by Hazel Parker
“Why do you think I owe you any explanation? We never owed each other anything before. That was the beauty of our friendship, and I would like to keep it that way.” Camden turned away from Vaughn and pushed through the doors.
From what Camden could tell, he didn’t follow her and she was relieved. She wasn’t sure how much more pressure she could take from him. Deep down she knew he had a right to know about their daughter, but Camden was still clinging tight to the belief that not knowing was better.
Back at the table, Camden took her place beside her mother. No one looked in her direction, no one missed her absence. Camden looked around the room for her father. She was anxious to leave, the club no longer feeling as welcoming as it had earlier. Camden spotted her father, standing amongst a group of men talking boisterously.
When he saw her from across the room he excused himself and headed over to join them. Camden was relieved that he wasn’t going to draw this out any longer. Camden didn’t see Vaughn re-enter the room, but regardless, she was eager to get this over with and get home.
*****
Camden woke to the sounds of Isla jabbering in the next room. She yawned and stretched in bed before crossing the hallway to pick up Isla out of her crib. Some days she really missed sleeping in.
Last night had been very long, and only somewhat productive. Camden and her parents managed to make it through a polite conversation, which was a feat in itself, but the result was somewhat stilted. Begrudgingly, her father consented to her mother inviting Camden and Isla to holiday dinners. And Camden could talk to and see her mother whenever they pleased.
As for her father, he would prefer they met while he was at work. Camden was disappointed that her father still treated her like she was an errant teenager, like he couldn’t acknowledge that she had been responsible for herself and Isla for two years without his stern guidance. Camden sighed as they made their way to the kitchen. It was a victory in any case. It just didn’t really feel like it.
Camden didn’t work Sundays, so she and Isla had the day to themselves. As per their usual Sunday ritual, Camden made pancakes and then they headed to the library before coming home and playing until naptime. Camden tucked Isla into her crib and quietly closed the door.
She headed to the living room and sat, being given the first chance to think through the events of yesterday. She looked at her phone; it was late afternoon. She had half expected her mom to have called by now, excited to meet Isla. Apparently not. Camden rested her head on the back of the couch and let her eyes close. She bit back the disappointment, the loneliness.
The knock on her front door caused her to blink open her eyes. She crossed the small room to the door and pulled it back, inhaling a sharp breath at the sight of Vaughn Kincaid standing at her door. He was dressed casually, a look she rarely saw him sporting at the club, in dark jeans, a black Henley, Oxfords.
Camden fought to stand her ground when all she wanted to do was shut the door and run. After the disappointment with her parents, she couldn’t bear to be kicked down by someone else she cared about. But he was here, that was more than she could say about her parents.
“How did you find me?” she whispered, stepping out of the house and pulling the door closed behind her.
“I followed you after you left the club last night,” he said, casually, like a man accustomed to people never questioning his motives.
“You followed me?”
“It sounds creepier than it actually is. Well, no, probably not. But I did it with good intentions.” Camden raised an eyebrow in doubt. “Really. I wanted to make sure you were safe. You were so cold last night. All your energy and enthusiasm seemed to be gone. And you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Maybe there was a reason for that,” Camden said, her eyes focusing on him somewhere at forehead height.
“I wouldn’t know because you wouldn’t talk to me, Cam. Which is strange, because we both know how much you like to talk,” he said with a smile playing on his lips. Camden couldn’t muster up the effort to return it. There wasn’t anything funny about him being here.
“I’m sorry, Vaughn, but I can’t do this with you right now.”
“Do what? Now you can’t even stand to be around me anymore?” She could hear his temper start to rise, but she didn’t care. Whatever game they were accustomed to playing was long over.
“Please, Vaughn. I think you should go.”
“No, not until I’ve said what I came here to say. Let me come in.” When Camden didn’t answer him, eyes still looking above his own, Vaughn continued. “If you’re going to be stubborn about it, I’m just going to have to talk to you out here. After you left, and it became apparent that you weren’t coming back, I was pissed.
“I tried everything I could to think of where to find you. But when I stopped to think why I was so mad, I realized it was because I missed you. We had something together. Something vague, but real, and I was mad that you left before I realized I wanted something more.”
He looked proud, triumphant. He looked at Camden like she should fall at his feet, grateful for the opportunity.
“And you never considered what I wanted?”
“Well, I guess I’m coming to realize that it wasn’t me,” Vaughn’s voice started to rise again, never one to take rejection well.
Camden fixed her stare on the ground, silent. There was so much she was leaving unsaid, so much about how she felt that she couldn’t say to him. In any other scenario, she would have fallen for him, and part of her wished she could allow herself to do so still. She couldn’t allow herself to take the risk on another game when there was so much at stake. Neither said anything for a moment, but she could feel his eyes on her. She stepped back and put her hand on the door knob, about to put an end to this conversation, when he made her pause.
