Chasing Love's Wings

by Zoey Derrick

  “She wasn’t feeling good this morning?” I ask. “She didn’t say anything to me.”

  “I’m not sure, she shut me down when I asked her. But I’m not surprised she didn’t tell you, you’re in New York, not much you can do.”

  She sounds just like Cami when she says that. “I know but I still worry about her.”

  “I know. I’ll try calling her and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

  “Thanks, but don’t tell her I’m prying.”

  “All right, Tristan, I won’t.”

  “Thanks.”

  We hang up. I walk back toward the set and hand Tyson my phone. “What’s going on?” he asks.

  “Later,” I say and step on set, instantly turning off everything in order to do my job, just so I can get this over with and call her back.

  “So what’s up?” Tyson asks as we’re walking back to my trailer.

  “Cami seemed off when I talked to her.”

  “Dude, don’t push on her too hard. What she’s planning to do tomorrow can’t be easy on her.”

  He has a good point, and I try and shake it off a little. I look at my phone: two text messages.

  She seemed off when I talked to her too, but no info to share. Sorry, will talk to her tomorrow after her meeting.

  I type a quick reply to Beau.

  Thanks, let me know if you hear anything. Appreciate it.

  I flip to the next text.

  I’m fine. Promise. Just freaked about tmrw. I’m tired & gonna lay down, tlk 2mrw? Love you.

  I take some comfort in her text. Though I’m sad she doesn’t want a phone call, I can understand. Then I look at the time and realize it’s nearly one in the morning here. That’s ten in California. Still early for Cami to go to bed.

  No problem. She’ll be all right.

  I knw. Thnks

  Tyson and I get back to the hotel and make our way through the screaming girls on the sidewalk and up into my room. This is why I hate filming in New York: Everyone seems to know right where you are and where to find you when you’re not someplace they expect you to be. No doubt the pictures from my coming home are spreading like wildfire across the web.

  I wish Tyson goodnight, go into my bedroom and plop down on the bed. I’m worn out, and quickly fall sound asleep.

  THIRTY-ONE

  ******

  Cami

  ******

  Freaking out, that’s hardly the half of it. I hardly slept last night and I kept wanting to call Tristan. Then I received a news alert, and there was an article about Tristan returning to his hotel around one this morning, and after that I couldn’t sleep. I knew when I talked to him he said he was working late, so I didn’t dwell on it too much, and I hated the overly jealous streak that arose as I clicked through some of the pictures. But despite the pictures, I could see the worry in his features and no doubt that is because of me.

  “You have good reason to worry, Tristan.”

  I’d managed to fall back to sleep around three, only to wake up around eight by a turning stomach, and I rush to the bathroom. “Get used to it,” I tell myself. God, what am I going to do? Tristan — he is going to be so mad, I just know it. I was so stupid. How could I even begin to forget about my appointment? That’s always been a huge priority to me and it slipped my mind and slipped my calendar. “Damn it.”

  After throwing up twice, I lie back down and start dozing off and on for a while until my phone chimes with a text from Tristan.

  On set, long day ahead. Hope you’re feeling better, good luck today. Love you.

  I sigh. Feeling better? Absolutely not.

  Skipping office today, meeting with builders around 1. Not sleeping well. Miss you. Love you.

  It’s true: I miss him like crazy, and I wish he were here, telling me it’s all right, but...it’s not. I know it’s not. How could I be so stupid.

  Wish you were here.

  I give my phone a half smile, but I’m glad he’s not calling me. I don’t know how to talk to him right now. What am I going to do?

  The meeting with the house builders goes great and they’ve assured me that I can expect an initial layout walkthrough around the middle of February, and they will be breaking ground on Thursday. I’m surprised by how quickly they’re getting started, but I imagine this is a pretty big, expensive job and they’re anxious to get started. Working with them and seeing the house and the layout again makes me think of everything I’ve learned in less than twenty-four hours, and it terrifies me to no end. I’m worn out and exhausted by the time I get back to the hotel. Before I can even manage to text Tristan, I fall asleep on the bed on top of the sheets.

  When I wake up it is nearly midnight and I look at my phone. Thirty-seven missed calls. A combination of Tristan and Beau. Oh, for crying out loud. I need to get my shit together.

  I try calling Tristan and he doesn’t answer. I doubt he’s sleeping — at least, if he is freaking out about me. I call Beau. She answers immediately.

  “Where the hell have you been? I was about to get on a plane to L.A.”

  “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Chill. I’m fine. I’m still not feeling good, and after I met with the builders I came back to the hotel and passed out on the bed. On top of the sheets, still in my clothes.”

  “Something is not right with you, Cameron. You need to go to the doctor.” No, I don’t; I know exactly what’s wrong with me.

  “No, I’ll be fine.”

  “Damn it, Cameron. Are you pregnant?” Holy fuck. How the hell? I hesitate long enough in answering her question; I don’t want to lie to her. “Oh my God, Cams. Seriously?” She doesn’t sound pissed, at least not like I thought she would.

  “I—”

  “That would explain it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The vomiting, your exhaustion. You’re distracted. Cams, talk to me.” I start balling on the phone with her; I can’t help it. ”Babe, oh, please don’t cry.”

