by J. L. Lora
Now, all he needed to do was face the past he'd put in the rearview mirror so many years ago.
CHAPTER TWO
Adrianna added another pink tulip to the bouquet for better balance, placed the candle holders on each side of it, and stepped back. She smiled. Every table was set with just a small variation on the centerpieces, to make them look unique but cohesive. Everything was as it should be, the walls and tablecloths pristine white, and the accent brick wall gave it a pop of color that made it chic, lived-in, and very Baltimore.
After five years, she still set the tables every day for opening. It was a pleasure, an indulgence, and it saved her money. She didn't need the staff as early. The only time she loved doing this more was during the weekends, when Bron was around to help her. Her daughter's artistic eye showed in her suggestions, and the customers got a kick out of their arrangements. She made a mental note of picking orange and purple flowers for the weekend. In the summer, there would be ranunculus and hydrangeas. Let's see what Bron does with those.
Adrianna went around the room, checking for garbage or dust hiding in the corners. Mi Tesoro, named after her greatest treasure—her daughter —was ready for the lunch crowd.
She peeked out through the glass panel. Canton Square was still pretty much empty, except for the late morning dwellers and the familiar figure sashaying down the block. She unlocked the door and her best friend, Lauren, walked right in. Ripped skinny jeans, sky-high stilettos and a white tank top with the words Adios to the B. S. clung to her skin. The shades, the shirt, the hand she held up, Lauren was in a mood.
"Don't say anything, I'm not human yet." Her friend strolled past her and made her way to the kitchen.
"Fine by me. I'll be in the office," she called out.
She’d barely made it through the office door when her phone rang. She placed it in her ear and began to riffle through her to-do tray.
"Miss Arenas?"
"Yes?"
"This is Loraine Walker, from La Salle Academy."
Her hands stilled. Why was her daughter's school director calling? "Did something happen to Bron?"
"Ma’am, please stay calm. I want you to know that we have dispatched a car there and called the police—"
“The police. What the hell are you talking about? Where is my daughter?”
“She left the premises. One of her friends says she went to a gallery in D.C. for some exhibit. This has never happened before. We don’t know how she was able to sneak out.”
"Are you telling me that my daughter bailed on school to go to some art exhibit? And you didn't know she left? Where were her teachers? Where was your security? And who did she supposedly go see…" It was on her desk, front page of the Baltimore Galaxy. Maryland Son Returns Triumphantly.
The blood drained from her head and the phone slipped from her hand, landing on the glass-topped desk. She had to find Bron. “Oh God.”
She grabbed her purse and ran out of the office, heading toward the door, but it swung open and her daughter walked in.
Adrianna dropped her purse and ran to hug her. "You are so grounded, for like ever. I can't believe you left school like that. What were you thinking, Bronwyn Alyxandra? You're not ever going anywhere, not school dances, not even to the bathroom by yourself. You'll stay in your room forever with your books, where I know where you are at all times."
"Mom, you're suffocating me." Bronwyn tried to pull away from her.
"I'm so angry with you right now. Your friend told the teacher you left to go to an art exhibit. Where was Miss Winter? How did you get here?"
She couldn’t make her hands stop roaming over Bron’s face and body.
“Miss Winter got sick earlier and she had to go home. I would have asked her to take me, but this was my only chance to meet him.” Her eyes drifted up and her head tilted back toward someone behind her.
It was then that Adrianna became aware that there was someone standing by the door. The looming shadow, the prickling on the back of her neck, the way her breath lodged in her throat. Oh God. Her head came up and face to face with the past. Summer days at the state park, kisses under the falls, posing for him by the lake, his body over hers, screaming fights…and heartbreak. Month after month of teary heartbreak.
Her lips parted but not even air came out. His green gaze cut through her and it was like time never moved. Except, his shoulders had almost doubled in size, filling his six-foot-three frame. His face no longer softened by boyish features. He was older, manlier.