“Where is he?” he asked, quietly, darkly.
“Who?” She looked at him now, confusion gracing her features.
“Your husband?”
“Why would you think I’m married?” Camden asked, bewildered.
“It’s the only thing that fits. You took off with no warning, your parents are pissed at you. I figured you ran off with some guy that your parents disapproved of. I don’t know why I never thought of it before.” Vaughn seized her hand on the knob, moving it away. “So, where is he? Maybe he would like to know what you and I were up to last night. Or maybe we should tell him you were fucking me the same time you were planning to run off with him.”
Vaughn shouldered his way into the house, despite Camden’s attempts to block his path.
“Vaughn, stop. Please, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for.”
“Then there shouldn’t be a problem with me looking around, right?”
Vaughn stormed through the empty living room and into the tiny, galley kitchen. Finding nothing there, he turned and made his way down the hallway, opening doors as he went. Finding nothing in the first two doors, the bathroom and Camden’s room, Vaughn made his way to the last door down the hall.
Camden darted in front of him, trying to stop his barrage.
“Not that one, Vaughn,” she said, holding her hands up in front of him.
He didn’t listen. Stepping around her, Vaughn opened the door to Isla’s room, only to retreat at the sound of her cry. Pushing him out of the way, Camden rushed into the room and scooped her up. With her back to the door and to Vaughn, Camden soothed the little girl, cooing at her softly. When Isla had stopped crying, Camden whirled around on Vaughn, who watched from the doorway. This time it was Camden’s turn to be angry.
“Are you happy, now? Did you prove your point yet? There’s no one else here. Just us. But it’s good to know that you think I’m a slut just because I rejected you,” she said, anger rising.
“There’s no one else?” he asked, brows knitting.
“No, there’s never been anybody else.”
“Never? What are you saying?”
Camden diverted her eyes from hi
s, her voice lowering.
“I’m saying that you’re the only man I’ve ever been with, Vaughn. So if you’re looking for someone to get mad at, it’s just me.”
She flicked her eyes back up to Vaughn, needing to see his reaction. He stood motionless, staring at Camden and Isla through unseeing eyes. For a full minute, he stood in place, and would have for longer had Isla not started squirming in Camden’s arms. Camden adjusted her grip on Isla, hoisting her higher on her hip.
“She’s hungry. If you want to leave, then I won’t hold it against you, but if you want to talk, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Camden walked past Vaughn and into the kitchen. She wasn’t sure what to expect him to do next. Camden hadn’t expected to tell him about Isla, and definitely not in this way. But it was out in the open now and Camden tried to ready herself for the barrage of questions he would have.
Camden sat Isla in her high chair and sprinkled a handful of cheerios on the tray to keep her entertained while Camden cooked. Turning to the fridge, Camden began preparing a quick supper for Isla. As Camden cooked, she heard Vaughn approach from behind. He pulled a chair out from the table and sat, watching Camden at the stove, Isla happily crunching cereal.
Camden finished cooking the pasta and vegetables and set the dish in front of Isla, who in turn started picking up fistfuls of pasta. She sat across from Vaughn, leaned back in her chair, and looked at him. He was still looking at Isla, studying her with his shrewd assessing eye.
He reluctantly turned his eyes from his child to Camden. She returned his stare. Camden tried to read Vaughn’s face, unsure of what to expect, but he hid behind the same, guarded look of concentration that he used when discussing work. Finally, she wasn’t able to hold back her curiosity.
“So?”
“I guess that explains where you’ve been.”
Camden smiled, relieved he wasn’t angry anymore, though there was a certain touch of sadness in his voice now. “Yes. I moved not too long after I found out.” He nodded, pensive, quiet. “It’s wasn’t much, but it’s all I could afford. And it served us well.”
“So your folks were mad you got pregnant?”
“No, they were pretty supportive when I told them. What made me fall from their good graces was when I wouldn’t tell them who got me pregnant.”
“You never told them?”
“No, and my father was already mad enough. That was just the icing, I guess.” Camden shrugged.
“That’s a shitty way to treat your kid. And grandkid.”
“They were clear on their expectations. It was my decision to not tell them, so I accepted the consequences.”
“And last night?”
“Was my mom’s attempt at reconciliation.”
“So they’ve never met Isla?”
“No.”
Vaughn was quiet again. Whatever he was thinking, he preferred to keep it to himself. Camden could only guess what was going through his mind. Vaughn sat leaning forward with his forearms on his legs, watching as Isla smeared red sauce across her face. He smiled.
“She’s sweet.”
Camden watched as the bowl of pasta got tipped upside down and Isla’s tiny hands began mashing the sloppy mess. Camden shook her head and sighed. “She is.”
