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“Look, I have to go,” I tell her. “I need to think. I need—”
“Of course. And I know this may mean nothing to you, but please know that you can call or come by any time. If you want to talk. If you want to yell at me. If you want a shoulder to cry on. I know I haven’t been here for most of your life, but I’m here now. If you need or want anything.”
It’s too much. It’s all too much and I don’t know what to do with it. So I just say, “yeah, okay. Thanks.” And then I hang up the phone.
I know it probably wasn’t the response she was looking for, know it probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But my hands are shaking and I’m pretty close to freaking out and even though she said a lot of the right things, I still don’t trust her. I still don’t know if I want her back in my life.
No matter how I feel about her, though, some of her words have definitely gotten through to me. About waiting until it’s too late or being too afraid to open myself up because I don’t want to get hurt. Because she’s right. Luc’s in waiting mode—I put him in waiting mode when I demanded that he give me time—and if I want to change that, I’m going to have to make the first move.
No matter how terrified I am.
No matter how much it might hurt.
And so I reach for my phone yet again. It’s been months since I’ve called him, but he’s still number one on my shortcuts list and the phone is ringing within seconds.
It rings once, twice, and in the space between those two rings I die a thousand deaths. I think about hanging up a hundred times. I think about throwing the phone out the window. I think about—
He answers on the third ring.
“Cam?” It’s only one word, but he sounds as shaky and wrecked as I feel.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
There’s a long pause while I curse myself for not working out exactly what I want to say. But the silence can’t go on forever, not when my heart is beating like a metronome on high and I feel like any wrong move will slash me to pieces.
So I take a deep breath, clear my throat, and say with a lot more confidence than I’m currently feeling, “do you have time to talk?”
“Always,” he answers. Then, “I’ve missed you.”
And I don’t get it. I don’t get how it can be so easy for him. How he can open himself up to me like that when I’ve already walked away from him twice. I’m trembling, can barely talk, am on the brink of losing it just from the stress of opening myself up to him and he just sits there, telling me that he’s missed me.
I’ve never felt so pathetic.
This won’t do. Not when I’m about to tell the man I love—the father of my baby—that I love him. Not when I’m about to ask if there’s any chance for us to build some kind of future together. Not when I’m about to ask if he loves me too.
So I square my shoulders, take a few deep breaths, and promise myself that no matter what happens, it’s going to be okay. I’m going to be okay and so is my baby. It’s exactly the boost I need.
“Can I see you?” I ask, and this time my voice is infinitely stronger, infinitely calmer.
“Of course. Come outside.”
“Outside?”
There’s a smile in his voice when he says “I may or may not be sitting on Z’s front porch trying to work up the nerve to ring the doorbell.”
It’s all the reassurance I need. I practically drop the phone in my headlong rush to the front door.
Chapter 20
Luc
She looks beautiful when she throws open the front door, her cheeks flushed and her long red curls springing out in all directions. For long seconds, I can’t do anything but stare at her, soaking her in after I’ve gone so, so long without her.
But the longer I look at her, the more I take notice of everything that’s just a little bit off. She’s skinnier than she was just a couple days ago. Beneath the hectic color on her cheeks, her skin is pale and nearly translucent. There are vivid purple shadows under her eyes.
And she’s shaking so badly that I’m not sure how she can stand up, let alone hold Z’s heavy front door open.