  “I can’t help it,” I manage to say between quite ugly crying.

  “You missed an appointment, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah,” I ball.

  “Stop crying. Is this why you’re avoiding Tristan?”

  “I’m not avoiding him. I just...I’m freaking the fuck out, Beau.”

  “Want me to come out there?”

  “No. I need some time to get my head wrapped around this. Figure out how I’m going to tell Tristan.”

  “Are you scared of the fact that you’re pregnant, or what Tristan will think?”

  “Both,” I say as I wipe the tears from my cheeks.

  “Cams, Tristan isn’t that kind of guy. He’s not going to leave you or hate you. Believe me.”

  “I’m trying, Beau, I’m just...I’m so confused.”

  “Take a deep breath. Your secret is perfectly safe with me. I won’t tell him, but if you don’t want him further freaking out on you, you need to pull yourself together and talk to him. Or placate him. Tell him you’re going to the doctor in the morning because of how sick you feel. Something — just help him to understand that you’re okay. He can’t do anything from New York, so make him feel comfortable. All right?”

  I take a deep breath. “All right, I’ll figure something out.” My phone beeps. “He’s calling me.”

  “I’m sure he is, he’s really worried about you.”

  “All right, I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Kisses,” she says, and she’s gone. I click the swap button on my phone.

  “Cams, are you all right?”

  I take a deep breath and yawn. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Where have you been?”

  “I didn’t sleep for shit last night. And when I got back from meeting with the builders, I fell asleep on top of my covers.”

  “Why didn’t my calls wake you up?”

  Shit, I don’t know. I look at my phone. “Because it is still on vibrate. Shit, Tristan, I’m sorry.”

  I hear him take a deep breath. “It’s all
right,” he whispers, and I can hear him yawn.

  “You need to get back to sleep. We can talk in the morning. Go get some sleep. I miss you and I love you.”

  “Ah hell, Cams, I love you too. Will you come tomorrow after you’re done at the office?”

  Crap. I need some more time. “Let me see what time I get done. If not tomorrow, I will come Wednesday. Okay?”

  “Sooner, please. I need you. I miss you.”

  The tears start again. “I miss you too. I love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  “I need you to say it.”

  “I love you,” he says, so soft and so sweet that the tears come a little harder. “Call when you wake up? Please?”

  I nod, then realize he can’t hear my head shake. “Yes. I will.”

  “Goodnight, sweets.”

  “Goodnight.”

  The conversation ends, and before I can have a complete crying fit, I go into the bathroom, then change into some more comfortable clothes. I stand in front of the mirror, trying to see if anything is any different, and it doesn’t really look that way.

  I climb back into bed and let the waterworks fall until I fall asleep again.

  THIRTY-TWO

  “Good morning, Rayne,” I say to my assistant as I step into the waiting room of my office floor.

  “Ms. Enders— I mean Cami. To what do we owe the pleasure.”

  “Surprise inspection.”

  Rayne laughs. “Yes, ma’am. Trinity is in her office.”

  “I need to talk to Vinnie, actually.”

  “I haven’t seen him yet this morning, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here. Check his office first.”

  “That’s where I’m headed.”

  I walk past her desk and head down the hallway. Trinity sees me walking past her office. “Cami,” she shouts after me.

  “Later, Trin.” I take three steps past her office and then I stop in my tracks and take a few steps back. “Actually, come with me,” I say, and she stands up and grabs her jacket. “Leave the coat. We’re only going to Vinnie’s office.”

  “Uh, I haven’t seen him this morning.”

  “He’s here. Come on.” She scurries out of her office and down the hall with me to Vincent’s door. I pause momentarily, taking a deep breath, hoping to keep myself in check during this encounter.

  We reach Vincent’s door and I knock twice. “Come in, Cami.”

  “See,” I say to Trinity as I open the door. I step inside first; Trinity is hot on my heels, curious, no doubt, as to what has me so worked up. I get an eyeful of one man sitting on a couch inside the office, and I damn near turn around to push Trinity out the door, deciding that this might not be the best idea I’ve ever had, but fuck it. Sitting opposite my father is Vinnie.

  Trinity gasps behind me, and I can hear the breath leave her lungs. Thankfully she falls against the door, and it’s now closed.

  “Well done, Cami,” Bobby says from the couch. His irritation is obvious and I don’t care.

  I shake my head. “You’re the one sitting in Vinnie’s office, anyone could walk in here. How the hell did you get in here without being noticed?” I pause but don’t give him time to answer. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” I turn toward Trinity, who is as white as a ghost. “Breathe, Trin.” She takes a sharp breath, then another. “Welcome to my life,” I say, sarcasm dripping off of every word.

  She looks at me with big eyes. “How did you know?”

  “How did you?” I ask her back.

  “I didn’t. I—” She looks past me at Bobby. “It’s like looking at a ghost.”

  “Pretty much. But how I know is not important, what is important is that I’d only known for a couple weeks that there was a possibility that this could really be true until a month ago, when I saw him in the flesh.”

  “I need to sit down,” she says as she steps gingerly toward the couch that Vinnie is sitting on.

