Chasing Clouds

by Kathryn Andrews

  Traffic is light as I run across the street and into the coffee shop. It’s a local place, not part of a large chain, and all week I’ve been stopping in for their orange cold brew and biscuits. They are delicious.

  “Morning, Camille,” says the barista behind the counter. She’s smiling from ear to ear and my mood elevates even more.

  “Morning, Katie.” Five mornings a week, Katie opens the shop, and in the afternoons she takes classes for a master’s degree. Over this past week, we’ve talked a lot, and I’m pretty sure I’ve made my first friend in Tampa.

  “How was the party?” she asks, smoothing down her apron.

  “Amazing. Reid’s friends are so nice.” I pull my phone out and show her a picture Missy texted to me. That’s the other thing about Katie—football doesn’t interest her in the slightest, so she’s unimpressed by Reid and his friends.

  “That’s great! You look so beautiful, but then again, I knew you would. I’m glad you had a good time.” She knew I was worried about meeting so many people.

  “Me too.” I grin at her.

  “Want to try something different, or do you want the usual?” she asks, looking over at her pastry case.

  “The usual, thank you.” I wander to the end of the bar and sit down. Looking at the notifications on my phone, I see I’ve been tagged in a ton of photos showing up on Twitter and Instagram. I scroll through them and smile. There are so many great ones of Reid and me that the team photographer took, as well as some of me with the other wives and friends.

  I look relaxed, happy, and so does he. We really do make a striking couple. He’s so much larger than I am, and his dark features compliment my lighter ones. I wonder if he can get us copies of these so I can look back and remember this night later on.

  “All right. You’re all set.” She hands me the bag and the two drinks. A line has formed, so there’ll be no chatting today.

  “Same time same place tomorrow?” I ask.

  “I’ll be here.” She smiles and heads back to take the next order.

  Shuffling out the door, I wait for the light to change then cross the street to Reid’s building. I can’t stop smiling and I’m sure I look like a goof, but I don’t care. It won’t be long before my cheeks start hurting, but how can I not smile knowing what’s waiting for me upstairs?

  “Camille.”

  My smile immediately drops and my feet freeze on the sidewalk outside the entrance.

  No. No. No. This cannot be happening. My eyes have widened, although I’m looking at nothing, and I’m blinking as fast as I can. Dread like ice-cold water slips straight down my spine as I take in a deep breath and slowly turn around to come face-to-face with Patrick.

  Silence hangs between us as we stare at each other, the tension thickening so much it could be sliced.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him, feeling like my privacy has somehow been breached.

  “Actually, I think that’s a better question for you. What are you doing here?” he all but spits out. Patrick is wearing navy chino pants with a Vineyard Vines pullover. He doesn’t look out of place per se, but at the same time, he does. He doesn’t belong here.

  “How did you find me?” I ask, my voice shaking. I hate that he’s making me feel this way. Our relationship was never a bad one; we just never should have been an us. We weren’t meant to be, and secretly—well, maybe not so secretly—everyone knew it.

  He presses his lips together and looks away, not giving me an answer. The keys he’s holding in his hands jingle as he crosses his arms over his chest. I spot his BMW keychain, which tells me he drove here instead of flying. How long is he planning on staying?

  “You shouldn’t be here. You have no right to come here and bother me.” Whether he believes my marriage to Reid is real or not, this is Reid’s home, and technically we are on our honeymoon. He’s so in the wrong for tracking me down—how does he not see that?

  “I wouldn’t have to if you’d pick up your damn phone and talk to me!” he yells, and a few passersby glance our way.

  He’s so angry—angrier than I think I’ve ever seen him.

  My nose stings. I hate confrontation more than anything, and he knows this. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, and my go-to mode is to shut down, not engage.

  “I don’t want to talk to you—did you ever consider that?”

