“I don’t have a disease,” he snaps.
“Are you sure? How long have you been sleeping with other women? I thought you’d just been having affairs. I didn’t realize you’d been getting paid to do so!”
“No, you don’t need to be tested,” he says quietly. He waits a few seconds before he admits, “I’m tested regularly.”
“Well, that’s a relief. At least you’re safe with your own health.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he whispers, sounding offended and sad at the same time.
I sit quietly. I believe him. We had our problems, obviously, and he didn’t always put my needs first. But somehow, I believe him that he wouldn’t do that to me. Put me in a position where I need to worry about whether or not I got an STD from my ex-husband.
“You used condoms? With everyone?”
“Yes. And, as I said, I am tested. Often. Also, if you remember, it has been a while since we were together. A long while.”
Ahh. How could I forget. He made sure to throw it in my face during the mediation when he slipped from his firm I never slept with anyone else standing. He actually said, ‘Can you blame me? A man has needs.’ However, the fact that it’s been almost a year since I’ve felt the weight of a man on my body or making me feel wanted or needed, is probably the reason why I had a sexual dream about the resort owner last night when I finally fell asleep on the thin mattress. I’m so hard up, needing release that I’ll no doubt have to be a very active participant in some self-love soon. I can only hope I don’t close my eyes and see his face during the act. “You realize how many questions I have?”
He chuckles.
Actually chuckles!
The ass.
Now I’m laughing, too, because it’s all so damn ridiculous that if I don’t laugh, I’ll just scream or cry and I’m sick of doing that right now.
“I imagine you do. This is probably a dream come true for you. It’d give you years of writing material.”
“Damn right! I think you owe me after making me put up with you over the years. Though, this is quite a bit more than I ever imagined I’d have been putting up with. Seriously, what were you thinking?”
“Honestly? I really wasn’t. Or am not…”
“Am not.”
“Right.”
“You’re such a shit,” I say.
“Yeah. That’s probably accurate.”
I grin. Actually grin! And not at his expense! Because he’s being the Scott I first met and even though this situation is entirely day time talk show worthy, it’s one I no longer have to worry myself over. We’re divorced and he’s no longer my problem. Besides, It’s been a long time since I was able to laugh with him, even if he’s not currently laughing. He’s probably squirming in his briefs. Man, I hope he is.
I fell in love with Scott for a reason. It was years ago and many, many, many screw ups between then and now, but I do remember the love we once shared. Kind of.
We’d laugh for hours and stay up all night talking. At one point, we were the annoying no, I love you more couple. He has always been immature and pretty ridiculous. Kind of a douchebag but not in a sleezy douche way. He was always just Scott. Unapologetically. The guy who’d take and take and rarely give back but somehow it was okay because he never made promises that he didn’t follow through on. Never would he tell a friend he’d help them move and not show up. He’d just simply let them know he’d come see the house after the move was complete.
The more I think about it, though, the more our love was around me taking care of him. Something I’d done my entire life. I was used to being the caretaker. My dad was severely injured in a motorcycle accident when I was seven years old and my mother became a full-time nurse-wife-mom overnight while working as a dental assistant four and a half days a week. When I was fifteen, Dad passed away and my mom’s guilt over not doing enough — which she did — and missing him became too much for her to handle.
Her nights would be spent at bars and local sporting events, flirting with as many men who would give her attention and doing her best to feel like a woman again. But this meant that I would then need to take care of my younger siblings. Thus, my life was spent as a caretaker. I was menu planning, grocery shopping, cooking all our meals and packing lunches, checking homework and signing permission slips all while making sure that I was staying on the Honor Roll and trying to have a social life of my own.
I complained, for sure, because I was young and it wasn’t fair or normal. But I never minded, either. My brothers needed me and so did my mom. It wasn’t that she was a bad person. Not even in the slightest. She’d just lost her way for a bit and I was there to catch her as she fell.
After watching her drop everything and care for my father without hesitation after his accident left him without the use of his legs and extensive brain damage, being there for her and taking some of the burden that she had carried on her shoulders for so long was easy. It changed who I was and turned me into who I am today. A woman whose heart is in helping others.
“Cami? You still there?”
I startle at the sound of Scott’s voice through my phone. I had drifted away right along with my thoughts.
“Shit. Yes. I’m here. I was just thinking.”
“I’m surprised I didn’t hear you typing away as you write a new story about me.”
The corner of my mouth ticks up. It feels good to not yell at each other. We weren’t just husband and wife. At one point, we were friends, too. “I’ll get there. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”
“Aww. You still think I’m pretty?”
“Oh, whatever. So, tell me all the things.” I shimmy down farther into my chair and wrap my blanket around me tighter. I’m so cozy and comfortable. Warm coffee on the arm rest and an excited tremor rolls through my stomach like a bucket of butterflies were just let loose. Just the thought of some juicy gossip that could turn into book research has my heart racing. “How’d you get started? What is it you do? What type of women do you take out? Do you sleep with them? What’s with this porn addiction you clearly have? Do you wear leopard print thongs and dance around for these people? Have men ever called you up for your escort services? Oh my gosh! Have you had to do it with a guy? Are you bisexual now? Have you always been?”