"Cam." His name whooshed out of her lips.
"He gave me a ride here, Mom. He has a limo with a driver! It's nicer than Uncle Nathan's panty dropper."
Heat exploded all over her face. She looked down at the floor, urging the earth to swallow her. He was going to think she was a bad mother. "Language! What have I told you?"
Bron lowered her head. "I'm not supposed to repeat the things I hear Aunt Lo say because she’s an adult and I’m not."
Adrianna ran her hand through her hair and looked at him again. Thanks to the scare, she probably looked a hot mess. "Thank you for bringing her. Would you like to sit down?"
He nodded, his gaze shifting between her and Bron. Adrianna’s mouth grew more and more dry by the second.
She knew one day he’d find out and he’d come. She’d waited for this moment and tried to prepare for it. No, she wasn’t ready.
"I'll get you some cake!" Bronwyn offered cheerfully. "Would you like coffee? I'll bring it!"
If she weren't dying inside, Adrianna would have smiled. Bronwyn didn't even give Cam a chance to answer and left him staring after her. Her daughter was like a tornado at times. "Sit down, please."
He turned to her and she almost staggered back at the intensity of his gaze. Adrianna's knees turned into jelly. She hurried to take the chair across from the one she was offering him.
His head tilted toward Bron. "She's amazing, smart, and so much like you. I can’t believe how much she knows about art, brush strokes, and baseball. She told me she plays with her school."
Those were his first words and spoken with so much emotion the pressure in her chest built. She swallowed. "I wrote you. I wanted to tell…"
"My father told me." Cameron’s voice turned into ice. "I guess Tommy is a great husband and father. You look more beautiful than ever and she's…everything."
"Tommy?" she asked. What about her old high school boyfriend?
"Yes, Walter said you called to tell him that you and Tommy were getting married and having a baby and that you expected me to keep my promise to stay away from you…"
Her stomach rolled, much like the last time they'd been together. She smoothed a hand over it and shook her head. "Oh God, no. I’ve only seen Tommy once since the day after I last saw you." She stood up. "Cam, listen, there's something you need to know."
"I have cake for you," Bronwyn announced, placing a thick, glazed slice in front of each of them and then addressing Cam. "What kind of coffee would you like? We have a lot of different kinds. Colombian, French Roast, Hazelnut, Ugandan—which everyone swears by and we highly recommend."
"Ugandan. Do you have milk and sugar?" Cam asked her.
She formed her lips into a pout and pressed her index finger to her mouth as if thinking hard and then pointed at him. "Yes!" She walked away giggling.
His mouth drifted open a little and he grabbed the corner of the table with one hand. He turned widened eyes on Adrianna. It was all written there.
Cam knew.
CHAPTER THREE
It was Luciana’s expression. Cameron saw his sister on Adrianna’s little girl’s face. The devilish curve, the dimple, and the giggle his sister had yet to lose, even though she was in her twenties.
His heart set off into a gallop and his thoughts exploded into his skull. All the pieces swam around one possibility.
"How old is Bronwyn?"
"She's nine. She was born April 7, 2008."
H
is mind raced back to the summer they spent every second they could together. When he'd shrugged off baseball practice and scout appointments to sneak into her bedroom after her mother went to work. They’d kissed like they were starving for each other, fought like bitter rivals, and fucked like they’d invented it.
It had been the happiest time in his life. The aftermath of it was what Luciana referred to as the dark ages. He stole a glance as the child poured the coffee into a mug like she’d done a thousand times. She turned to look at him and gave him a smile he’d known all his life.
"She's mine, isn't she?"
Even as the question left his mouth, he couldn't fathom it. How was this possible?
The moments before her response were pure agony. No matter the answer, it would hurt like a baseball to the shin.
Tears shimmered in Adrianna's eyes and she nodded.
