Chasing Castles (Finding Focus #2) (30 page)

Is she turned on?

God, I hope so.

Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is turned up in a surprised smile, but it’s her heavy breathing that’s really got my attention. Thankfully, after I took Carter, she put herself back together, so at least I don’t have her exposed boobs to distract me any longer. Or maybe I’m not so thankful.

Holy shit
. Is it normal to be this turned on with a baby so close by?

I know nothing romantic will happen between Cami and me. Not tonight. That wouldn’t be fair to her or to Janie, and I’m not a cheater, but I can’t deny loving the fact that Cami is clearly checking me out and liking what she sees.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to change poses . . . I mean positions, to see how they affect Cami. You know, for future reference. I make a show of carefully moving Carter to my chest and holding him up against my shoulder. I kiss the top of his head and take in a little whiff of his baby scent, surprised that he smells good, like really good. I think it’s probably baby powder and lotion . . . and maybe a little of his mama. It’s a bit intoxicating. Now I see why people always sniff their little heads.

I so got this baby thing down.

Because I’m a dumbass, I get a little smug with myself, while rubbing Carter’s back. Just when I think I must be the baby whisperer, in rapid succession, he lets out a loud wail, burps, and then throws up an enormous amount of breastmilk down the front of my shirt, before falling swiftly back asleep.

How can he go from being so peaceful to full-on post-rager and back again in a matter of seconds?

I look to Cami for help, but she has her face planted in a pillow, trying not to disturb Carter with her laughter. And now I smell like rotten ass, but I don’t care. I still consider this a win and proof that I can do this.

I can help take care of a baby.

I can be here for Cami.

And I’m exactly where I want to be.

Cami was sweet enough to find me an old shirt of Tucker’s to trade out for the one that was demoralized by spit-up. That shit is toxic, but oddly enough, it didn’t make me want to give him up. After I got a clean shirt, albeit a size or two too small, Carter and I settled back on the couch while Cami and I finished our conversation about the art studio.

I told her I think it’d be best not to take out a loan for now. She still has some money in savings and all she needs is a small space to rent until the studio gets off the ground. Then, when she has a constant cash flow, she can invest in a building.

The passion she has for her art is tangible, and I know she’s going to be successful. And beyond all of that, I’m so happy to know that she hasn’t given up on her dreams . . . hasn’t quit chasing her castles.

Before I even make the crossover onto Highway 16, my phone vibrates, signaling an incoming text message.

At the next stop sign, I check it and see it’s Janie, reminding me to stop by her apartment before going home.

Sighing, I text her back before turning out on the highway. As much as I just want to go home and call it a night, I know I need to talk to her.

When I pull up at Janie’s, forty minutes later, I park my truck and hop out. Before I even get to her door, I see the light from inside as she cracks it open and stands there with her arms folded across her chest.

Unlike earlier today, her expression is more solemn. I hate that this is what our relationship has come to. I always thought, if we ever quit dating, we’d at least still be friends. I’m not sure where everything went so wrong.

Well, I guess I do.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, without even thinking about what I want to say. First, I know I want to apologize.

“For what?” she asks, squaring her shoulders.

“For, I don’t know . . . all of this,” I say, waving my arms around in the air at invisible objects. “I know you’re upset, and I hate seeing you that way. So, I’m sorry.”

“Where do you see us going from here?” she asks.

I swallow, knowing what I want to say and what I need to say, but I’m having trouble forcing the words out.

“I don’t know,” I say, but it’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is that I don’t see us going anywhere. Janie is great. She’s ambitious and smart and fun. But she’s not who I see myself with in thirty years . . . or ten . . . or tomorrow.

“You’ll never look at me the way you look at her,” she says sadly, and it makes my head snap up, and my eyes find hers. “You look at her like she hung the moon and placed the stars. When she’s in the room, she’s all you see. But I want you to look at me like that.” There are tears in her eyes and emotion thick in her voice.