“Shit, Cami, what the hell?” His voice holds equal parts humor and annoyance, meanwhile my voice picked up in speed with every question I asked. I’m so curious. Now that I know — and I do know, even though most would question why I trust him — that I am not in danger of having an STD from him.
“Hey. You’re the one not smart enough to use a different password for your online banking or even use a different bank.”
“Well, excuse me for assuming that you weren’t that nosey. You shouldn’t have been snooping.”
I roll my eyes. “Pssh. Like you wouldn’t have done the exact same if I’d have been the one to text you asking for money.”
“Touché.” He laughs deep and hardy and I wonder if that means he’s been trying to snoop in my banking as well. Joke’s on him. I’m smarter and changed all passwords so he wouldn’t have access.
“And, hello! Of course I’m that nosey. Did you just meet me?”
“You’re right. Like usual.”
“You’re seriously not going to give me any writing material? Scott. Come on! You owe me. And this? It’s gold! If you don’t start talking, I’ll just make it up. You know how big my imagination is.” I’m practically bouncing in my seat so excited. Snow flurries start to drift down from the sky and there’s a dampness in the air that tells me we’ll be seeing more than just flurries soon.
“Like you won’t make it up anyway.”
“It would be better if it was one of those “Based on true events” deals.”
“You’re insane.”
“I was married to you for eight years. That’s been established.” I make a zinging noise to drive home the fact that I think I just sent a zinger his way and then slurp reall
y loudly from my coffee cup.
He barks out a laugh. “Boy, what’s gotten into you?”
I shrug, feeling light and happy. Sipping coffee, staring out at one of the most beautiful landscapes I’ve ever seen, toasty warm from the space heater, he’s right. Something has definitely gotten into me.
This place.
Already.
“Well, this has been fun.”
“It has, hasn’t it? It would be more fun if you’d tell me all the details.”
“Maybe we can work something out.”
I roll my eyes. “Let me guess. For money? Seriously, Scott. What the heck are you doing with it? And why?”
“Desperation. Why else?”
“I don’t know. You think with your wiener a lot. I figured that’s what happened here, too.”
Again with the silence. Does he not realize that tells me all I need to know?
“How much are you asking me for?”
“I don’t know. Couple grand oughta do,” he mutters.
Now it’s my turn for silence. “A couple grand? You think I just have that much lying around?”
“You don’t?”
That’s not the point. Why would I give him a few thousand dollars?
“It’s not really your business whether I have the money or not. The key to that sentence,” I tell him, starting to get angry, “is that it’s my money.”
“If I explain the whole male escort thing to you, would you give it to me?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He scoffs, not believing me.
“Of the two of us, I’m not the liar,” I remind him.
“Ouch.”
“Right.” I hear a knock on my door and those butterflies that were in my stomach earlier just from thinking of writing again multiply tenfold knowing who’s on the other side. “Scott, I need to go.”
“What? Why? Where even are you?”
“I escaped,” I say cheekily. He isn’t a good enough detective to decipher my meaning. No one knows where I am except my mom. I wanted her to know in case there was an emergency. Contrary to how she was as a mother, she’s one of the best Nanas in the world. She pulled her head out of her ass after I graduated college and she realized what a crazy four years it had been for me to have to stay living at home while commuting back and forth just so I could take care of everything at home.
“Cami? You okay?” I hear Owen shout and fling off the blanket and crawl out of the chair. There really isn’t an easy way to get in and out of it but dang is it comfortable. Worth it.
“Coming! Coming!”
I stub my toe on the leg of one of the kitchen chairs as I run past and let out a muffled curse. “What is going on? Who are you talking to?” Scott demands to know.
“No one.”
“Now who’s the liar.”
“And here I thought you were a shitty detective,” I say when I get to the door. “I gotta go, okay?”
“Wait! There’s something else!”
“What is it?” I snap and open the door. No use in trying to hide my baggage of crazy. But holy crap. He’s got a baby strapped to his chest and one on his back. He’s double baby-ing looking like a mountain man with his scruffy beard that has little snowflakes melting on it and the kids are bundled up with rosy cheeks and yup, my ovaries just exploded all around us.
I know I’m staring like a goon. Probably with my mouth hanging open and drool escaping. My ex-husband keeps saying my name in my ear and it snaps me back to the present enough to lift a hand and point to the phone, mouthing the word sorry and rolling my eyes. He gives me a funny look then laughs when I make a he won’t shut up gesture with my hand.
He chuckles and the sound hits me right in the place that’s been sadly ignored for oh so very long. He’s standing in front of me as if I’m not currently fighting a battle inside over whether or not I should attack the poor guy, smooshing a baby between us, and kiss all over his sexy face. But seriously, come on! Who could blame me!
Let me repeat it for you.
