His words spark something in my brain that I’ve been toying with for the past few months. Maybe it’s time to start looking at the HVAC job as a career, that I might be at the point in life where things just are the way they are. Go in all the way because . . . this is it.
I’ve always felt like something was going to change, that if I peddled along, busted my ass, kept going for long enough, eventually there would be a turning point. That things would get easier. That I’d get the stability and straightforward life I’d always craved.
Maybe that’s not true.
Maybe it’s always a struggle. Realization is starting to set in that maybe this life is my life. Whatever hopes I had of rising above my current situation, of starting my own business, of making something out of myself, isn’t really going to happen. Maybe the stars were just stacked against me from the night my inebriated father fucked my mother.
I’ve been considering I need to accept all this and move forward accordingly, being real with myself about what’s what. Before that can work its way into my psyche, my brother groans.
“Ryder is moving around. Shit.”
“So I have that to look forward to,” I say, half-kidding.
“You still want us? Look, Dom, if not it’s no big deal. We’ll figure—”
“Damn it. If I didn’t want you to come, I wouldn’t have offered.”
“You know I appreciate it, right?” he says. The relief is evident, lingering on the last note. “I’ll help out with the rent. With groceries. Whatever you want.”
“We’ll figure it out.” I look across the hall into the dark bathroom. “There’s a bed in the guest room. If you want to bring his kid bed with you, you can fit it in there. Or one of you can take the couch.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it all sorted.” He heaves another breath. “Did you mention it to Cam?”
Her face pops up in my mind and I fall back on my sheets, wishing she was lying a few inches over and waiting on me to end the call and curl up next to her to listen to her lecture me about the cut above my eye. “Yeah, I told her.”
“She okay with it?”
“It’s not her decision.”
“So that’s a no?”
“It’s a ‘I didn’t ask her opinion,’” I tell him. “Why would I? I fuck her sometimes. That’s it.”
“Oh, that’s it, huh?” His laugh makes me cringe. “I think not, little brother.”
“Okay. I fuck her often. Better?”
“Sure. If that makes you happy, I don’t give a shit. But I think it’s a little deeper than that.”
He waits for me to respond, but I don’t. Not immediately. I think about his question and how I can navigate these waters. Was my assessment of my relationship with Camilla accurate? Fuck no. But should it be? Definitely.
It’s my fault I see her so damn much. I can’t help myself. And as much as I’d like it to be just for the sex, even I know it’s not. That’s what fucks me—the non-fucking. That’s where I’m going to get so burned I’m afraid I’ll be unrecognizable.
“You know, it’s okay to actually feel something for someone, Dominic.”
“You’re using my whole name now. Is that some kind of hint that you mean business?”
“That’s my way of telling you to listen to me before you go messing up a lot of shit,” he sighs.
My abs strain as I sit back up, my eye starting to pulse like it’s swelling. “Look at me,” I laugh, “and look at her. I’m sitting here with the taste of blood in my mouth from the cut inside my lip, and she’s lying on some thread-count bullshit I don’t even understand. You don’t think this isn’t already messed up?”
“No. I don’t.”
“And you claim to be the smart one,” I joke. “Look, I’m okay with this as-is. I see it for what it is. But don’t go telling me, ‘It’s okay to have feelings for someone, Dominic,’” I mock, “because it ain’t real. You don’t have feelings for something that’s gonna be busted in the days to come.”
“You’ve been with her almost a year,” he tosses out like he’s some kind of genius.
“Okay. Fine. You wanna go with me to meet her family? I mean, let’s just do the family-to-family thing. You’ve already made friends with her brothers, yeah?”
“Fuck them,” he growls.
“My point. That’s before they even know our uncle is the guy that almost tanked Barrett’s campaign. How’s that gonna look in their press release in the next election cycle?” I point out. “Look, I hate Nolan too. But that doesn’t matter. It’s all about appearances with these people, Nate. This would be a PR nightmare, and they’re all about avoiding the problem.”
“Again, fuck them.”
I shrug, even though he can’t see me. “And then the shit about—”
“Don’t tell me you’re going there. Our piece-of-shit father has nothing to do with anything.”
“But he does.”
“But he doesn’t,” he hisses. “Use whatever reasoning you want for not locking that girl down, but don’t let that motherfucker play a part. That’s not fair to her or you.”
“Fair or not, it’s life,” I say, feeling defeated.
He yawns through the line, saying something I can’t make out.
“I’m guessing you said you’ll see me tomorrow,” I say, glancing at the clock. “I gotta try to get some sleep.”
“Me too. I’ll start moving our stuff in tomorrow?”
“Sounds good. I’ll be working up north, but you have a key, right?”
“Yeah. Thanks again, Dom.”
“No problem. See ya tomorrow.”
“Bye.”
Dropping the phone to the blankets, I lie back again. My head feels foggy like it usually does after a sparring session.
Closing my eyes, I see Camilla’s face. The fact that I’m beginning to associate her with my life—that she’s what I envision when I have six seconds of quiet or how I automatically hope to see her in my bed—worries me a little. No, it worries me a lot.
I get why. She’s the full one-hundred percent. The problem? I’m not.
Camilla
“CAMILLA, WOULD YOU WAIT A moment, please?” My mother gives me her best no-nonsense look over her clasped hands.
“Sure.” I fight the anxiety in my chest as I say goodbye to my sisters-in-law and watch them walk out of Picante, a restaurant nestled inside a ritzy hotel downtown. We had lunch and discussed a charity launch the family is putting together through Landry Holdings. It’s been a nice afternoon . . . until now.
I know the look on her face. This isn’t Mom wanting to get pedicures tomorrow. This is her wanting to talk. Real talk. The kind I’ve been avoiding.
Smoothing out my dress, I retake my seat. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to see how you were, sweetie.”
“I’m fine,” I say, furrowing my brow. “Why would you ask?”
It’s a rhetorical question. There’s no doubt why she’s asking. The only thing I’m unsure about is why she hasn’t done this before now. Still, I’m not offering information freely. If she wants something, she’s going to have to ask for it.
She gives me a knowing smile. “It’s nice to see you in love.”
“What are you talking about?” I scoff, feeling my cheeks heat.
Her laugh makes me feel like a little girl called out on a white lie. “Darling, I’m not blind. Or deaf,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “Your brothers—”
“It was Lincoln, wasn’t it?”
“No,” she giggles. “It wasn’t.”
“Then it was Graham.”