He’d seen us. Together. And I knew the kind of pain that came with that sight.
I couldn’t believe he’d tried to fight Reese, and yet, I didn’t blame him. Maybe if I had been a stronger woman the day I’d walked in on him and Natalia, I would have tried to fight her, too. Maybe if I were the me who existed now, the woman who wasn’t okay with just numbly floating through her life and her marriage, perhaps then I would have pulled that woman off my husband by her long, blonde hair.
Perhaps I wouldn’t have stayed.
No, I couldn’t blame Cameron for reacting the way he did, and I couldn’t blame myself for him storming off the way he did, either. Maybe it’s what we both needed — space, distance.
I didn’t want to hurt Cameron, and yet it seemed I didn’t know how to stop.
I sighed once I was in the house, dropping my purse and suitcase at the door and kicking off my shoes. All I wanted was a hot bath and a glass of wine, and time alone.
Time to think. Time to process.
I abandoned my phone on the table in the foyer, too, knowing Reese would likely text or call soon. I wanted time away from him as much as I did away from Cameron. So, I left the phone, making my way to the kitchen to pour some wine, but I didn’t make it five steps before I stopped dead in my tracks.
Jane.
She was the first thought in my mind when I heard the chirps, but I recognized quickly that they weren’t hers. I knew her songs, just like I knew Edward’s, and the little tweets coming from our sun room were nothing like them.
They were a bit lighter, softer, sweeter.
I tiptoed toward the source of the sound, turning on lights as I slowly crossed our dining room. When I flipped on the switch that lit our sunroom, I gasped, hands flying to cover my mouth.
The beautiful, bright patio furniture I’d picked out for that room, the set that once took up most of the space inside it, had been slid over to the far right. And to the left, taking up half the room now, was the absolute last thing I expected to find.
An aviary.
Shiny, new welding wire stretched over beautiful stone, creating a home for lush greenery, bright perches and flowers to match, beautiful ficus trees, and the main attraction — two beautiful, happy, chirping finches.
I stood outside the aviary, watching them jump from perch to tree branch before they’d take flight and find a new place to land. They seemed to stick together like glue, the smallest one guiding the slightly larger one, and it was all I could do to just stare at them in wonder.
The smaller one was mostly white, it’s belly fluffy and bright as snow, with misshapen little patches of light brown dotting its head and back. It was small enough that I knew it would fit easily in the palm of my hand, just by sight alone, and I assumed from the way its mate followed that she was a girl.
The other, larger one — the one I presumed to be a male — had an entirely black head, with his feathers spiraling down into a sort of owl-striped white and black pattern from his lower back to his tail. When his partner hopped off her perch and took flight again, he quickly joined, and before I could stop it, I laughed.
My eyes were wet as I finally stepped inside the aviary, closing the door carefully behind me as I took in the scenery. It had been decorated with so much care, with attention to detail, from the colors of the flowers — the way they matched those of the hammock cover — to the trees, the way they grew in the corners and spread outward from their pots toward the center of the aviary. It was dark now, but I knew the sun would shine in on the aviary and cast beautiful shadows over the stone.
In the corner, next to the hammock, was a small, softly running waterfall that would offer clean water to our new friends.
And right beside it was a photo of Jane and Edward.
I fell into the hammock, shaking my head in wonder.
Cameron had built me an aviary.
I didn’t know why I was shocked, or even surprised in the slightest, because it was exactly something he would do. It was classic Cameron, to take his hands and build something he believed would bring me joy.
Not only had he been working so hard to give me the words I needed to hear, to let me inside his guarded heart and mind, but he had also spent his entire weekend building me an aviary.
It was the most selfless act, the most caring and thoughtful way to show me his love.
And with that realization, I choked on a sob, surrendering to my tears as the birds took flight again.
I watched them for a while before I buried my face in my hands, letting my palms absorb my cries. Everything hurt — the pain in my chest, the hole in my heart, the love I felt for both men, and more than anything, the love they had for me.
I’d never understood how love could hurt before, how it could be the knife between your ribs. It wasn’t until that exact moment that I realized love hurts more than anything, because it’s all we want, and yet it never comes easy.
Minutes turned to hours in that aviary as my tears dried on my face, and I watched my new friends fly, listening to their songs until they both settled into the same nest together. They cuddled tight and snug, their chirps softening, and with me still sitting in the hammock, they fell asleep together.
It wasn’t too long after they’d fallen asleep that I heard the front door creak open, and I stood, making my way out of the aviary as quietly as I could. I rounded the corner of our sunroom just in time to watch Cameron lock the door behind him, and when he turned back around, I nearly fell to my knees.
He looked miserable.
His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with shadows, and his shoulders sagged with what felt like the weight of the universe. He swallowed when he met my gaze, but no words came. I searched him for some hint of drunkenness, but found nothing. He’d drowned in his suffering instead of a bottle, and somehow, it made me feel worse that he was sober.
“You built this…” I whispered after a moment, my hand sweeping back toward the aviary. “You built this for me?”