“How old is she?”
“Eighteen months.” She watched Vaughn’s mind calculate.
“So you knew you were pregnant when you left?”
“It’s the reason I left.”
He sat back and turned to Camden. “You really don’t like me that much.”
“It wasn’t that. I just didn’t see us having any kind of future together, and if I would have revealed that you were the father, my parents would have pushed for us to get married. I didn’t want to be trapped in a marriage with someone who didn’t have the faintest desire to get married to anyone, let alone me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. You know as well as I that you vigorously fend off any marriage-material woman your mom sends your way. Oh, and what would your mom have thought? She already disliked me. She would have thought this was a ploy to trap you. She would have blamed me for tarnishing your reputation.”
“Who cares about my mother? And that’s not what I was talking about. The part about me not wanting to marry you.”
“With all those debutants chasing after you, I was so far from right for you. I can see if maybe we were in the same circles and I got pregnant, then maybe I could see us making it work. But the only thing we had in common was our weekends at the club. Infatuation. A Kincaid doesn’t end up with a girl like me.”
Isla fussed in her chair, calling for Camden. Camden reached for a wet cloth and tried to wipe off some of the wreckage, then picked her up. Isla giggled and fisted a handful of hair, smearing a hidden handful of pasta sauce as she did. While Camden tried to tug her hair from Isla’s tiny grasp, Vaughn stood and walked over to stand in front of the two. Isla turned her big, dark eyes up to his, then buried her head in Camden’s shoulder.
“She must be able to sense that I know nothing about kids.”
“Well, she’s really smart, so probably.”
Vaughn’s eyes darted to hers, but then caught her smile. He returned it.
“Can I hold her?” he asked, tentatively.
Camden passed the squirmy girl over to Vaughn. With an awkward grasp, Vaughn tried to hold her in front of him. Isla studied him with wide eyes, gauging him. When she was done assessing whether or not to scream at him, Isla reached out a tiny hand and with a veracious grip, pulled Vaughn’s nose.
He yelped and pulled her off of him. Camden laughed as Vaughn fended off Isla’s tiny attack, made all the more funny by Isla’s giggles. Soon tiring from the game, Isla squirmed in his arms, thrashing her little body. Vaughn looked at Camden, alarm in his eyes.
“You can set her down. She’s done with you for now.”
Vaughn set her down and watched as she toddled away, giggling.
“Well, I see she has your sense of humor,” he said, rubbing at his red nose.
“And your inability to take no for an answer,” Camden joked.
“So what do we do now?”
“That’s up to you. You’re under no obligation to stay.”
“And if I wanted to stay?”
“That’s fine too.”
Vaugh tagged along behind Camden and Isla as they started on their bedtime routine. By the time they all finally settled on the couch to read a story, Vaughn’s clothes were speckled with pasta sauce, bath water, and smears of diaper cream. Camden had been impressed at his willingness to participate in the chaos. Camden couldn’t read the look on his solemn face, but his eyes were soft and he hadn’t left yet. Perhaps there was hope that he would want to continue seeing his daughter.
When the story was finished, Camden picked their baby up and carried her past Vaughn to her room. Over Camden’s shoulder, Isla waved a tiny, weary hand at Vaughn and he returned it.
A few minutes later, when Camden returned from putting Isla to bed, she found Vaughn looking at the few pictures that hung on the wall, memories of her and Isla. Camden came to stand beside him. Vaughn touched a picture of Isla on her first birthday, all smiles and icing-covered hands.
“She looks like you here.”
“You think so? I always thought she looked more like you.”
“Oh no. Look at her eyes, full of mischief. She definitely looks like you there.” He flashed a smile down at Camden. “So, she’s really ours?
“Without a doubt. Are you upset?”
He blew out a breath, turning back to look at the picture. “No. I’m not upset that you got pregnant and had our baby. It’s just,” Vaughn stopped, struggling with the words to say. He stabbed a finger at the picture of Camden and Isla, taken in the hospital the day she was born. “Who was with you when this picture was taken?” he asked, frustration ringing through in his voice.
“My neighbor,
a friend, drove me to the hospital and sat with me.”
“So you chose that over me?” His eyes bore into hers.
“There was a lot that went into that decision; don’t say it so flippantly. It’s easy to look back now and say that you wanted to be a part of it, but you can’t be certain.”
“Cam, not only did you take away all the firsts I’ll never be able to get back with Isla, you took away the experience of being with you when she was born, when you were feeling shitty and needed someone to take care of you. You deprived us both of that experience. And you deprived me of being with you. I was serious when I told you that I missed you. And I’m kicking myself for not realizing how much you meant to me before it was too late. And for making you feel like you like you meant nothing more to me than a booty call.”