Chasing Love's Wings Page 9
After that I tuck her into bed to let her sleep it off. She needs to be able to clear her mind and, if need be, we can have this conversation tomorrow. I don’t have to be in the makeup chair until ten tomorrow morning because we’re shooting mostly afternoon and evening shots tomorrow. Once she is settled in, I take a large glass of water and two Tylenol from the cabinet in the bathroom to her. “Here.” She takes them from me and drinks them down. I might not be able to help with the vomiting in the morning, but I can certainly try to ward off the headache that she is certain to have.
I leave her to sleep it off and I go back out into the dining room. Tyson and Jo are there, finishing up dinner. “Want some?” Jo asks.
“Nah, I’m not hungry.” I go to the fridge, grab myself a Sam Adams and step out onto the porch, staring up at the stars. The ache in my chest is back, and I rub it, hoping like hell that something, anything, will help set us back on the right track.
FOURTEEN
After I down the first beer, I go back in for another. Tyson is sitting at the table, messing around with his phone.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asks me.
“Not particularly,” I say, and walk back out the door. I sit up on the railing, where I was before I downed my beer, and I hear the door swing closed again.
“Tough shit. What’s going on?”
“I told her she had to figure her shit out. Go get the answers she so desperately needs. Though I might have pushed her too far because I told her that I wanted to have the woman I fell in love with back.”
“Ouch, man, is she really being that bad?”
I look at him and nod. “She has no sense of the spiral she is falling down. I can’t even begin to imagine the spiral I would fall down if I found out my mom was still alive. But our situations are so different from one another. Bobby essentially threw Cami to the wolves and never even bothered to try, at least while he was alive. At some point their relationship started to get better, but before it could develop into anything, he ‘died.’” I can’t even begin to imagine, and to some extent, I understand why she is falling down this spiral. “I love her more than anything, Ty. I need her to come back to me.”
“Give her some time. Maybe she will go see her father, get to the bottom of this. But don’t expect her to be cured when she comes home. You need to remember why this is so hard for her. Her father was a douche to her in life, then faked his own death just for her to find out that he’s alive, right when she is starting to really accept his death. I would not want to be in her shoes.”
“I don’t want her shoes, they hurt.”
He laughs a little. “You know what I mean.”
“I do know what you mean, and I can’t help her unless she wants my help...or unless she starts talking to me.”
“Understood.”
Tyson and I sit on the porch for some time, not really talking about anything, just sitting in silence, drinking beer. Okay, I’m the only one drinking beer. Tyson is having apple juice.
After my fourth beer, I realize that it is after midnight and head to bed. When I climb in, Cami is snoring softly and I try my hardest to climb into bed without waking her up. She needs to sleep off her alcohol.
I’m not in bed for two minutes before she rolls over and snuggles into me, wrapping her arm around me and nestling into the crook of my shoulder. I can’t help but pull her close to me. I love her so much it hurts. I kiss her forehead.
“I love you, I’m sorry,” she whispers, and I think she’s awake, but the soft snoring continues.
“I love you.”
I fall asleep quickly after that.
******
Cami
******
I have got to stop doing this. My head is pounding, my stomach is swirling, and I am draped all over Tristan. I wasn’t that drunk last night, and I remember everything he said to me. Every single word of it was true. Truer than I really wanted to hear, but he proved something to me last night. No matter what, he will always push me to do the right things.
He’s right; I can’t keep doing this to myself. This isn’t who I am anymore, and I’m being a complete and total bitch to someone who doesn’t deserve it. He’s done nothing but support me and stand by my side since we met in Tarah.
What I wouldn’t give to be back there again. Back to when things were carefree between us. Back to when things were sweeter, simpler and filled with rooftop swimming pools and room service.
I finally open my eyes, and as soon as I do, Tristan begins stoking my hair. “I know you’re awake,” he whispers.
I smile despite the major headache beating my brain to death. “How’d you know?”
I feel his small chuckle. “You started tracing my abs with your finger.”
“Oh,” I say and sit up, looking at his beautiful blue eyes. Eyes that I adore. They’re vulnerable this morning, and I can truly understand why. He’s waiting to see if I am going to snap at him. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.
He gives me a beautiful, crooked smile. “So am I.”
I cock my head at him and I can tell he is thinking that I don’t remember last night, but I do. “Everything you said was the truth, you have nothing to be sorry about.”
“You give me more credit than I deserve. Though I stand by what I said — you either need to talk this out or put an end to it. I’m always willing to listen, but I’m pretty sure I’m not the person you need to be talking to.”
“You’re right.”
“I will go with you, all you have to do is ask.”
I shake my head. “No, you’ve seen me at my worst without being around Robert. You do not need to see that, and he is someone I need to deal with on my own.”
“I respect that, Cami. But know that when you’re done, I will be here, ready and willing to talk about this. Without the alcohol.” He kisses the top of my head.
I move to bring my lips to his and he turns away. “Nope, go brush your teeth. Crown in the morning is the worst breath ever.” He laughs, and I leap up out of bed, stripping off my clothes as I go.