  “So what now, Bobby, are you making a grand return to Bold?”

  “Stop that right now.” Bobby stands and stalks toward me, forcing me back into the corner Trinity was just standing in.

  “I came here to deal with Vinnie on my own, and I walk in to find you.”

  “Which is exactly why I’m here. You can’t fire him. I made him do it, and it has eaten him alive every single day since. Do not be angry with him. Be mad at me.”

  “I already am.” He backs away, straightening himself out. “So what now? I finally feel I am actually ready for this job, in a loose interpretation of that, at least, and now you want back in?” I ask Bobby as he takes his seat on the couch.

  “We can’t do that. The board will have a shit fit, not to mention the fact that we would have to pay back the insurance money and Bold’s reputation would go down the drain. Once that happened, it’d be all downhill from there. Sure, we’ve reestablished our client list and we’ve turned the largest profit in over ten years, but that doesn’t mean we are anywhere near stable enough to consider bringing Bobby out of the woodwork.” Vincent seems to have this all under control.

  “You both realize that I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing he was alive, right? That I didn’t need him pushing me silently from the mountains in Montana?”

  “I won’t be in Montana long. They’ve started rounding up what we talked about.” He gives me a look of, ‘Keep your mouth shut. “So I’m going further into hiding.”

  “Great, so what exactly was the point of making your presence known if you never had an intention of coming back?”

  “That is a conversation for you and I to have. Alone and on a different day. Not here.” I glare at Bobby.

  Trinity just sits there, quietly staring at Bobby, who is now staring back at her. It clicks, and I know my eyes get wide when realization dawns. I want to scream. “Are you kidding me right now?” I put my hands in my hair and grab hold, bringing myself out of the rage I feel like flying into. “Un-fucking-believable.”

  “Wha—”

  “Jesus, Vinnie, you’re fucking dense, aren’t you. Look at them. Oh my God. I am getting new furniture in my office, PRONTO!”

  “We never did it in his office.”

  “Thank fuck for that.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  I bust out laughing. “You’re kidding me, right? How long, Bobby?”

  “How long what?”

  “What? How long were you fucking her?”

  “Damn it, Cameron, calm down.”

  “Just when I thought you couldn’t drop any more bombs on me. This is great. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of a damn conspiracy theory here.” I take a deep breath in desperation to calm myself down. Everything in my life up to this moment feels like a smokescreen. Rose-colored glasses being shattered into a million tiny little pieces. Robert is alive, and in hiding, verses actually being dead. Though now I don’t know that I truly understand his reason for hiding in the first place. Yeah, okay, I get it: He was trying to protect me. But if he was going into hiding as though he were dead, why not just be dead and everyone’s life could go on. “Your web of lies stops right here, right now,” I nearly growl at Bobby. “I don’t care what your reasons were for doing what you did, I don’t care how or why. I’m exhausted, and all I want to do is turn all of this off...or wake up from this goddamn nightmare you’ve created for me.” Watching the way Trinity is reacting to my yelling at Bobby makes me see what I was failing to see for all these months. “Oh my God!” I nearly shout when I realize that there is more between Trinity and Bobby, more than even Bobby is no doubt aware of. I am staring at Trinity now. Our eyes meet, and she pleads and begs me to not say it, to not say anything. She knows what conclusion I’ve come to. “He doesn’t know?”

  “Cami, don’t, I’m begging you.”

  “Don’t what?” Bobby chimes in to our private conversation.

  “Do it, Trinity, or I will.” More frustration and anger wash over me. On top of everything else, I can’t handle this. My father ha
d an affair with Trinity, and— HOLY FUCK! I shout in my head.

  “No. I won’t do it.” Trinity is beyond adamant. Trying desperately to stand up, to come after me, to stop me.

  “The depth of the depravity in this room is un-fucking-believable.” I turn and open the door, head back the way I came and barge into Trinity’s office. It is exactly where I expect it to be. I grab the little silver frame off of her desk and go back to Vincent’s office.

  Trinity sees what I have in my hands and she reaches for me and for the picture. “Dammit, Cami, don’t do this. I don’t even know—“

  “You don’t even know if it’s his. Well let me enlighten you. It is!” I turn the picture frame over and I hear Bobby gasp. “From the moment I first saw his picture, I knew there was something familiar about it, but I was far too blind to see it. Or refused to see it. You never told him you were pregnant, did you?”

  Trinity slinks onto the couch, tears streaking down her face. “I never found the courage to tell him. When I finally built it up enough, he was gone.”

  “He was gone and left you with nothing. No money, no anything besides your job, and right now I have half a mind to fire both of you. And you—” I look at Bobby. “Don’t fuck him up the way you fucked me up.”

  I throw the picture frame onto the couch next to Bobby, and I barely see him pick it up before I am slamming the door and walking down the hallway. I fly past Rayne and hit the stairs — I’m not waiting for the elevator — and I am thankful that Bobby is trapped in that room, otherwise he’d be coming after me.

  I pull my phone from my pocket. Please don’t pick up, don’t pick up. Dammit, don’t pick up. “You know what to do.” Thank God!