“You deserve someone to look at you like that,” I tell her with all the honesty and sincerity I can muster. Hearing her words makes my heart ache, but weirdly enough, it’s not because I’m sad . . . it’s because I know what she’s saying is the truth. I’ve always thought that Cami is wonderful . . . because she is. She’s my best friend, my first love, and I’ve suddenly realized she is the person I can see myself with fifty years down the road.

I don’t know why it took me so long to see it, but I do. So clearly.

Janie pushes herself off the doorframe and takes a couple of steps toward me until we’re standing toe to toe. Stretching up, using the front of my too small shirt to pull herself closer, she places a soft kiss on my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’ve always known I could never compete with her. I saw it the first night at the restaurant, but I guess I thought maybe I still had a chance because you were with me. But some things just aren’t meant to be.”

And some things are.

Camille

Present

I WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND HOW
a patient is supposed to rest while in a hospital when they’re constantly being disturbed throughout the night. I know the medical staff are only doing their jobs, but it’s frustrating, and I’m not even the patient.

The good news is that Deacon is expected to be discharged later today. The doctor wants to do another chest x-ray and, if that’s clear, we can leave. I’m so ready to be in a real bed. I can only imagine how Deacon must feel.

“Hey, you think we can get a few of these hospital gowns to take home?” Deacon asks.

“Why on earth would you want that?”

“We could both use them. Just think about how interesting ‘no pants day’ would be with these things on! Talk about easy access,” he says while waggling his eyebrows at me.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that’s the man I’m gonna marry.

I take the small pillow given to me by the nurse last night and throw it at his face. “What am I gonna do with you, Deacon Landry?”

He leans over and grabs my hand, pulling me to him. “You’re gonna marry me, that’s what, Camille Benoit. Don’t you forget it.”

He kisses me, and it’s almost as if we’re home already and not still in this hospital room. That is until the door opens and we hear a throat clearing.

“Sorry, to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and check on Deacon.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that voice, and I can tell by the expression on Deacon’s face he’s just as surprised as I am.

“Hey, Janie. Come on in,” he tells her. “I didn’t realize you were workin’ here.”

When I go to move from Deacon’s bed to the nearby chair, Deacon stops me and pulls me closer to him. I don’t know if he’s using me to protect himself or making sure Janie knows we’re together but, either way, I don’t mind.

Janie steps into the room but doesn’t sit down. “Yeah, I’m doing my residency here. Sorry for just barging in like this. I saw your name on a medical file and wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry to hear about your restaurant.”

“Thanks. I’m lucky it wasn’t worse—for me and for Pockets—but we’ll both be fine.”

I love the confidence in his voice. He’s determined for the fire to only be a hiccup in his plans, nothing serious and, certainly, nothing long term.

“I also see that congratulations are in order,” Janie says, nodding toward the engagement ring on my finger.

“Yep,” Deacon beams, “we’re gettin’ married next week.”

Janie looks a little surprised to hear about our wedding, but she plays it off well.

“Oh, even after the fire?” she asks. It’s an honest question, even one we’ve discussed once or twice during the last twenty-four hours.

“Absolutely. I don’t care if I have to wear shorts or walk with a cane, nothing is keeping me from marrying Cami next week just like we’ve planned.” He’s speaking to her but looking at me the entire time. I was the one who half-heartedly suggested we postpone the wedding, if only for another week, but Deacon adamantly refused.

“Well, that’s great. I’m happy for you both.” She walks back to the door and waves her clipboard in the air. “I have to get back to my rounds. It was good seeing you, Deacon. Take care.”

Camille

Past

SOMETIMES, AT NIGHT, MY TINY
house is too quiet.

And lonely.

But it especially is tonight because, for the first time since Carter was born, I’m spending the night alone. I went out with Stacey for a drink earlier since she’s home for Thanksgiving and we ran into Deacon and Micah and my brother at the bar.