  His eyes narrow like they’re trying to bore a hole in me. We’re in a face-off, and it’s clear to anyone watching. Eventually, his gaze flicks down my body and he scowls. He doesn’t like what I’m wearing and is making his opinion known, but I don’t care. I don’t respond, defend, or move until finally Patrick loses his patience, takes a step toward me, and reaches for my arm. The only person I want touching me is Reid and I suck in air out of shock, quickly shuffle backward, and trip, dropping Reid’s coffee. The lid flies off on impact and hot liquid splashes all over me. Gasping at the burn, I instinctively bend over to try to wipe it off and rub my skin.

  “Camille—” Patrick bends down too.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” a voice comes from behind me. I turn around to find the lobby security guy glaring at Patrick. Over the last two weeks, this guy hasn’t spoken one word to me. He nods as I come and go, knows I’m here with Reid, and right now, I’m so grateful for him.

  Locking eyes with Patrick, I stand up and tell him the truth, “No, I’m not.”

  I frown, and Patrick does too. I’m not sure how he thought this little scenario was going to go, but it’s not going his way.

  “Camille, don’t do this. Please . . .” He puts his hands on his hips. “I’ll buy you another coffee, just come with me. You at least owe me a conversation.”

  “No, I don’t,” I whisper, thinking of the things I saw in the library, the things he said. Respect earns respect, and he hasn’t given me any in quite some time. Besides, I want to tell him I don’t owe anyone anything. The only person I owe anything to is myself.

  “Ma’am, why don’t you head on inside, and I’ll take care of this,” the security guard says, moving to stand closer to me.

  Without another word, without another glance, I turn around and walk through the doors of Reid’s building. From behind me, I hear Patrick yell, “This is bullshit,” and I pick up my pace.

  Why? Why is he here? Why can’t he leave me alone? With each floor the elevator passes, anxiety climbs and builds in my chest. I can’t get away fast enough knowing he’s just outside, and I can’t get to Reid fast enough, can’t have him by my side fast enough. My eyes blur with tears and I squeeze them shut while waiting for the doors to open.

  I’ll never be free.

  Running down the hall, I burst through the door, slam it shut, lock it, and lean back against it. Folding over into myself, I can’t catch my breath as silent sobs rack through my body and the tears finally drop from my eyes.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” Reid rushes over from somewhere nearby and pulls me into him. I’m stiff, I know it, but every muscle is locked tight and I can’t unwind them. “What happened?”

  He’s bare-chested, wearing only a pair of pajama pants, and I press my face into him as hard as I can to breathe in the clean scent of his skin. There’s panic in his movements as he runs his hands over me, looking for some type of injury, anything to explain my current state.

  “He f-found me,” I stutter.

  “What do you mean?” He wraps his arms all the way around me and squeezes protectively.

  “He was waiting for me outside. I went to get us some coffee and breakfast, and on my way back, there he was.”

  Reid stands a little taller, every muscle going rock-hard.

  Releasing me, he takes me in, quickly scanning me from head to toe, and pauses on the red marks on my skin from the hot coffee, which also splashed all over my clothes. His eyes narrow and his jaw tightens.

  “Did he hurt you?” His voice cracks as he asks me this.

  “No.” I shake my head.

  “Did he touch you at all?” His hands
tighten on my shoulders.

  “No.” I shake my head again then tell him exactly what happened outside.

  His eyes find mine, and they’re blazing green with a mixture of emotions. “Do you think he would ever hurt you?”

  I pause and think about the way Patrick was acting.

  “I don’t know. I’d like to say no, but then again, he’s never acted so crazy before. I don’t know why he would come here, or why he even thinks it’s okay to. When I’m ready to talk to him, I will. I’m not ready yet. Why doesn’t he understand that?”

  “I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head, displeasure painted across his handsome face.

  My eyes start to water again, and Reid pulls me back into him. I wrap my arms around his waist, and his chin settles on top of my head. My eyes fall shut. He’s so warm, and this warmth feels like security, safety. I’m incredibly thankful for him in this moment—hell, every moment.