I’m standing there at the mirror, looking at my hair and brushing my teeth, when Tristan comes up behind me and grabs my ass. Then, in my stunned immobility, he takes my toothbrush from my mouth and puts it in his. “Hey, I wasn’t done with that.” I spit the toothpaste out and grab the mouthwash, rinsing. I watch as he brushes his teeth. He’s watching me in the mirror.
We don’t make it out of the bathroom. First he takes me on the counter, then again in the shower, and I know the moment he slides home inside me I am forgiven for my inexcusable outburst last night. But I know that if I keep this shit up, eventually he won’t forgive me.
“I’m off tomorrow,” he says as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. “If you change your mind and want me to go with you, I can go tomorrow.”
“No, I think I need to go and get this over with, and I know that I need to go alone.” I climb into my black pumps and straighten the pencil skirt I’m wearing, then tuck in the button-up, sleeveless silver blouse. I pull on the matching black jacket and watch Tristan’s eyes rake over me. “Enjoying the view?”
“Absolutely, but more than that I’m trying to decide why you’d wear something so formal to meet your father.”
“It’s my way of feeling powerful. I know I will catch him off guard, and I will be dressed like this. It gives me confidence. Though I am going sans makeup. No one wants to see that.” He shivers at the memory of seeing me that night. I have no idea what I looked like then, but the next morning was disastrous enough.
He walks over to me and wraps his arms around me. “Will you text me when you get there? Then again when you leave? If I can, I will text or call you back. But I have a busy day ahead of me and am scheduled to be on set until at least eight.”
I groan. “Eight? Really?” I pout.
He smiles. “Yes, eight. But if there is an emergency and you need me, call Tyson and he can pull me off set and I will come home. No matter what.”
“Fuck them, you’re more important.”
I can’t help but smile at him. I know that he’d give up this life if I wanted him to...or if the right opportunity came around to walk away from it. “That won’t be necessary, but I can’t promise you will come home to a sober me. You might come home to a drunk mess.”
He doesn’t smile. “I’d prefer sober, but know that I do understand. I don’t have to work tomorrow, so please, stay sober so we can talk when I get home.”
“All right. I promise to try.”
“Alcohol is never the answer, Cami, and you know that.”
I nod and he kisses me again. “You better go, you’re gonna be late.”
“No, I am going to get there and sit around for three hours while they cover me in makeup. I might as well go back to sleep.”
“Oh, the life of a beautiful actor.”
“Oh, the life, indeed.” He kisses me again and goes to the door. He looks back at me one last time, and I see it: fear. He’s afraid of what he is going to come home to, and I’m not sure I can blame him.
FIFTEEN
The house from the picture is off in the distance, and I take a deep breath, trying desperately to control my heart rate, but it is nearly impossible. “Now or never,” I say to myself and put the car in drive, but I can’t seem to pull my foot off of the brake.
I grab my cell, pull up Tristan’s name, and text him.
I can’t do this
There is an almost instant typing bubble that follows. Then the text comes through.
Yes you can, be strong, remember Layla, remember I love you.
Layla. The foyer in Tarah. Bitch mode. Turn it on. Deep breath.
I love you
I call Beau.
“Please, for the love of God, talk me out of this.”
“Cams, what am I talking you out of?”
“Seeing Bobby.”
“Oh, for hell. Damn, Cams. No, I will not talk you out of this, you need to do this. You need to get it off of your chest. You’re strong, you’re beautiful and I love the living shit out of you.”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“I’m coming up there.”
“No. Dang, girl, stay in Phoenix with Mick, he needs you more than I do.”
“Bullshit, Cameron. I am coming. I’ll see you tonight.” And just like that she’s gone.
“Thanks so much.”
My phone chimes.
Love you Beautiful
I put my phone down and slowly pull my foot off of the brake, though I can’t quite move it over to the gas pedal, and I am thankful that I am far enough away from the house that I am hidden behind a hill and whoever is inside can’t see me sitting here like a damn idiot.
“Fuck it. Let’s do this.” I pump myself up, press the gas pedal and pull around in front of the house.
I take a deep breath and throw the keys on the front seat of the car. The likelihood that anyone would steal my car out here is nil. I climb awkwardly out of the car and walk the twenty steps to the door, taking a deep breath before pressing the doorbell.
A few moments later the door opens and I hold my breath.
“Good afternoon, ma’am, how may I help you?”
“I am looking for Bobby.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, no one here by that name.”
I breathe finally. “I’m sorry, I must’ve made a mistake.”
“Let her in, Alfred,” a man says, though I’m not sure if it’s actually Bobby.
Alfred? What, is he Bruce fucking Wayne?
The older gentleman steps aside to let me in.
The interior of the house is beautiful — log cabin style — and the walls are made from same logs you can see from the outside. It has a wide-open floor plan, and nearly every room can be seen from the doorway, but I don’t see the man behind the voice.