Cameron’s eyes flicked to the sunroom before they found mine again. “I did.”
I smiled, though tears built in my eyes again. I couldn’t believe there were any left.
“It’s beautiful, Cameron. I… I don’t have words.”
“I hoped it would make you happy,” he said.
“It has.”
Cameron watched me then, something between a smile and a grimace crossing his face before he hung his head, shaking it slightly.
“I’m going to bed,” he said after a moment, crossing to our stairs. I stared as he climbed the first few steps before I moved to follow him.
“Wait,” I called, and he paused, though he didn’t turn to face me. “Maybe we should talk… about what happened.”
Cameron looked over his shoulder, offering only his profile, and that was enough for me to see the broken man I’d made out of my husband.
“I’m sorry, Charlie. I wanted to talk, before… but I can’t now. Not tonight. I’m sorry.”
I took a few steps up. “Can you at least try?”
Cameron shook his head again, but didn’t answer, climbing the rest of the stairs with his silence answering me, instead. I stood there on the step third from the bottom and listened as he shut the door — the one to the guest bedroom, not our own.
My hands gripped the railing tight as I lowered myself to the stairs, leaning my back against the wood and gazing into the sunroom from where I sat. I could see just the corner of the aviary from that angle, but I could still imagine how the birds looked inside it, snuggled into their nest together, a team already.
I decided then to name them after Scarlett and Rhett, from Gone With the Wind.
They were the only ones who slept in our house that night.
Reese
The Friday after the conference, I finally got time alone with Charlie again.
“This is so nice,” Charlie said, carefully sitting down on the blanket I’d just laid out for us.
She tilted her head up t
oward the sun, the rays of it casting her face in a warm glow as she peeled off her light scarf and extended her legs. They were bare under her flowy skirt, one that was modest, cut under the knees. But she hiked it up a little, getting some sun on her thighs, and I couldn’t help but stare as I took a seat next to her.
“I’m just glad I could steal you away,” I said, opening the reusable bag I’d packed for us that morning.
She glanced at me, her eyes softening. “Me, too.”
It was a beautiful day, a sneak peek of what spring would be like once it was in full swing in Pennsylvania. The sun was warm, though it was chilly in the shade, so I packed a picnic for Charlie and me and convinced her to eat outside with me.
It’d been too long since I held her.
Five days shouldn’t feel like forever, but with her, it always did. I knew she was going home to Cameron every night, and while hearing that he was barely talking to her should have made me feel better, it didn’t. Regardless of how he used his time, he still got to have every night with her, while I only had the minutes I managed to steal her away at school.
Blake living with me made it nearly impossible to see Charlie after school.
And though we spent as much time as we could together while we were at Westchester, there wasn’t much time to go around. We’d get to school early when we could, have our coffee together and talk, and then we’d see each other at lunch — but even then, we were surrounded by other teachers.
Yesterday, I’d scouted the campus until I found a sunny spot behind the music center — one no one would walk by unless they were cutting behind the school, which wouldn’t make sense. It was shorter to go the front way, and the back didn’t have any sidewalks or paths to walk. It was just a little sunny hill with a few trees lining the fence.
It wasn’t much, but it could be ours.
I only unpacked the grapes before I couldn’t resist touching Charlie any longer.
Popping the top on them, I offered a red one to her, and once it was in her mouth, I pulled her into me. She giggled, adjusting herself until she was comfortable in my grasp, and then, we both sighed.
I’d seen her. We’d had a little time together. But it wasn’t the same as this — having her in my arms, in a place no one else existed, with no one else watching.
“How’s this?”
She sighed again, folding her arms over where mine held her. “Perfect.”
“Yeah?”
Charlie leaned a little to the left, just so she could tilt her eyes up to meet mine. “Yeah. It’s nice to get outside, to be away from everyone.” She shrugged. “Especially since being at home isn’t exactly easy right now, either.”
I kissed her nose, holding her in my arms as I balanced my chin on her head. She picked up another grape and her eReader, and I held her as she read, letting my mind wander.
I knew she was having a rough week.
She was still going home to Cameron every night, but from what she’d told me, they barely talked. He was more of the man he’d been when I first showed up, and while that worked in my favor, it seemed to kill Charlie.
Which, in turn, killed me.
I didn’t know how to help her. Sometimes I’d let her talk about him, about how she was feeling, and pretend it didn’t feel like she was dragging a rusty blade down my back. Most of the time, I’d tell her I was sorry and that it would all be okay, all the while secretly wishing Cameron would continue to be a dumb ass.
Charlie was sticking to her word, giving him the time she’d promised, and he was wasting it.
I wasn’t surprised.
It couldn’t have felt good, seeing Charlie in my arms that day we’d come home from the conference. I remembered what it felt like the night I saw him kiss her at her parents’ house after we’d had dinner, and that was only my first week back in town.
But I wasn’t sorry, and I refused to back off to give him the comfort and time he wanted. Just like he wasn’t going down without a fight, neither was I.
