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“Oh, shit,” I said. “What is it?”
“How? Are you psychic or something?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What aren’t you telling me? What aren’t you telling Trent?”
She leaned across the table, took my napkin, and held it to her face as she cried. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I, um … I was … pregnant. The doctor said it was likely that I lost it during or just after the wreck. He gave me two choices: to wait for a natural miscarriage or have a D&C. I decided not to hurt Trent further, so I opted for the D&C. And … he doesn’t know. He’ll never know.”
“What?” I asked, trying to process what she was saying. “You’re pregnant?”
“I was.”
I looked down at her stomach, unable to control the repulsed look on my face. I didn’t have kids and was an only child. The whole pregnancy thing was foreign to me. She was the first person I knew who was close to my age that was pregnant—or had been.
“Cami, you can’t keep this from him.”
She shook her head. “I can’t tell him, either. I can’t hurt him again. Not after Thomas.”
“But it wasn’t your fault, Cami. You can grieve together.”
“I’m”—her bottom lip trembled—“I’m not grieving. I’m relieved. We were in no position to have a baby.” She looked down, ashamed. “Maybe that’s what you’re sensing about me? That I’m selfish.”
I sat back in my seat. “You trying to carry this alone isn’t selfish at all. But it’s the wrong choice. You should tell him.”
“There was an infection after.” She shook her head. “There is a slim chance to none that I can ever get pregnant again. You want me to put all of that on him right now?” Camille dabbed her eyes with my napkin, my attempt at understanding making her emotional. “I don’t want to see that kind of hurt in his eyes. You know how much he loves Olive. He will be such a good dad, and I know he really wants that someday. He won’t leave me over it. It would devastate him if I left him over it. You tell me, what good would it do to tell him?”
“You’re okay now? No pain?”
She shook her head.
“You’re right. He wouldn’t leave you over it and wouldn’t want you to leave him. He loves you more than he wants kids. But he’d understand, Cami.” I sighed. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you not telling him because of what he’s been through, or because you’re not sure if it was his?”
A single tear fell down Camille’s cheek. “The last time Thomas and I were together like that was months before Trent. It wasn’t Thomas’s baby, Abby. Jesus.”
I covered my face for a moment. “God, I’m sorry. I’m … bad at this. Do you want a … a hug or something?”
Camille rolled her eyes. “No.”
I looked down at my hands, the guilt slowly settling in. She’d just told me she’d lost her and Trenton’s baby—my niece or nephew—and I was chatting with her about it as if it were something else to judge her for.
“Camille … I don’t think it’s you that’s the problem. I think you said it earlier. I’ve done a lot of shitty things to Travis. Maybe I don’t want to be the only one. Maybe I need to focus on your failings so I can ignore my own.” The moment I said it out loud, the cloud of anger I felt toward Camille lifted. “How far along were you?”
“Six weeks.”
“Pancakes with eggs over medium,” Shannon said, startling me.
I sat back, realizing I’d been sitting so far forward my chest was touching the table.
Shannon sat my plate in front of me, and then Camille’s. “Bacon … burned to a crisp.”
“Thank you,” Camille said, sniffing.
I carved my pancakes and then put a bite in my mouth.
Camille just picked at her crumbling bacon, touching tiny pieces on her finger to her tongue.
