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On my way to the front door, I check the doorbell app on my phone. Cal paces the front porch. He switches from stuffing his hands into his front pockets to running them through his messy hair to assessing the wood planks on the porch—all in a single minute. I’m not sure whether his ADHD or anxiety is to blame for all the sudden movements, but damn, he can’t stand still to save his life.
As much as I resent the idea of speaking to Cal after yesterday, I have to give him credit for showing up this morning bright and early, seeking answers. He gains an ounce of respect from me.
Maybe he cares after all.
I’m quick to shove the thought out of my mind. Him showing up today has nothing to do with me and everything to do with finding out who Cami’s father is. He probably wouldn’t even be here if I hadn’t left things the way I did last night. Since I chose to avoid dealing with Cal and the emotions he stirred up, this is my consequence. It wasn’t my most mature moment, but I had no idea how to handle him thinking I would have sex with someone so soon after we broke up.
I know we only dated for a few months, but they meant everything to me. And for a time, I thought he felt the same way.
Should have known better.
Although I’m tempted to leave him out there for a few more minutes so he can stew in his thoughts, I might as well put us both out of our misery.
His lips moving soundlessly catches my attention, and I raise the volume on the app loud enough that I can hear him.
“What if I suck at being a parent?” he asks himself.
“Well, it’s not like you can be any worse than your father,” he replies to himself.
“He’s a narcissistic psychopath. The bar wasn’t set very high to begin with.”
I don’t want to find him endearing—not even in the slightest—yet I find my lips curving upward at the sight of him having a full-blown conversation with himself.
Why are you smiling at him of all people?
The thought is sobering, and I lock my phone to avoid stealing another glance at him.
I roll my shoulders back before opening the door. Cal looks up at the sound of the creaking hinges, revealing his red-rimmed eyes and haggard appearance. I’d put money on the fact that he is most likely hungover rather than sleep-deprived like me. It’s obvious in the way he winces at the bright light hanging above me, illuminating the entryway.
My nails bite into my palms at the evidence of his addiction.
Not your problem.
Then why does the piercing pain in my chest intensify at the thought of him continuing to suffer through his life?
“We need to talk,” he blurts out.
I check to make sure Cami isn’t sneaking around the corner before shutting the door behind me. “Right now?”
“Yes, right now. I would’ve wanted to have this conversation last night, but someone kicked me out before we had a chance to clear something up.”
A sigh slips out of me before I have a chance to squash it. “All right.” I crack the door open. “Cami! I’m going to grab the mail, so I’ll be back in a few minutes!” My voice echoes off the high ceilings.
She shouts her reply, but it comes out muffled, most likely due to her stuffing her mouth full of pancakes.
“Do I really only get a few minutes for a conversation like this?”
“I can’t leave her alone for long. Last time when I was working outside, she stole my mascara and ended up with an infection after stabbing her eye.”
“Okay.” He doesn’t so much as crack a smile, which is unusual for him.
He’s nervous.Without him having a drink to ease his anxiety, the truth is glaringly obvious as we walk to the mailbox in silence. The mansion looms behind us, casting a massive shadow over the overgrown front lawn, making the estate look even larger than its fourteen-thousand square feet.
Part of me wishes he would take over the conversation and force the answer out of me, but his lips remain tightly pressed together while I grab the mail.
What are you waiting for? Just tell him the truth.
That’s the thing. I’m not sure how to go about doing that without having a breakdown about my sister. No matter how much time has passed, I still can’t speak about Antonella without getting teary-eyed or spitting mad. I hope there is a day when I can think back on our memories and smile.