The blood furiously rushed to his head. His hand shook. He wanted to stand up and pace but was rooted to the chair. His world flipped upside down and Cameron drifted. When Adrianna's hand touched the back of his, he secured it in place with his free hand. He used her to steady himself.
Her teary eyes bore into his. "I wanted you to know, but your dad…it’s a long story." She swallowed. "Can you stay? Let me ask Lauren to manage the bistro so we can talk."
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. She brought up his father again and along with it, a rage inside him. Because Walter had known about this all along. He’d always encouraged Cam to stay away. His blood boiled and his hold on her hand tightened. Walter. Always fucking Walter.
"Here's your coffee," Bronwyn said to Cam. "Grape juice for you, Mom."
Both Cam and Adrianna removed their hands. Adrianna put her arms around her daughter, who looked at her tears and immediately frowned.
"What's wrong?"
There was such vulnerability in her voice and her eyes darted between them like she wondered if Cam had done something to her mom. Adrianna smoothed her hair and softly ran her hands over her face, smiling through her tears and for a second, Cam had to look away from the scene. He never forgot Adri's touch.
"Nothing's wrong. I’m just emotional. You know I get like that sometimes." Adrianna hugged her.
"Yeah. Like when I lost my first tooth and my kindergarten graduation?" Bronwyn turned to look at Cam. "She cried for a long, long time."
It hit him. He'd missed her whole life. For some reason a lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it back. "I bet it was a nice day."
"She also cried when I won the school art competition and when I made my painting of her for Mother’s Day." Bronwyn said, coming closer to him.
His hands itched to bring her closer, to touch her face and make sure she was real. She couldn’t be his. She was too perfect, too sweet. Instead, he balled his hands into a fist and placed them in his lap.
"Bron, would you like to keep Cam company while I talk to your aunt Lo? Then we’ll go home."
Bron’s eyes lit up. "Okay! Does this mean you're not mad and I'm not grounded anymore?"
"Oh, I'm mad and you're still getting grounded until the Orioles win the World Series." Adrianna leaned to pinch her cheeks before walking away.
Bronwyn turned to him with a smile. "I'll make her forget that she's mad."
Cam could see the hint of mischief in her eyes so much like his brother Chase’s. "How?"
Bronwyn shrugged. "She can't resist this face." She leaned towards him and rested her elbows on the table with her face in her hands. The smile spread and her cheeks strained towards her eyes.
Even though it was a game, and he was not supposed to give in, Cam's lips curved on their own. Definitely Chase.
"Oh cool! It works on you too."
She leaned back and dug into the cake and juice she’d brought for her mom.
CHAPTER FOUR
"What's your favorite thing to eat? What's your favorite thing to drink? What's your favorite painting? Where do you go for fun? Isn’t Ed Sheeran the best? Do you know him?"
The questions kept coming at a fast pace and Adrianna was amazed that Cam didn't lose his patience. He answered all of them, rarely taking his eyes off Bronwyn. He was under their child's spell. Adrianna understood. Bron had bewitched her from the moment she’d laid eyes on her after twenty-three hours of active labor.
She kept her gaze on them as she worked on dinner. Her own inner turmoil was hidden behind the hectic stirring of her spaghetti sauce.
She’d pictured this reunion at least once every day. In none of those scenarios, or her wildest dreams, did she see Bronwyn proudly showing her father her artwork displayed in their family room.
Cam praised it, told her it was impressive, and Adrianna smiled. He too recognized it for the masterpiece it was. She had it mounted on floating frames and hung in the most visible place in the room, over the fireplace.
"I don't know. My wings don't look as good as yours did in your Faceless Angel piece."
Cam’s gaze snapped to Adrianna. She smiled and nodded. "She actually does know all your published pieces."
"Yours are very good, Bron. You just need to work on making your strokes longer and dragging them out."
The little girl began to practice the movement with her right hand and he took it in his and guided it.
"Will you show me how to do it on canvas?" Bronwyn asked him.
