by Kate Stacy
Frustration builds as soon as I see the number is unavailable.
The wrong number text I got last week was the first of many.
While the messages sometimes seem personal, like the one that said, “I’ve been thinking about you lately,” there’s nothing to indicate who’s sending them. Nothing to tell me that the person even really knows who I am.
The messages get ignored. I delete them without responding, figuring the person would get bored and find someone else to bother. When that didn’t work, I blocked the number to put an end to it. It was more of an annoyance than anything. Unfortunately, it was only a temporary solution. Texts started coming in from a different local number, which immediately pissed me off. My first instinct was to respond to whoever was sending the texts and tell them to fuck off, but I simply blocked that number too.
If the texts weren’t bad enough, I started getting calls from blocked numbers. I never answer my phone unless it’s someone I know, so the calls have gone unanswered, but they’ve yet to stop. I get a couple a day, usually back to back. The texts keep coming in too. Case in point, the current one sitting in my inbox.
I thought about telling Ryan to see if there’s anything I can do legally, but he has more important things to do with his time than deal with some idiot who has nothing better to do than text random people to get a rise out of them.
I tap the screen to delete the text, accidentally opening it instead.
You can’t ignore me forever, Cami.
A shiver races down my spine.
My name.
They used my fucking name.
Another text appears on the screen.
You’re even prettier than you were in high school. I’ve always loved that color on you.
I read the words and gasp.
The little hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up, a tingling sensation creeping over my skin.
I jerk my head up and look around, eyes darting in every direction to see if I can spot someone watching me. It’s no use. There are people everywhere. Teachers. Parents. Kids. No one stands out from the crowd. No one looks out of place. No one seems to be looking in my direction.
My heart thumps heavily in my chest, skin prickling with sensation, the overwhelming thought of someone watching me. God, it’s like I can feel someone’s eyes on me. I’m officially creeped the fuck out. As if they sense my tension, the babies start kicking and moving around. I rub my belly to calm them, or maybe just to calm myself.
I don’t know who’s sending these messages, but it’s impossible now to pretend the sender doesn’t know me.
The passenger door opens, and I almost jump right out of my skin.
I palm my chest and try to slow my breath, to calm my racing heart. I’m pretty sure I just peed myself a little.
Hannah ducks into the car, gets comfortable, and buckles her seatbelt. I try to pull myself together, but I don’t do it fast enough.
“Are you okay, Cami?” Her eyes roam over me, looking to see if she can find some reason for my reaction.
“I’m fine, hon.” Forcing a laugh, I shake it off. “I was spaced out. You caught me off guard, that’s all.”
She doesn’t believe me—if the look on her face is any indication—but she lets it go.
Picking up my phone from my lap where I must have dropped it, I delete the texts and block the number. After a quick message to Ryan, I drop my phone and turn my attention back to Hannah.
“Looks like it’s just us girls until your dad gets off work. What do you wanna do?”
“You could take me to the salon and color my hair.”
She’s been trying to talk Ryan into letting her color her hair purple for over a month now. So far, she hasn’t had any luck convincing him.
“Ha! Nice try. Fairly sure your dad would kill me.”
She lifts a shoulder. “It was worth a shot.”
Genuinely smiling now, I tell her, “I have some temporary colors that come out after a few washes. If you can get your dad to agree, I’ll give you some chunky streaks, or maybe we could color your tips.”
Eyes wide, she bounces in the seat.
“Only if your dad agrees. Deal?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
This girl kills me. Laughing at her adorable excitement, I put the car in gear and follow the line of slowly moving cars in front of me.
“Now, what do you really wanna do?”
“Hmm.” Glancing over at her, I see she’s running her thumb over her lower lip. Ryan does the exact same thing when he’s thinking. It makes me smile. “I’m hungry. Can we get tacos?”
“Oh girllll. You’re speaking my language! I’ll never say no to tacos.”
