass. You run your fingers up and down. You are sex and you don’t even know it. Which makes you even sexier. So, when I think dirty thoughts, forgive me. I’m just under your spell like everyone else.”
She’s breathing hard when she nods. I let her go and lead her out of the room and to our minivan.
She has not lost her childlike awe. When she sees something that has never crossed her vision before, she becomes entranced — parted lips, wide eyes.
We step into the large foyer of the restaurant holding pinkies, and her speaking stills. To our left is the hostess stand, and in front of us the room opens up to two stories of red wall, decorated in gilded gold mirrors. It’s a spacious receptacle into the restaurant doors leading off into different directions, and her head swivels around to take it all in. The bulbs they use to light the room are red. Everything glows in red luminescence. The room reminds me of old class and sex.
Yorkies were yappy dogs. If it caught sight of me, it would no doubt bark until someone came outside to see what was wrong.
The car turned into the driveway, just as I guessed. I heard a door slam and the shuffling of feet as they walked up to the door. It’s probably Cammie, I thought. Coming back from some guy’s house where she spent the night. It wasn’t Cammie. I heard two voices. One of them was Olivia’s; the other belonged to a man. I almost launched myself around the side of the house and toward her, when the front door opened and I heard Cammie squeal.
“You guys so had sex!” she said.
Olivia’s laugh was forced. The bastard — whoever he was — was laughing along with Cammie.
“It’s none of your goddamn business,” I heard Olivia snap. “Now, get out of my way. I have to get ready for class.”
Class! I felt myself slumping down the wall. Of course. She was in law school. She’d met a guy. Already. She wasn’t even thinking about me, and here I was driving thousands of miles to get her back.
What a f**king joke.
Cammie must have retreated back into the house, because I heard Olivia turn around at the door and thank him.
“I’ll see you tonight,” she said. “Thanks for last night. I needed it.”
I heard the distinct sound of kissing before he walked back to his car and drove away. I stayed there for five more minutes, partially seething, partially hurting, partially feeling like a pathetic f**king ass, before I knocked on the door.
Cammie opened the door wearing nothing but a t-shirt with a picture of John Wayne on the front of it. She was holding a coffee mug, but she almost dropped it when she saw me. I lifted it from her limp hand and took a sip.
“Oh. My. God.”
She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her.
“I want to see her,” I said. “Now.”
“Are you crazy? Showing up here like this?”
“Go get her,” I said. I handed her coffee back, and she stared at me like I was asking her to give me an organ.
“No,” she said finally. “I’m not letting you do this to her again.”
“Do what?”
“Play games with her head,” she snapped. “She’s fine. She’s happy. She needs to be left alone.”
“She needs me, Cammie. She belongs with me.”
For a minute I thought she was going to slap me. She took a vicious sip of her coffee instead.
“Uh-uh.” She lifted one finger away from her cup and pointed it at me. “You’re a lying, cheating scumbag. She needs something better than you.”
I mentally backed up a step. That was true, mostly. But, I could be better for her. I could be what she needed, because I loved her.
“No one can love her like me,” I said. “Now, move aside, before I move you. Because I’m going in there-”
She considered this for a moment before stepping aside. “Fine,” she said.
I opened the door, took my first step into the foyer…
To my left was the kitchen and what looked like the living room, to my right was the stairs. I headed for the stairs. I was three up, when I heard Cammie call after me.
“She was pregnant, you know.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“After your little rendezvous under the moonlight.”
I looked back at her, my heart suddenly pounding wildly in my chest. My mind went to that night. I hadn’t used a condom. I hadn’t pulled out. I felt tingling all over my body. She was pregnant. Was … was … was …
“Was?”
Cammie pulled her lips tight and raised her eyebrows. What was she suggesting? I felt an ache start in my chest and spread outward. Why would she? How could she?
“It’s better that you leave her alone,” she said. “There isn’t just water under your bridge, there’s maggots and shit and dead bodies. Now, get the f**k out of my house before I call the police.”
She didn’t have to tell me twice. I was done. Done. Forever. Never again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
We go back to the hotel and get ready for dinner. She showers first and then puts on her makeup and does her hair while I take my turn. So far we haven’t kissed. The only contact we’ve had was when we held hands earlier. I wait on the balcony while she gets dressed. When she comes out to tell me she’s ready, my eyes glaze over.
“You’re staring,” she says.
“Yeah…”
“You’re making me feel awkward.”
“You’re making me hard.”
Her mouth gapes.
“Naked feelings, Duchess! You’re in a tight black dress, and I know how good it feels to be inside you.”
Her face looks even more startled than a second ago. She spins to walk away, but I catch her and pull her against me.
“You’re wearing that dress simply because you like it. You don’t dress to make men look at you — you hate men. But, your body is ridiculous and it happens anyway. You walk and your hips sway from side to side, but you don’t walk that way to get attention, it’s just the way you move — and everyone looks. Everyone. And when you listen to people speak, you unconsciously bite your lower lip and then let your teeth slide across it. And when you order wine at dinner, you play with the stem of your wine glass. You run your fingers up and down. You are sex and you don’t even know it. Which makes you even sexier. So, when I think dirty thoughts, forgive me. I’m just under your spell like everyone else.”
She’s breathing hard when she nods. I let her go and lead her out of the room and to our minivan.
She has not lost her childlike awe. When she sees something that has never crossed her vision before, she becomes entranced — parted lips, wide eyes.
We step into the large foyer of the restaurant holding pinkies, and her speaking stills. To our left is the hostess stand, and in front of us the room opens up to two stories of red wall, decorated in gilded gold mirrors. It’s a spacious receptacle into the restaurant doors leading off into different directions, and her head swivels around to take it all in. The bulbs they use to light the room are red. Everything glows in red luminescence. The room reminds me of old class and sex.