"Of course. I will give you anything you ask me for," he answered and when his eyes drifted to Adrianna, her heart slammed against her ribs. For a second, she thought the offer wasn't solely for their daughter.
Don’t be ridiculous.
She went back to her panicky stirring, hoping to hide the way her hands shook.
They didn't get the chance to really talk until long after dinner. Bronwyn asked Cam a million more questions. She got him to talk about winning the World Series, how to hook your wrist to throw a curveball, even more painting, and the technique he used to sketch wings.
She also filled him in on the people in her life, her cool aunt Lauren, and how much fun she had with her uncle Nathan, whom she missed like crazy since he’d joined the Peace Corps. Her aunt and uncle always bought her things, took her to great places, and watched shows with her. She also told him about her best friend, Ayla, and her school nemesis, Suzanne, who probably—she whispered—snitched on her to the substitute teacher today.
Adrianna got her ready for bed way past her bedtime.
When she was dressed in her pajamas, she came out of the bedroom and sat by Cam on the couch. She put her arms around him and kissed his cheek.
"You'll be here tomorrow, right?" she asked, uncertainty betraying her tone.
He brushed his hand over her hair and tucked it behind her ears, "I'll be here."
Adrianna’s stomach sank lower through the whole scene. Her daughter was sweet and affectionate, but she was that way with the people she knew. Why the sudden affection for Cam?
She lay on the bed next to her daughter, and Bronwyn cuddled her head on her chest, with her arms around her. It was their nightly ritual, one Adrianna refused to part with, though her heart was thundering and her insides shaking.
"You like Cam a lot, huh?"
Her little girl nodded emphatically and yawned. "He's nice and not that A bad word the girl on TMZ said he is. He stares at me a lot."
"That's because you're so beautiful," Adrianna said, pinching her daughter’s nose.
Bronwyn looked up and put her little hands on Adri’s face. "He stares at you a lot, too."
Adrianna sidestepped the statement. "Why do you like him so much?"
Bronwyn gave her a sleepy smile. "That's personal, Mom."
•••
Cameron listened from the door and rushed back to the couch when the bed shifted and soft footsteps tapped on the hardwood. By the time Adrianna came out of the room and closed the door, he was rifling through the magazine on the coffee table, Bron’s school catalog. She looked around the room,
her hands clasped together like she couldn’t figure out where to sit. He could look at nothing else but her.
He’d found out he had a child today, his world flipped on its axis, and it all came back to Adrianna. Everything about her was the same and radically different at the same time. She still had the same bright, wide-as-a-mile, smile. The endless shade of rich, creamy skin he’d sketched over with his tongue and once immortalized in brown ochre. The color came close but would wither next to the real thing, the Faceless Angel Queen forged from a burning red hibiscus.
Their eyes met, and it was charged, like lightning through metal wires. His pulse revved up enough to force a hitch in his breath. His gaze slid down her no-longer rail-thin, but fuller, curvier body. Her breasts were now larger than a handful and her thicker ass made his mouth dry and his slacks tighten. She was a woman, no longer the eighteen-year-old girl who dumped, broke, and cursed him.
Would her skin still be as soft against my lips? The blood rushed straight down, tightening his groin. He squeezed the catalog too hard, crumbling the paper. He smoothed it out and set it aside.
She took the other end of the couch. A full cushion was between them as she sat and turned to face him, with her legs tucked under her. It took all his willpower not to move closer to her. Too many things stood between them, but his fingers itched to lose themselves in her hair and to kiss her mouth. He needed to know if her lips still tasted like summer peaches and glory, or if his imagination had embellished her with every passing second. No, I definitely should not touch her.
Her voice jarred him away from his thoughts.
"I found out I was pregnant when I was about six weeks along. I wasn't feeling well for a while, but I thought it was something else, so I didn't go to the doctor until I was forced to." She pressed her thumb to her hand as she spoke.