My eyes follow the line of the railing that leads to the second floor, and standing there at the top of the stairs is none other than Robert Enders, my father.
The visual steals my breath away, and I fall back against the door that Alfred just closed. My vision is blurry, but I can see him coming down the stairs.
“Alfred, get her some water, please.”
He comes to a rest at the bottom of the stairs just as I straighten myself out. But all I can see is red. I take the three steps to close the distance between us and I slap him hard across the face, then the tears come, hard and fast.
“You son of bitch! You know what bothers me about this most? Not only did I have to bury you once but, goddammit, I will have to do it again. I will have to go through that again!” I’m yelling, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t flinch. He stands there and takes my words. “Just when I was starting to accept who I am, what I am, and where I belong in this fucking world, your goddamn package shows up and completely destroys everything!”
I expect him to interrupt me, to stop me, to want to talk to me, but he doesn’t say a word.
“You throw me under the bus with your fucking business. Leave me no choice but to do your job. You force me to have to deal with my brother, who is an even bigger dick than you are. You’ve forced me to hate you with every fiber of my being because of the things you’ve done to me. Then, goddammit, I have to learn about it all over a fucking video. You couldn’t do it yourself. You couldn’t fucking explain it to me yourself. You selfish fucking bastard.”
I turn to reach for the doorknob and open the door to leave, but he is behind me, holding the door closed.
“Fuck you, Robert! Fuck you and all your goddamn high horses. I hate you! I hate you! I hate—” The tears overcome me and I fall to the floor; all the fight is gone and I can’t fight with him anymore. “I have to get out of here,” I say, but my words are weak, just as weak as I am.
“I am an asshole, I’m selfish, and I deserve to be hated with every ounce of who you are, Cami. Believe me, I regret everything I’ve ever put you through in your life. I regret that I couldn’t make things right with you, and more than anything, I regret that you never felt an ounce of the love that I have for you. But Cameron, that is my burden to bear, that is my mistake to live with for the rest of my life.” I hear him take a deep breath. “I faked my death because I had no choice. Either I fake my death and disappear or be dead for real. I needed a way to free my life up in the best way that would protect you. I couldn’t just walk away from my life and go into hiding. I had to make sure that no one knew about you, and that no one suspected otherwise. I needed to give up everything just so that I could have you in my life. I had no choice, but now I need the chance to prove it to you.”
He helps me to stand up. I follow his lead and he leads me to a couch in the living room, but he doesn’t leave my side as I take a seat.
“I was trying, I was trying so unbelievably hard to pull back my Bold responsibilities. I wanted to try and be a father to you. I was a father to you for years, I was the only thing that was there for you. She gave me no choice. I would’ve rather had you on the other side of the world than stuck in a life with her. You deserved so much better, and I failed at giving it to you.”
The tears are starting to hurt, starting to burn as they stream down my cheeks.
“Did it ever occur to you that this pain is caused because you’re capable of the love you thought you never felt? Of the love I am sure you feel for Tristan.”
Tristan’s name coming from his lips pulls me from my trance. “How—”
“Cami, I’m not blind. I do own a computer, a TV, and other means of finding things out, and I’m not going to lie, it makes me happy to see you two together.” His voice is soft, comforting, and more than anything reassuring.
I just stare at him. He’s the same as he was the last time I saw him, except his hair is a little lighter and his skin a little more rugged, and I realize that this year plus of isolation has been hell on him. “Why didn’t you just quit?” I have so many questions and that’s the f
irst one that comes out.
“You know better what that answer is now than what it would have meant a year ago. Bold was in trouble. If I’d walked away, abandoned ship in its time of need, the company would have crumbled. I would have rather died than see the company that took everything away from me, that I worked so hard for, fold. I knew that if I died, the company would right itself with the business insurance, that you would take over the company and breathe new life into it.” There is a deep sadness in his eyes. “I never wanted to see you tied to Bold the way that I was, and I knew you never would be. I knew, deep down, that your age and hatred of me would slow down your taking over the company and that you would blame me or think I was punishing you.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“So I wasn’t wrong?”
I shake my head.
“Cami, I can’t make right my wrongs, but I can try and make right your future and mine. No matter what the cost. If you tell me to stay away, I will. If you tell me to go to hell, well, I’ve already been there, but I will gladly go back there again.” He takes a deep breath before continuing. “That choice is yours.”
“What about Mark?” I ask; I am not the only child he owes an apology to.
“Mark is more complicated than I ever thought he would be. I knew as soon as he put every dollar of his inheritance into a charity there was no coming back from that. I won’t try with him. I can’t, he won’t listen. He would rather kill me himself than see me again.”
“I’m not so sure I don’t want to do that.”
He laughs a little.
I can’t help but laugh, but at the same time I want to cry. “I still hate you.”
He sobers. “If you didn’t still hate me, I wouldn’t believe you were sincere. You have every right to hate me, and I know full well that this cannot be fixed in one conversation, but it is a damn good place to start, don’t you think?”