  “Well, let’s hang out here for a while to make sure he’s gone, and then after lunch we’ll pack up and head somewhere else for a few days until we can figure out how to handle this, handle him. How does that sound?”

  “You don’t have to go with me—this is my mess.” I’m giving him an out if he wants to take it. I won’t be mad, definitely sad, but it is what it is.

  He pulls back to look down into my face and his hands wrap around my biceps. Brown hair falls over his forehead, and his cheeks are still tinged pink from outrage. “Absolutely not. Like it or not, for now you are my wife, and I take care of what’s mine.”

  The edge to his voice lets me know this isn’t up for discussion, and I let out a deep sigh. I’m not ready to leave him yet.

  “I hate that you’re having to do this. It’s such an inconvenience for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” His mouth quirks up on one side, giving me a lopsided smile. “We’re offseason right now, so as long as I’m still working out and checking in here and there, it’s fine. Do you have any idea where you’d like to go?”

  “Actually . . .” I let him go and walk into the kitchen to put the other items on the breakfast bar. He watches as I grab my phone and send off a text to Ali, my best friend from New York. She has a house somewhere near here, and as far as I know, it’s empty. I ask if we can stay there for a few days, and immediately three little dots appear. Her response comes in and I smile up at Reid.

  “How do you feel about the beach?”

  His eyebrows rise. “I like the beach.”

  I FEEL LIKE I’ve fallen into someone else’s life, like the things that are happening can’t really be happening to me. One moment I’m sitting in my condo, perfectly content with my team, my new contract, and my life. In the next moment I’m married to a gorgeous Southern girl and now we’re headed to Anna Maria Island.

  Once we decided we’d hide out at the beach for a while, we both set off to pack our things. It didn’t take us long, but I’m not going to lie—I needed a few minutes to collect my thoughts and calm myself down. I can’t believe that asshole came here, demanded time with her, and thought that was going to work. If she hadn’t been so worked up, it’s quite possible I would have grabbed Jack, gone down to the street, chased him down, and beat the shit out of him. I’ve had it.

  On our way out, we stopped and spoke with Blake, the security guard who helped her out. He assured me Patrick was on a watch list and I would be informed immediately if he ever came back. Although that doesn’t guarantee he won’t bother her, at least I know there are people here in the building looking out for her.

  “How do you think he found me?” she asks as we’re pulling out of my building in my car.

  “That’s a really good question.” I had been wondering that myself, and I look in my rearview and side mirrors to see if anyone is following us. Nope. Other than the day we went out to the festival and then Billy’s party last night, she hasn’t gone anywhere to be noticed. A walk here and there, yes, but with her hat and sunglasses, she’s kinda hard to recognize and blends in with the other twenty-something girls walking around.

  At that exact moment, her phone chimes with an incoming text, and my hands give my poor steering wheel a death grip. Leaning over, I read the message without asking.

  Patrick: When are you going to talk to me?

  This dude is relentless. I get that rejection sucks, but he had her and it’s his own fault he lost her. Enough is enough.

  “I think you need to block him. Better yet, let’s get you a new phone.” I peek a glance at her to see if I can gauge her reaction. She sucks her bottom lip in and looks down at her phone, considering the idea.

  “A new phone,” she mumbles. “Do you think he tracked me from my phone?”

  “I don’t know, maybe. Pictures of us being out last weekend have surfaced here and there, plus all the ones from last night. He was motivated to find you, so it was only a matter of time, but switch to airplane mode to be on the safe side, and let’s go get you a new phone.”

  “Okay, I think that sounds like a good idea.”

  An hour later, we’re pulling away from her mobile carrier’s storefront with her new phone on and set up with a new number, her old phone powered off, and we’re on our way. The drive down takes us less than an hour and a half. It’s far enough away that I don’t think we’ll be found, but close enough that I can run back to a meeting if I need to.

