by Jiffy Kate
I’ve felt so torn over Cami since as far back as I can remember. When I first started having feelings for her, way back before puberty hit, I thought it was wrong. She’s always been close, like a sister, but I never thought of her that way. A best friend, yes, but never a sister. But she is Tucker’s sister, and that was also a roadblock to my feelings for her. I knew Tucker would shit a brick and want to kick my ass if he knew how I felt about Cami back in high school. Shit, if he ever found out that the two of us had sex . . . I don’t even want to think about it.
“Ready?” the doctor asks, pulling me out of my thoughts. I feel Cami’s hand tighten around mine as my eyes try to adjust to the screen.
Eventually, I realize that it doesn’t matter if my eyes adjust because I have no clue what I’m looking at. The doctor must recognize the confused look on my face because he starts pointing out body parts, helping me make sense of what’s on the monitor.
Cami’s hand squeezes mine. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Sure, is. Just like his mama,” I assure her.
Wait just a damn minute.
I don’t remember being told that she’s having a boy.
My eyes flash to hers, and she’s looking like the cat who ate the canary. “He?” I ask.
She giggles. “Yep. No one else knows, so you better keep your mouth shut, Deacon Landry.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Camille Benoit.”
Her eyes are sparkling again, and I’m overcome with the desire to kiss her.
That cannot happen.
But I want it anyway, and I literally have to force myself not to move in closer and do it.
That would be wrong, on so many levels.
But right on so many more.
The struggle I feel inside has been building strength the last month or so, and I honestly don’t know how much longer I can fight it off.
It doesn’t help that Cami seems to be feeling the same way. Her gaze has traveled from my eyes to my mouth a couple of times now, making it even harder to resist her.
Get your shit together, Deacon.
“Your baby looks perfect, Camille. Everything is on track. I just need you to be mindful of these Braxton Hicks contractions. If you feel them again, get off your feet and drink some water. If they continue or increase in intensity, call us immediately.”
“Yes, sir. I will. Thank you so much.”
Now that the spell we were just under has fallen, I kiss her on her forehead and tell her I’m going outside to call everyone and give them the good news.
After getting my ass chewed out by everyone for not calling sooner, I make my way back to Cami’s room. She’s back in a wheelchair and looks like she’s ready to leave.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“Everything’s fine. I can go home now. I’m just waiting on the final paperwork, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Let me drive you home.” The idea of her driving home after everything she’s been through today has my stomach in knots.
“Don’t be silly, Deacon. I can drive myself. Besides, don’t you have to work tonight?”
“Micah already knows I’m here with you. I doubt he’s expectin’ me to show up.” In fact, he already told me not to come back until Cami was safe and if he or Tucker found out I let her drive home, they’d both beat the shit out of me. Well, they’d try anyway.
“But what about my truck? I can’t just leave it here.”
“Sure, you can. Micah and some of the guys from Grinders will take care of it, I promise. Your job isn’t to worry right now, it’s to keep that little guy and his mama safe, got it?” I point to her small but rounded stomach.
She laughs before conceding. “Okay, fine. I have to admit I’m pretty tired. Sorry in advance for falling asleep on the way home.”
A few minutes later, Cami is buckled into my truck, and we’re on our way to French Settlement, but not before we drive through a fast food place and order almost everything on the menu. Neither one of us had lunch and didn’t realize how hungry we were until we saw those golden arches.
“Thanks, again, for comin’ to my rescue. I’m sorry you had to waste almost an entire day at the hospital,” she tells me before shoving at least four fries into her mouth at the same time.
“Stop apologizin’. And, I didn’t rescue you; I just kept you company for a little bit,” I say before winking at her. “Besides, spendin’ a day with you is never a waste.”
“I bet Janie would disagree.” I can tell she’s surprised that she blurted her comment out which only makes me laugh harder.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I wipe my eyes on my shirt sleeve before taking a drink of my coke.
“Does she know where you’ve been all day?”
“Yep.”
“Was she okay with you going to the hospital to see me?’
“Nope.” I wish I could tell her differently, but I’ve never lied to Cami intentionally, and I don’t plan on starting now.
“I’m sorry.” She looks away from me and out of her window.
I grab her hand to get her attention. “Didn’t I tell you to stop that? You don’t need to worry about Janie. If she has a problem with you or with me seein’ you, then she can take it up with me. She knows you’re family and family comes first with me. Always.”
“But she’s your family, too, right? I mean, don’t you think you’ll get married eventually?”
I hate this. I have no desire to hurt her any more than I already have or throw my relationship with Janie in her face.
When did life get so fucking complicated?
“I don’t know,” I say, sighing because that’s the truth. I feel like I don’t know what the hell is going on in my life these days. “Usually, we’re just easy, but lately, everything is a big fight. I’m tired of arguing with her, to be honest.”
She sits quietly for a second, and I wonder if I’ve said too much, but I’m not ready for our conversation to be over.
“I’m an asshole, huh?” I ask, truly wanting her opinion.
“No, you’re not. You’re just confused or somethin’. But don’t ask for romance advice from me. We both know that’s not my forte,” she says with a small laugh.