Hitting my turn signal, I head toward my brother’s bar because they’ve got the best tacos in town.
Making the change from a bar to a bar and grill was one of the smartest things Holden and Jaxson have ever done. It’s still a local hangout in the late hours for the drinking crowd, but it’s a family-friendly place from lunch until dinner. Of course, it helps that Henley is a genius in the kitchen. Hiring her to create their menu and run the kitchen was probably the guys’ second smartest decision. I could eat there every day and never tire of the delicious menu options.
Knowing I don’t care, Hannah connects her phone to the bluetooth in my car. Music fills the speakers and I laugh under my breath. She has a serious obsession with K-pop and has been trying to get me into it for the past few weeks. I’ve yet to admit to her that some of the songs I’ve heard her play kinda make me want to dance, and the song currently playing is one I actually really like (especially the parts I can actually understand). When it gets to Halsey’s part of BTS’s Boy With Luv, I turn up the volume and belt out the lyrics, shocking the hell out of Hannah.
She gasps, pointing a finger at me. “I knew it! You’ve been holding out on me!”
I toss her a wink and we both sing our hearts out the whole way to 80 Proof.
NINETEEN
Camille
I’m having Ryan’s babies, so meeting his parents was a foregone conclusion.
Earlier this week—when he met up with us at the bar and grill the day I picked Hannah up from school—he asked me how I’d feel about having dinner with them. At the time, I thought it was a good idea. I was perfectly happy to have dinner with the people who will be my children’s other set of grandparents.
Now that we’re pulling up in his parents’ driveway—I’m feeling apprehensive.
What’s his mother going to think of me? I’m some random girl that met her son in a bar, hooked up with him, and got knocked up. She can’t possibly have a good opinion of me. What if she thinks I’m a bad role model for Hannah? If she doesn’t like me, will it affect mine and Ryan’s relationship?
“Camille.” He palms my jaw, turning my head so he can look me in the eyes. “Don’t worry so much.”
“How do you do that?” I ask.
He has this uncanny way of knowing when I’m overthinking everything, driving myself utterly insane.
Rather than answer my question, he leans over the center console, frames my face with his strong hands, and gives me one of those deep, raw kisses that leave me stupid.
He pulls back, only a breath away from my lips. “Let’s go meet my mom, yeah?”
All I can do is nod.
Ryan chuckles, a small smile playing across his lips.
His mom practically pounces on me the minute he ushers me through the front door. Holding me at arm’s length by my shoulders, I’m frozen in place as she inspects me from head to toe.
“Ryan wasn’t lying! You are absolutely beautiful and you’re glowing!” She smiles, tears swimming in her eyes. “Can I hug you?”
Wide-eyed, I nod my permission because what else can I do?
She wraps me in a hug, squeezing me so tightly I’m surprised my eyes don’t pop out of my head. I do the polite thing and return her hug, awkwardly patt
ing her on the back.
Ryan stands behind her, unsuccessfully trying to hide his amusement.
I hear the slide of a door, followed by Hannah’s voice.
“Cami! You’re here!”
Her interruption allows me to free myself from his mother’s crushing hold.
She swats at her cheeks, wiping away the tears that have escaped. “Goodness.” She laughs. “I’m sorry. I’m just so excited to meet you!”
Ryan moves toward me, pulling me to his side. I lean into him, grateful for the save. His mom looked like she was ready to hug me again. Her exuberance isn’t something I’m used to. My family is loving and touchy-feely, but this woman is still a stranger to me. This whole situation is a little overwhelming. I fully expected this woman to hold some type of animosity toward me, but there’s none to be found. She’s sweet and wholesome.
I’m not sure what I pictured when I thought of Ryan’s mom, but the petite woman in front of me isn’t it. She stands at least half a foot shorter than my five-seven frame. Her golden hair is cut in a trendy, angled bob. She’s slender, which only makes her appear more petite. She could pass as Ryan’s sister, if I’m being honest. The one thing that truly stands out are her eyes. They’re identical to Ryan’s, vibrant, intense, and unquestionably beautiful.