  Pulling up to her friend Ali’s house, it feels kind of strange to be staying here, but at the same time kind of awesome. Nate’s mentioned to me a little bit about Beau’s and his brother’s past, so I get that this town doesn’t evoke the greatest memories for them, but the house is charming, and looking over at Camille with her big excited eyes, I can tell she loves it.

  Climbing out of the car, I’m hit with the salty smell of the air and the sound of the water crashing on the shore. The sun has dropped in the sky, we’re just in time to see it set, and my feet start moving before my brain even has a chance to catch up.

  “Come on, let’s go!” I call over to Camille as she climbs out of the car and looks around.

  “Go where?”

  “To watch the sunset.” I shrug my shoulders and grin.

  Grabbing her hand, I pull her toward the wooden footpath that leads down to the beach.

  “The last time I went to the beach was when I was eighteen,” I tell her as we step down into the sand and walk closer to the water’s edge.

  “Really?” She looks up at me in surprise and I smile down at her.

  “Yep. It was right before I left for college, and I wanted to do something fun with Nate. So, we got on the train and went to Coney Island. He was thirteen, and it is one of the best days I remember with him.”

  Nate laughed so much that day. Mom had given me twenty dollars so we could grab some food and ride a few rides, and then randomly we found twenty-six dollars rolled up on the ground. It had to have fallen out of someone’s pocket, and we were over the moon—you would have thought we won the lottery.

  “Clare and I always went to Tybee Island. It’s just outside of Savannah. There’s a pier and a lighthouse, but not much to do there other than play on the beach. It can get a little touristy, but we didn’t mind.”

  As I wrap my arm around her, a quietness descends as we look out over the water. There are a few tiny clouds off in the distance, but it’s essentially a clear night as the orange ball of light makes its way toward the horizon.

  “Are you hungry?” I ask, tearing my eyes away to look down at Camille. The breeze coming off the gulf is blowing her hair around; it brushes my arm and feels like she’s stroking me with a feather.

  A giggle escapes her as she looks up at me, those blue eyes owning me, and it makes me happy to hear her laughing considering the terrible morning she had.

  “I haven’t thought about it much, but I’m not surprised you have—you eat all the time.”

  “And you don’t eat enough.” I grin at her. “Besides, I have to. This body is my paycheck. If something ha
ppens to it, well, then I’m out.”

  “I suppose. Have you thought about what you want to do after football?” She pulls a hair band from her pocket and whips her hair up into a knot on top of her head.

  “No.” I shake my head, reaching over to tuck a few stray pieces behind her ear.

  “Really?” Her eyebrows rise in surprise.

  “Absolutely not. For me there is no other option at the moment. I can’t jinx it, can’t allow any other thought of an alternative to enter the picture. I have to keep my eyes on the prize, and that’s playing football. This is my job until it isn’t. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

  “That sounds reasonable enough.” She smiles, understanding me. Bumping her hip against mine, she grasps my hand and we start walking.

  “Where are we going?” I look at the houses that dot the shoreline. None of them are overly large, like you’d find on other beaches in other cities, and that makes me like this place immediately. Each house is different, unique, and I could see myself feeling comfortable living in any of them.

  “Dinner.”

  As if it knows, my stomach growls on cue.

  “After I sent Ali my new number, she sent me back some suggestions for food and activities while we’re here. There’s a restaurant not too far away called The Beachside Cafe.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Just like her hand in mine is perfect, too. Shifting my fingers, I lace mine between hers.

  Walking up to the café, we see there’s a nice crowd inside and out. It seems a lot of people came out to watch the sunset and made their way here for some type of meal or snack.

  A bell rings over the door as we enter, and behind the counter, an older woman’s face lights up with a welcoming smile.

  “Come on in and grab a seat anywhere you like. I’ll be right over with menus.”

  We pick a table near the window and Camille falls silent as she sits and stares out at the gulf. The sun is at least half an hour away from setting, but the sky is already turning pretty shades of orange and pink.