My blood still boils every time I think of that prick, Tristan.
“Let’s not ruin this day by mentioning Mr. Douche,” I say.
Her laugh is music to my ears. “Deal.”
When we reach my cottage, I help her out of the truck and into the house. I’m so glad she’s agreed to stay here until the baby is born. I’d worry myself sick if she lived in town by herself. I know she did it for years in New Orleans but, now that she’s back home, I can’t imagine her not being on this property.
“You sure you should be drivin’ back to Baton Rouge tonight?”
“I probably should, but I think I’m gonna go see the folks for a bit. I might even spend the night over there.”
“You really are tryin’ to piss Janie off, aren’t you?”
I laugh. “No, I’m really not. I just don’t feel like leavin’.”
“Well, this is your house, you know. You can stay here. I don’t mind sleepin’ on the couch.”
All humor has left my face, and I give her a stern look. “I’m not even gonna acknowledge that comment. You’ve had a long day and need your rest, so I’m going to get out of your hair. But, if you need me for anything, you call or text me, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” she says while saluting me.
Damn her for being so cute. Truth be told, I don’t trust myself to stay here with her any longer than what’s necessary. I’m not a cheater, but I can’t handle any more temptation. Being with Cami in my cottage, in such close quarters, is pushing me to my limits. She’s everywhere here. It used to be bad enough with her art on the walls and little touches that have always reminded me of her, like looking out my front window and seeing the pond. It’s always been our pond in my mind. But since she’s moved in here, her sweet smell permeates the wal
ls and her shoes are by the door and her half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich is in the refrigerator. And all of it is too much.
“I’ve gotta go,” I tell her with my hand already on the door.
“Okay.”
I hesitate for a split second because the slight disappointment on her face and in her tone is enough to make me want to stay. Forever. But I can’t.
Damn it, if I don’t want to.
“I’ll talk to you later,” I say, needing to assure her in some way that I’m here for her. I just can’t be here. If I’m going to be here, then I can’t be with Janie. And I don’t know what to do about that right now. The torn feeling I have when I shut the door behind me is jarring.
Camille
Present
WHILE THE NURSE IS TENDING to Deacon’s wounds before bedtime, I walk Sam and Annie out to their truck. They’ll leave Annie’s car here until Micah and Dani can drive it back to the Settlement tomorrow.
I can’t help but notice the difference in the way we’re exiting the hospital compared to how we entered earlier today. I’m grateful for the change. Grateful and exhausted.
Annie loops her arm around mine and smiles at me. “How you doin’, sugar?”
“I’m fine,” I answer automatically. Annie quirks her eyebrow at me, and I laugh. “I am. I’m tired but, all things considered, I’m doin’ great. Today could’ve been so much worse, you know?”
“I do know. Believe me; my mind has put me through all kinds of scenarios today. I’m looking forward to a quiet drive home followed by lots of Carter snuggles.” It warms my heart the way her face lights up when she talks about my little boy. It’s kinda crazy when you think about it, because he’s not related to her by blood, but there’s no doubting the bond those two share.
“Annie, you don’t have to keep Carter tonight. I’m sure it’s fine if he stays with Daddy and Kay. Besides, you and Sam need a restful night, and you know that won’t happen with him there.”
“You hush right now. I’m takin’ that boy to my place and won’t hear another word about it. Your daddy and Kay are leaving early to go fishin’ anyway, so if he stays with us, he can sleep in.”
It’s a good thing we’re now outside of the building because I let out a laugh so loud, I even surprise myself. I think it’s the first time today I’ve laughed, and it feels good. “You know good and well my son doesn’t know the meaning of sleepin’ in.”
Annie joins me in laughing. “True, but he naps like a pro.”
We reach Sam’s truck, both of us wiping our eyes, but this time it’s happy tears instead of fearful tears. Annie turns to me with a serious look on her face. “Thank you, Camille.”
It’s not often she calls me by my given name, so it catches me off guard. “For what?” I ask. I can’t imagine why she feels the need to thank me for anything.
“For bein’ you and for lovin’ my son like it’s your sole purpose in life.”
“It is my purpose, outside of Carter, of course. I was meant to love Deacon. There’s no choice in the matter. But, even if I had the choice, I’d still choose him.”
She hugs me tightly and whispers in my ear. “I love you so much, baby girl. Now, go take care of our guy, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I smile at Sam and wave goodbye before walking back toward the hospital.
Camille
Past
SITTING IN THE OLD BARN on a stool Annie let me borrow from her greenhouse, I close my eyes and take in a deep cleansing breath. Ever since my scare with the Braxton Hicks contractions, my doctor has given me strict instructions to take it easy. He wanted me to quit my job, but I told him that just wasn’t possible. I needed to save as much money as possible, so I’ll be able to provide for my baby. He understood even though he didn’t like it. Kinda like Deacon. And everyone else, for that matter. They finally realized they were causing me more stress than good, so they’ve let me be and let me do my own thing.
Well, for the most part.
