IT'S BEEN ABOUT a month since Cammie moved out of her place with Oliver and into Mom's guest house. I wish I could say that everything has been amazing since then, but that's not the case. When she hung up with Oliver that day in the apartment they used to share together, of course the ass didn't do what he was supposed to do.
He's made Cammie look like a cheating whore by playing the victim. I didn't think there was any redemption for him, but if there was, it's vanished as he's demonstrated there aren't enough obscene words in the dictionary to adequately describe how much I fucking loathe him. I wish she'd out his ass. But one of the things I love about her is that she's not vindictive. Or a bitch even if she used that word once to describe herself, and I playfully let her hear me use it in a sentence of my own.
Three weeks ago, we had our official first date, which included buying a pregnancy test. Thank fuck that was negative. It doesn't matter that we've known each other our entire lives. I was not ready to share her, but I kept hyping myself up the entire time we were out that it'd all be okay—picturing her with a round belly—and then being smacked with the realization it'd be Oliverfucktwists.
The sensible side of me knew the statistics were in her favor. The side of me that knows how statistics affect the people I love—and me—was damn near terrified it was going to be positive.
Had it been positive, it would have only complicated matters. But I do wonder if her parents would be behaving differently if they thought they had a little grandbaby, an heir, on the way. But her child technically wouldn't be an heir. That'd be Wells' child.
Spencer men.
As I sit at the same table at Rind 'N Grind I shared with Cammie, I shake my head, balling my hands in fists. It was a month ago when her father caught us a little too cozy. It's been nine years since the day he told me to stay away from Cammie in the hospital. As guilty as I felt for the bad, wrong choices I've made, I thought Cam and I would be okay, that tensions were just running high. As pissed as I was, it kind of went in one ear and out of the other.
I should have known better than to take her some place she loves, like Rind 'N Grind, some place where she's well known. And then to be affectionate with her. But it never crossed my mind we were really hiding something from someone. We'd already agreed we wouldn't keep our feelings a secret in public, but we should have waited until after we'd told her parents.
That's my fault.
Once again, my actions have caused her pain because neither Mr. Spencer nor Mrs. Spencer will take her calls. They changed the gate access code to their home. When she tried to go there to talk to them after they kept sending her calls to voicemail, she couldn't even get in to see them, to explain, to give them her side. I understand a parent siding with one child over the other. But this isn't a sibling version of he said, she said. They fucking took Oliver's word and the little Mr. Spencer saw without even giving her a chance.
This isn't all that surprising, though, really. That day in the hospital, it became clear Mr. Spencer wasn't the kind of man I thought he was. At the same time, that day proved there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for what he thought was the well-being of his kids. Or so I thought. That's why all this makes a hell of a lot more sense now to me. It's not just that he doesn't think I'm worthy enough for her, that he doesn't like me. It's so much more than that.
But, for the life of me, I can't figure out how a mother turns her back on her daughter the way Mrs. Spencer has done to Cammie. It's totally uncharacteristic for her. The only thing I can think of is that she didn't have a choice. Well, I technically didn't think of it. Cammie did. There's a prenuptial agreement between her parents. I put nothing past her father. To think I thought the women of Magnolia Grove took social standing and their reputations the most serious, I know now he cares more than any of us about the optics. Maybe I realized that nine years ago in that hospital, but I was too upset to understand what was happening, that he was trying to manipulate the situation so the light shone favorably on his family, not ours. Did he ever give a damn about us?
Regardless, he doesn't make idle threats. I grip my coffee mug a little tighter, letting the heat radiate through my hands. The clock above the glass door shows he's ten minutes late. Stupid fucker. He comes here every day. Well, he used to until I started coming here to work and wait for him in an effort to catch him. I've got a few things I need to get off my chest.
Cammie doesn't know I've been doing this. I'm not sure how she'll feel if she finds out. I'm not stupid, though. She says the swelling around her eyes is just fluid retention. That's bullshit. The bags are from losing fluid in the form of tears. It kills me to see her upset like this, and I'm not going to sit back and do nothing. Not anymore like I did for so long. We're together now. More than anything, I want to prove to her I am there for her through anything. Like the wedding. I've been by her side as she's undone every single detail, as she's gotten stares, and when it's been obvious people are talking about her and us behind our backs.
Today, instead of driving to Rind 'N Grind and having my car give away that I'm here, I walked. There's no evidence that I'm here. My hope is that will make Mr. Spencer think I've given up on seeing him.
When the time he usually arrives comes and goes, I slump in my chair. I am determined to try to fix this between them, but I'm not going to make decisions for the both of us, Cammie and me, anymore. Well, at least decisions that are detrimental to our relationship. When Mr. Spencer cornered me in the hospital, and then after Violet died, I thought what I was doing was best for Cammie. She probably doesn't know it, but I chose the words on the notes I left for her this morning carefully. Back then, I sacrificed exploring this deep connection we have, sacrificed my feelings, because once you hear it enough times, you start to believe it. I genuinely thought she deserved better. In the beginning, yeah, it was an attempt to save her from the agony I was experiencing at the loss of someone I loved so damn much. I picked a sucky way to do that. But I needed control over something in my life. How I ended things with her was all I had.
What I was too stupid to know then was that I loved her. That every time I worked myself up that I was good enough, that I was worthy, I got knocked down. It was like the universe was against us.
Is against us.
I'm not sure what fool said love shouldn't be scary, but they clearly never experienced the kind of intoxicating, spellbinding euphoria I've been in for the last month. And even before we ever kissed, that year leading up to Violet's death when I knew I liked being around her, liked even more to annoy the hell out of her, and looked forward to moments when I could touch her—that was love.
To everyone else, we've only technically been together a month. And it's no secret she just came out of a sham of a relationship with Olivertwit or whatever the hell funny name that Amie calls him. But to me, I know without a doubt, if things had been different when we were younger, she would have never settled for him in the first place. Because she would have been with me for nine years instead of a month. She would have had her bar set so high, the likes of Oliver would have been laughable. But instead, I let her down. To everyone else, the likes of Holden Masters is laughable.
Back then, even now, she's had no way of knowing how much more she deserved or should expect. Her father should have taught her that. Fuck, Wells could have taught her that. Ha. Who am I kidding? The thought of him with my sister makes me clench my hands into fists. Screw the Spencer men.
They're no better than my father was.
And I'm nothing like him. If I'd been given the chance, I sure as hell would have tried to show Violet how much she deserved. And it would have been a hell of a lot more than Wells Spencer.
Wells. I swallow, narrowing my eyes. Surely he's talked to Cammie since this all went down. And if he has, why hasn't he done something to intervene for good or bad? He acted like he was such a better brother than me. Now's his chance to prove it. Talk's cheap.
I slide my finger over the mouse pad of my laptop and put the cursor in the search box before typing, "Wells Spencer". Hesitating a moment, I quickly press enter. In less than a second, results are listed, and I scroll over the link for the contact details I know belong to him—the ones that list Cammie as a relative. I can't believe I'm about to do this. Of all the people, Wells Fucking Spencer.
Daniel, one of the medics, is having a baby today. I offered to take his shift so he could be off. Glancing at my watch, there's less than thirty minutes before I'm due to report. To call him or to wait?
All I can think of is how that went the last time. Can I actually trust him now?