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What would I have done? I imagined telling Cam and him not wanting the baby. I thought of the moment I told him I wanted to get rid of it and imagined if he would have agreed with me.
Vomit shot up the back of my throat and I swallowed convulsively, trying to keep it down.
I would have hated him. I would have walked away and never looked back.
“Cam’s lost everything before, Trix,” my mom said quietly.
“What?” The word came out as a croak.
“He lost his entire family when you two were kids, every single person. Casper and Farrah did a good job with him, they love him like their own and he loves them, too—but these babies are the only blood tie that Cam has, the family that he’s always wanted… and you threatened to take that from him.”
Her words hit me like a sledgehammer.
“Oh, God,” I whimpered, leaning forward to brace my elbows on my knees. “Oh, God. I was so scared, Mom. I knew that he’d never let me do it—that’s why I said it. I knew that he’d talk me out of it.” I turned my head to look at my mom’s shadowed face. “What if he never forgives me?”
“He will,” she replied softly.
“I’ve been so horrible to him.” My eyes watered and tears fell down my face into the short grass. “I felt so guilty, for so many things. I hated the way he’d looked at me, so I focused on that. I focused on how hurt I was that he’d been angry with me.”
“Your hormones are seriously messed up right now, Trix.”
“That doesn’t excuse it,” I sobbed, pulling my hand from hers so I could cover my face. “God, I didn’t want to be stuck with him. I wanted to be with him more than anything else, but I didn’t want to be trapped there.”
“You’re not making a whole lot of sense, baby.”
“I know!” I spat hysterically, surging to my feet as I pushed my hair away from my face. “Why am I so messed up? The nightmares just keep coming, and during the day, I’m afraid of my own fucking shadow! I’m so sick of it. I’m so sick of all of it.”
“So fix it,” my mom said, climbing to her feet.
“I don’t know how!”
“You could start with Cameron. Once that’s taken care of, we’ll do yoga or get you an appointment with that shrink.”
“But what if—”
“Don’t start with the what-ifs again, Trix.”
I nodded, looking toward the clubhouse again. She was right. I couldn’t deal in what-ifs anymore. I had two babies that needed me to get my shit together.
* * *
I didn’t dress up to go to the party, but I did fix my hair and put on some makeup. It felt foreign on my face, thick and annoying, but I knew if I didn’t try and cover up the evidence of my tears, people would ask questions. I hoped that they would mostly ignore me when I got there, but I wasn’t counting on it.
I’d barely spoken to anyone since the attack, so they’d kept their distance, but if I walked into a party, they’d automatically assume I was there to visit.
I walked quickly through the tall grass, clutching my envelope of ultrasound photographs in my hand. I couldn’t wait to show Cam our babies, even though my stomach was in one giant knot about the looming confrontation.
Would he ignore me? What if—no. No what-ifs. I needed to see him. He deserved that after the way I’d behaved. He deserved me going to him.
I waved at the brothers and their old ladies sitting at the picnic tables outside, and averted my eyes quickly from someone nailing a woman against the wall near the garage bays. I didn’t need to see that shit, especially if it was one of the men I’d viewed as an indulgent uncle growing up.
I caught my pop’s eyes as I entered the rowdy clubhouse, and his eyebrows rose in surprise. I shook my head at him, then glanced around the room, searching for Cam. I quickly found him, a pool stick in hand as he laughed with one of the younger guys. I think his name was Mack, though I’d never really talked to him.
I moved steadily through the room, giving small smiles to people who said hello. I didn’t want to stop and take the chance of Cam seeing me and leaving.
When I finally got to the pool tables, I froze, waiting for Cam to notice me.
“Trix,” he said roughly as he met my eyes. He looked away before I could reply, and leaned over the table to take his shot, as if I wasn’t standing just two feet away.
“Can we talk?” My voice trembled and I wanted to curse.
“No,” he replied emotionlessly as his pool stick hit the cue ball and knocked a striped ball into the pocket.