They still check up on me every day I’m at the diner. One of them will stop by. Usually, it’s my daddy and Kay, or Sam on his way out of town. They play it off by ordering a piece of pie or a cup of coffee, but I know what they’re up to.
Deacon calls me at least twice a day.
Tucker calls when Deacon doesn’t.
Sometimes I wonder if they have some secret schedule.
But now, the watch has officially started.
As of yesterday, I’m in my 39th week of pregnancy. According to my doctor, this baby could come at any time, and I’m so ready.
Even sitting feels taxing these days.
I can’t eat, because there’s no room for food.
I can’t sleep because the baby is pressing on every vital organ inside my body.
If it weren’t for this glorious extra-large box fan that Sam installed in the barn, I would be pouring buckets of sweat.
I’m miserable.
And I feel like a tank.
Annie assures me that my motherly glow is in full swing, but I think she’s just saying that to keep me from crying.
The tears. Oh, my God. The tears.
They come at less than a moment’s notice. Just this week, I’ve cried over running out of Sprite and Oreo cookies. I cried when I saw a dead squirrel leading up to the cottage, sure that I was the one who killed it, and now a baby squirrel is somewhere without a mother.
Just thinking about it again has my eyes watering up, blurring the mostly-blue canvas in front of me.
I’ve taken the advice of my doctor, and I stopped waitressing four days ago. The week before that, Annie, Kay and I finished up all the pertinent shopping for the baby. Now, I’m just waiting. And what better way to pass the time that sitting in front of a canvas.
My dreams have been so vivid lately. I’m not sure if it’s the extra hormones or the late night eating, but every morning I wake up with some new image burned into my brain, and I just have to put it on canvas. I’ve been finishing a painting every other day, which is the fastest I’ve turned out paintings since I was a starving college student in New Orleans.
For a brief moment, when I found out I was pregnant and everything went south with Tristan, I thought maybe this part of my life was over. How could I support myself and my baby and be a struggling artist? That just didn’t add up in my mind.
Deacon is the one who made me realize I can’t give up on my dreams. He’s encouraged me to continue to chase my castles, and when I didn’t believe in myself, he still believed in me.
So, here I am, finishing one of my most important pieces to date.
It’s a painting for my baby’s room.
Well, he doesn’t technically have a room yet, but he will one day. And when he does, this will hang there. It’ll be a reminder of everything important in life. It started from a dream I had a few days ago. In my dream, I was running through an open field. My long hair blew behind me like a cape, and my arms reached out to the sides. I seemed so carefree, so happy.
Usually, I’m an active participant in my dreams, but this time, it was like I was merely an observer. I watched myself get to the edge of the field and there, among the trees, waiting for me, was my mama. She was beautiful, just like I remember her. She stared at me for quite awhile, the two of us standing in silence, and then she reached out and touched my face . . . and then my protruding belly. A bright smile graced her features, and then she was gone. The wind picked up, and she drifted away like a flock of birds.
But I wasn’t sad when I woke up. I was happy. I felt like I had been with her, and even though it was only a brief moment, she touched me . . . and my baby.
I knew I had to paint something that represented that dream and gave my mama a place in my baby’s life.
The painting took on a life of its own once I sat down. Looking over the almost completed piece, I follow the swirls of blue and smile when I see the small castle I painted into the clouds. At the edge of the canvas is where the field
ends and a forest of trees begin. In that forest, on a tree trunk, I painted a heart. That’s my mama. She’s there. She’s watching over us. And I get the feeling she’s already met this wiggly baby in my tummy.
I hope he looks like her.
I hope he has sparkling blue eyes and curly blond hair, just like her.
As I dip my brush in some dark green paint to finish up the shading on the large oak trees, I feel a slight popping sensation and then liquid seeping through my cut-off jean shorts.
Looking down, I’m worried that I peed myself. It wouldn’t be the first time in the last nine months, but all of the times before, I at least sneezed or laughed beforehand. This came without warning.
When I stand up, more liquid runs down my leg and realization dawns on me.
My water broke.
Oh, shit.
I’m having a baby.
I drop the small palette and my brush and walk cautiously out of the barn. I feel like if I run or make any quick movements, the baby is going to come out, and as much as I love this barn, I do not want to have a baby here.
It’s dirty, and there aren’t any doctors.
As I walk a little quicker, I begin to pant as the first real pain hits me.
I felt a few contractions this morning but assumed they were stupid Braxton Hicks once again, because that’s what they felt like and they weren’t that close together.
Pausing to let it pass, I look up and feel like the big house is a million miles away, but I have no choice but to make it there. I didn’t bring my phone with me to the barn. And the big house is closer than the cottage. So, I waddle my way down the path.
The sweat is starting to bead up on my forehead when I get close enough to the house to holler for some help.
“Annie!” I yell, not wanting to freak her out, but as another contraction hits me, I can’t help it.
I need a hospital.
Stat.
“Annie!” I call again, taking a few more steps and almost making it to the patio when the back door flies open.
Sam is standing there in his three-piece suit looking like he’s ready to go into a boardroom, but the panic in his eyes when he sees me is enough to make me start panicking.