He has a baby strapped to his chest AND one on his back. He’s sexy without the babies. With? I’m helpless. I have no power against his crooked grin and the way his hand is resting softly on the top of his niece’s stocking hat covered head. Especially when he bends his head to kiss the top of hers, those chubby little legs kicking happily. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. Your uncle is a hottie.
“Cami!”
“Huh?”
“I’ve been saying your name for like three minutes. Are you okay? Who’s at the door? I thought I heard a man’s voice. I thought you’d escaped or whatever. Are you with a guy? Are you dating? Since when? Isn’t it a little soon? We just got divorced!”
His questions fire in rapid succession and Owen’s eyes narrow on my phone. Scott’s talking so loudly that I’m sure he heard every single one of them.
“Scott, I need to go.” I hang up to the sound of his protests then silence my phone when it immediately starts ringing.
“Hey. What’s up?” I ask Owen, pretending I wasn’t just lusting over him or having a heated conversation with my ex-husband over the fact that I just learned he’s a hooker.
“Everything okay?”
“Sure is.” I want to add, now that you’re here because just looking at him brings me a peace I haven’t known since before my dad passed away. But I just met the guy. That’s a little crazy and even I’m not that level of crazy.
The corner of his mouth ticks up in a cute little half smile and he points to me. “Want to go for a walk? We’re supposed to get some snow today and I figured it’d be good for the kids to get some fresh air before we were stranded for a while.”
“Stranded?”
“Well, not stranded, stranded.” He thinks for a second then chuckles. “But well, yes. Stranded. At least nine inches is supposed to be heading our way so we’ll be here for a few days until the roads get cleared up.”
I gesture for him to come inside my humble abode and he does, shutting the door behind him and bouncing a little with the kids strapped to him. The space is small without him. With? It feels teeny tiny. I wrap my arms around myself. “Um, is that okay? Do we need to leave? Hunker down or go get supplies? That doesn’t sound good. Nine inches is a lot!”
“We’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”
I stick out my hand. “Hi, I’m Cami. I’ve never been in a snowstorm before and I worry if there’s a new freckle on my forehead.”
He humors me by shaking my hand and returning with, “I’m Owen. I’ve been in about a gazillion snowstorms. Trust me. We’ll be fine.”
Something in the way he says we’ll makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.
“Isn’t it a little cold for the kids?”
He shakes his head and turns so I have a better look at Brody, who’s in a snowsuit, cheeks a little rosy from the cold but a smile that would brighten up his face even if it wasn’t cold. He reaches over to me and I take his mitten-covered hand in mine. “Hey, buddy.”
“Hi.” His voice is high-pitched and happy and everything that is good in the world.
I aww and almost crumble from the adorableness. “Okay. He’s too cute to say no to. Let me just get some more clothes on and I’ll join y’all.”
He chuckles. “I forgot that you’re from Tennessee. You don’t have much of an accent but then you throw out words like y’all.”
I grin. He’s not the first person who’s questioned whether or not I’m a Tennessee-native. I can dip pretty deep into the twangy accent if I want to, but I sound more like I’m from the Midwest with a slight hint of the south.
I affect the most southern voice I can and say, “Aww, bless your heart. Aren’t you just a peach for saying that.”
“There’s that southern attitude I was looking for.”
I make a big show of curtsying and he throws his head back and laughs. It’s a loud, deep sound that I like far too much.
“I’ll be right back. Give me a few minutes.”
I hustle off to the bedroom and close the door as I riffle through my clothes until I come up with some heavy leggings and a pair of boyfriend style jeans that are a little big and can fit over them. I whip off my flannel pajamas, let my hair down from the messy bun, then throw on a long sleeve t-shirt and a hoodie under my winter jacket and cover my head with a mustard yellow beanie and my hands in the matching gloves. I slide my feet into the new snow boots I bought before coming up here. They’re more of a fashion statement than anything but they’ll keep me warm and they’re also surprisingly comfortable.
I’m practically sweating in the warm cabin by the time I’m dressed but I know outside I’ll be glad for the extra layers. I’ve been here for less than twenty-four hours but I already understand that Northern Minnesota winters are no joke. The wind is harsh, the air is damp with the constant threat of snow that hangs in the air, and the cold is bitter — one that goes down to your bones and makes it a little hard to get warmed up from. It’s a chill I was expecting but also surprised by.
When I get back into the living area, I’m greeted with the glorious sight of Owen’s butt sticking up in the air as he bends over to turn off the space heater. The kids are giggling as he jiggles around with both of them still strapped to him.
I give myself exactly one second to stare but only because he’s already standing up and turning around. If I’d have had the choice, it’d have taken him much longer to do the simple task of turning off the space heater and I’d been able to take a lot longer to enjoy the view.
“I hope it’s okay I used that.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just make sure you’re turning it off when you’re not using it. It has some age to it and I’m not sure how safe it is.”
“I will.”
“Ready?”
“I am.”
He walks in front of me and opens the door and closes it behind us.
Chapter Seven
Cami
“They’ll be okay?” I ask again.
“They will.” He doesn’t say anything else, just sure that they’ll be warm enough and I figure it’s best to trust him.
Staying For You Page 6