“How are the birds?” I asked after a while.
Charlie put her eReader away, sitting up to face me. “They’re so sweet. I love them. They remind me a lot of Jane and Edward, but they have their own personalities.” She chuckled. “I’ll say this — Scarlett is even more feisty than Jane was, and she’s definitely the leader. Wherever she goes, Rhett follows.”
I smiled, though it hurt. She was happy — those birds made her happy — but I hadn’t given them to her. They’d been a gift from Cameron, along with an entire aviary.
I couldn’t do things like that for her.
Not yet.
But, one day, I vowed that I would. I’d build her the house of her dreams, and fill it with whatever she wanted — books, birds, baby grand pianos. Hell, if she wanted a moat, I’d dig it myself — just to make her feel like the queen she was in my eyes.
“Are you ready to eat?”
She nodded. “I’m starved.”
Smiling, I dug through the bag, pulling out the sandwiches I’d made us. I passed one over to Charlie, and she laughed as soon as she unwrapped it.
“Stop it! Is this a Fluffernutter?”
“What else do you have at a picnic?” I asked incredulously.
Her eyes were wide as she unwrapped the rest of it, giggling as the white marshmallow goo dripped onto her fingers. “Oh, my God. I’m so excited. I haven’t had one of these since I was a kid.”
“Well, what are you waiting for?”
I unwrapped mine as she took her first bite, and as soon as she did, her eyes rolled back until she closed them completely, a sated moan leaving her lips.
“Ohmahgawd,” she said around the mouthful. “Thish ish heaven.”
It was my turn to laugh.
I took my own first bite just as she smacked her lips together. “It’s stickier than I remember.”
Digging into the bag, I pulled out another old favorite — a little plastic bottle of red Kool-Aid.
Her eyes lit up again, and she snatched it out of my hands eagerly.
“I feel ten again!”
“But with bigger boobs.”
She laughed, almost spitting out her first sip. When she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, a grin was left behind it.
“Best picnic ever.”
“I’m glad I could make you smile. I just wish I could see you more.”
Her eyes softened then, and that very smile I was thankful for slipped away.
She took another bite, an easy silence falling between us. And I knew in that moment, she was thinking about him.
It was killing her, being torn between the two of us, and I hated that I couldn’t take that pain away. He’d asked her for more time, and she was giving it to him. All I could do was hold her hand through it, and remind her that — if she chose me — happiness was less than a month away.
So, I reached over for her eReader, pulling back up the book she’d been reading, and with a mouth full of Fluffernutter, I picked up with the top line.
Charlie laughed, swatting at my leg, but then she leaned into me, her head resting on my shoulder as I continued reading in a more serious tone.
And that’s how easy it was.
We just sat there in the sun, eating sandwiches and reading together, and it felt like everything was right in the world. Charlie was my home, and I was hers. It was that simple, even though the world we lived in seemed so chaotic.
As long as we were together, it didn’t matter what we did.
I just hoped we’d actually be together in the end.
Charlie
That Sunday, I took advantage of the nice weather and spent the day in my garden.
The flowers and plants we had adorning the front of our house were beautiful, and I loved the way they drew eyes to our home, but it was my garden in the back that was my pride and joy. Only Cameron and I got to enjoy it, along with our close family and friends, and that was what made me love it even more.
It was like our own little tr
easure, reserved for our guests and ourselves. We didn’t need to show it off, and for that reason, I could do whatever I wanted back there.
Our back garden expanded throughout the yard, but my favorite part was the little corner near our sunroom. It was where our patio furniture sat, complete with a fire pit that we loved to use in the summer, and it was where I got the most creative with my plants.
In the winter, I watched most of my garden die, knowing only half of it would return once the weather was warmer. Most of it, I’d have to replant, but I didn’t mind. That was what I loved most about gardening — it was a never-ending task.
My garden always needed me, no matter what season it was. Whether it was for sowing, clearing weeds, watering, or just being there to enjoy its beauty, I was necessary for the garden, just as it was necessary for my soul.
Though spring was still far from being in full bloom, I spent that Sunday clearing away the dead plants and flowers, tilling the soil, and using the compost we’d saved to enhance the soil. I still wasn’t sure exactly what I wanted to plant for spring and summer, but I had ideas, and I knew that no matter what I chose, the soil needed to be primped and primed.
My mind was free to wander as my hands worked, and as always, it seemed to drift back and forth easily from Reese to Cameron. There was so much to look at and do in the garden that, thankfully, my thoughts couldn’t run too deep. But like a shallow creek, they filtered through me soft and quiet, an ever-present hum within me.
Cameron had pulled back into himself.
After coming home to the aviary, I thought he would open up to me again. I thought he would let me in, continue the connection we’d managed to find during our weekend getaway. But he’d been hurt by seeing me with Reese — and though I couldn’t blame him for that, I also didn’t see it as an excuse.
I had to see him with Natalia, after all, and I’d survived.
What He Always Knew (What He Doesn't Know Duet Book 2) Page 14