“Camille, this crazy woman is my mom, Julia.” She smacks his arm, but his tone is playful, full of love for the woman standing in front of us. “The quiet guy over there is my stepdad, Jefferson.”
Jefferson nods politely, obviously not a man of many words. He’s tall, around the same height as Ryan, and quite handsome. He’s muscled, but not bulky. The only hint of his age is the peppering of silver in his thick, dark beard, and a touch at his temples. His stern face masks what I’m sure is a kind disposition. I see a hint of it when Hannah pushes past him to get to me.
“It’s nice to meet you both.” I say genuinely.
Before anyone else can speak, Hannah cuts in. “Come outside with me,” she says, tugging my arm.
I offer no protest, following eagerly as I laugh, leaving everyone behind with a helpless shrug.
Ryan and his parents follow close behind as we make our way outside.
Hannah opens the sliding glass door, releasing me as I step out into a backyard paradise.
I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place for entertaining.
To my right, in a gorgeous combination of wood and stone, is a large, covered seating area that takes up half of the ground-level deck. Stylish, plush outdoor furniture fills the space, creating an inviting place to relax. The other half of the deck remains empty, except for a few potted plants. I move forward, taking the two steps down from the deck to the gorgeous stone patio. A large built-in fire pit sits off to the left, surrounded by a low, stone half-circle wall that provides seating around the pit. Movement to my right steals my attention, turning my gaze toward an impressive outdoor kitchen area and the back side of an even more impressive man.
“Uncle Adam! Cami’s here!”
He turns around at Hannah’s excited voice and if I thought he was impressive from behind...good God. This man is the definition of a tall, dark, and handsome bad boy. All muscles, ink, and swagger.
Maybe I should feel bad about checking out Ryan’s best friend but give me a break—I’m only human. It’s not like I plan on flirting with him. He’s more Madalyn’s type, but she has Jaxson, so it’s irrelevant. Maybe he’s Presley’s type. I honestly don’t know. I’ve never seen her with a guy.
He sees Hannah first and smiles. His eyes move to me, widening for a split second before he schools his features. Meeting us halfway, he pulls Hannah to his side.
“Hey, Cami. I’m Adam. This one’s uncle,” he says, squeezing her, “and that one’s best friend.” He tips his head towards Ryan.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, though the way he’s staring at me is unnerving. I shift my feet, trying to think of something else to say to him so my discomfort doesn’t show. Adam beats me to it.
“I kinda thought Ryan was fucking with me when he said you were a triplet.” He chuckles. “Thought you were your sister there for a minute.”
My head jerks back. “You know one of my sisters?”
“Madalyn. Inked her a while back.”
“Oh! I remember her telling me about you. You offered to cover her scars. She tried calling you about six months after that, but the number was no good.”
Something dark flashes in his eyes. “Fuck. I had to change my number. Long story. Let her know I’m back in town, yeah? I’ll hook her up.” His gaze drifts behind me right as Ryan’s arms wrap around me, hands moving to rest on my belly.
He kisses my neck, just below my ear. “I see you met my girl.”
Adam nods, looking back at me. Distracted by Ryan’s touch, it takes me a second to remember he was talking to me.
“Yeah. I’ll let her know for sure. It’ll have to wait until after she has the baby, though.”
Shaking his head and laughing quietly, he turns back toward the massive grill. I barely hear him mutter about there being something in the water. He looks back with a shit-eating grin and winks.
“He must like you,” Ryan murmurs in my ear. I tilt my head up to look at him, brow raised in question. “He’s usually quiet, kinda standoff-ish with people he doesn’t know.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, so I say nothing.
