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“You are?”
I don’t think my mother and I have truly spoken about my fears, about what goes on inside me. There have always been mediators between us. Fourteen days away from home, and I see so many things in a different light.
“I went outside. I pushed myself to do it.”
“Please, go on.”
And I do. I tell her self-isolation doesn’t offer me as much comfort anymore and that there’s a growing need to function outside these walls, physical and imaginary. I even told her of my dreams to face my fears and have a life outside my self-imposed cage.
She encourages me, and it’s cleansing.
With the promise to keep in touch daily, I hang up.
I am not delusional enough to think it will be a quick and painless process, but I promise myself that I will be as strong as I know I am and try. Just try.
I start by creating order in chaos. I have to play long hours to keep up my rank, but I schedule a one-hour break to go outside and eat three meals a day. If I can respect that, maybe other changes will follow.
When it’s time for dinner, I go downstairs. Cameron has already seated himself in the mustard velvet chair.
We’re at a standstill—two strangers trapped together in a marriage, fully aware we have to make this work somehow. These dinners are a good place to start, and with all the time I spend alone, I look forward to our time together.
His shirt is unbuttoned at the top, revealing a patch of toned chest. He looks so male and handsome. Those plush lips tip into a hypnotic grin, and that silky brown hair is styled to perfection.
Pushing through, I take the seat next to him. His presence alone unnerves me, yet I take a few bites of soup.
“How was your day?”
I end up telling him about my newfound resolution, and he nods, offering me an encouraging smile that warms me from within.
“And yours?” I ask.
“Better now.” He winks at me, and that has my belly acting strange.
When we finish dinner, he glares at his watch, frustration clear in his knotted-up brows. I don’t have time to ask him what’s wrong when the front door opens and giggles erupt.
Cameron sighs. “They do whatever they want, but if it gets too much, just give me a sign and I will throw them out.”
My lips curl up on their own as if we’re in on a secret.
The women step inside and wave at me. Each one hugs Cameron, though Alessandra takes a bit longer. Strangely, he’s closer to her than to his own sister. Chiara takes the seat next to me.
“She tolerates his infuriating ass better, that’s why,” whispers Chiara, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
Aurora points at the dessert. “Oh my God, crème brûlée.”
“Sure, you’re not pregnant again?” Cameron jokes, and she rolls her eyes at him. Marie comes inside, wrapping up Aurora in her arms.
The women sit beside him, and Marie returns with three more dessert plates.
“Where is Aiden?” she asks Aurora.
“With his daddy.”
“I miss him.”
“You saw him yesterday.” Cameron points out. God, he’s insensitive.
After we finish the dessert, I hear the front door opening again. Two little girls scramble into the room, and I freeze in my chair. Cameron notices the panic simmering inside me, and he calls them over. He whispers something to them, and they both nod enthusiastically. I smile at him, but it fades when the guys enter the room.