Ryan leads me to an oversized picnic-style dining table, insisting I get off my feet and rest while everyone else works to get dinner on the table. I offer to help, but every time, someone shoos me back to my seat. By the time they get all the food to the table, there’s a steady rumbling in my stomach. There’s enough food to feed an army and I feel like I could eat half of it. Ryan notices me eyeing the food and laughs.
Everyone’s quick to dig in, so I follow suit, fixing my plate with a little of everything.
I like Ryan’s family.
It’s easy to see that they’re a close-knit group, kind of like mine. I fit right in, like I’ve always been a part of it. It’s a really good feeling.
Conversation flows over dinner. Julia asks me plenty of questions about myself and my family. I learn more about theirs. Adam is Hannah’s uncle by blood. His younger sister is Hannah’s mom. Adam and Ryan’s moms were lifelong best friends, so the kids all grew up together. When Adam’s mom passed away, Julia took in Adam and Elena to keep them out of the system. From what I understand, this was when Ryan and Adam were both seventeen. That means Ryan and Elena were already dating at the time.
I don’t have an issue hearing about Hannah’s mother, I know the woman exists. I am uncomfortable learning that she’s so closely entwined with everyone in Ryan’s life. He told me about her, but never mentioned her being his best friend’s sister. It doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but I would have liked to have known before meeting his family. I think my surprise at hearing these details made everyone else a little uncomfortable, too.
I can’t help but wonder how Adam feels about me taking his sister’s place in Ryan’s life. Would he rather she be sitting at this table right now instead of me? I know Ryan’s history with her and how he feels, but now I worry about his best friend judging me and finding me lacking. I know Ryan said he must like me, but now I’m not sure I believe it.
If the awkward tension I’ve caused isn’t bad enough, my phone chimes with a text and I stiffen. It’s become an instinctive reaction since the other day when it became obvious that the messages aren’t random.
I hesitate to check the notification.
I don’t want to see if it’s another creepy text.
After a minute, I cave and pull out my phone. I can’t ignore it just in case it’s something about Madalyn. She’s nearing the end of her pregnancy and I’d hate to miss anything because I’m afraid of words on a screen.
Come out, come out, wherever you are.
I try not to react, turning off the
screen and slipping my phone back into my purse.
Ryan leans over to ask me if I’m okay, so I must not have hidden my reaction well.
“Fine,” I say quickly. “I’m a little queasy. The babies must not like something I ate.”
I play it off, not wanting to talk about it here. I need to tell him about the texts to see if there’s anything I can do about them, but this isn’t the time or place for that conversation.
He asks me if I want him to take me home, but I promise him I’m all right. He’s having a good time with his family and I don’t want to ruin it.
I try hard to enjoy the rest of dinner. Despite my earlier tension and worry over that stupid text, I was having a good time. I push my food around my plate, unable to eat another bite. At least the excuse I gave him gives me a reason to not finish eating. The part about me being queasy wasn’t a lie. I’ve lost my appetite and what I did manage to eat before I got the text threatens to come back up.
I manage to follow the conversation, but don’t add much to it myself. I answer questions and smile, but it’s forced. Thankfully, no one seems to notice.
They shouldn’t.
I have years of experience faking it.
TWENTY
Ryan
Camille has been acting strange.
At first, I thought I was imagining things.
I know all the talk about Elena during dinner at my parents’ last week made her uncomfortable. I wasn’t the only one who noticed, but I mostly brushed it off because I know it can be awkward when exes are brought into current conversations.
I can’t, however, ignore the way her entire demeanor changed when she got that text.
She played it off as morning sickness, not knowing I saw her slip her phone into her bag. Whatever was on the screen made her face drain of color, immediately setting me on alert. I wanted to push. I wanted to insist she tell me what was really wrong. I wanted her to open up to me, to let me in, to be honest with me. It wasn’t a simple case of nausea. It was that fucking text. I hate how it affected her. The forced smiles. The way she kept drifting away from the conversation. Pushing the food around her plate, not finishing the meal she was clearly enjoying before she looked at her phone.
