Just Like Love (Just Like This Book 2)

by Rebecca Gallo

  “This doesn’t feel right,” I said, restating my feelings of unease.

  Avery stood and patted me heartily on the back. “Go back to the hospital and spend time with Cami. Take care of your girl and your baby.”

  Avery left Anderson and me sitting in the conference room.

  “Am I crazy?” I asked him. “He’s never just given up.”

  Anderson simply shrugged. “I don’t know, man. You know him better than I do. But you know what they say, don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  The unsettled feeling I had that Palmer’s defeat came too easily stayed with me for the rest of the day. When I returned to the hospital, Cami was asleep in her bed and my father was snoring rather loudly in the recliner next to her bed. I couldn’t help but snap a picture of the two of them, passed out, and send it to Oliver.

  ME: She’s got him wrapped around her finger.

  OLIVER: It’s those damn pistachio macarons! He loves those little green cookies.

  ME: He always did have a sweet tooth.

  OLIVER: How’s she doing?

  ME: Just got here. I’ll let you know in a bit.

  I set my phone down on and walked softly over to my dad. I placed a hand on his shoulder and gently shook him awake.

  “How long has she been asleep?” I whispered.

  “About an hour.”

  I nodded my head. “Thank you for staying with her.”

  “You picked a good one,” he said as he stood. “I brought her some lemons. They always helped your mother.”

  I glanced at the canvas shopping bag that was bursting with the yellow fruit and questioned his definition of some. “I’ll call you in the morning,” I told him.

  I took his spot in the recliner next to Cami and reached out for her hand. I hadn’t been gone long, but any time spent away from her seemed like a lifetime. My eyes drifted over her, settling on her stomach. Our child was growing inside her. I leaned forward to rest my elbows on the edge of her bed before reaching out to place my hand right below her belly button.

  “Unbelievable,” I murmured. “Simply unbelievable.”

  Cami was released from the hospital a few days later. She was still nauseous but managed to keep down a little bit of broth every day until finally, she consumed an entire bowl. She also seemed to benefit from my mother’s miracle morning sickness cure – lemons. They were everywhere in her hospital room. I spent a few minutes each day slicing a fresh lemon and placing the slices in a bowl of water next to her bed. She swore she could smell the citrusy fragrance, but I couldn’t smell a damn thing. The nurses were also helpful in keeping lemon wedges in the refrigerator for her, so she could place a wedge or two in a pitcher of water.

  “I cannot wait to sleep in my own bed tonight,” she crooned from the wheelchair as a hospital volunteer pushed her to the front entrance.

  “I can’t wait to have you back in our bed tonight,” I told her with a devious half-smile that might have made the teenage volunteer blush.

  I had successfully spent the past few days dodging her questions about what happened between me and Palmer. All I told her was that it was resolved, and she didn’t need to worry about it. I counted my lucky stars that she accepted that answer because I didn’t want to tell her about the pit of doom that hadn’t left my stomach.

  Cami’s phone rang, and she glanced at the screen. Her brow furrowed, and the corners of her mouth turned down. “Lucinda is calling me again,” she said.

  “Again?” I hadn’t realized Palmer’s mother had been calling her all day. The pit continued to grow uncomfortable inside me.

  “She called yesterday too,” Cami said. “I hope nothing’s wrong.”

  “I’ll call her back for you when we get home.”

  The drive home from the hospital was short, but my mind raced with a million and one reasons why Lucinda Grayson was calling Cami. Only ten of those reasons were good. After I got Cami settled on the couch with a pitcher of ice-cold lemon water, I retreated to my office to call Lucinda.

  “Hi, Lucinda,” I said when she picked up the phone. “I’m returning your call.”

  “Oh, Garrett,” she said, sounding a little surprised. “I didn’t call you. Did I?”

  “No, you didn’t. You called Cami, but she’s resting right now.”

  “I hope everything is okay,” she asked.

  “Everything is fine. Great actually. Cami is pregnant.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m so happy for you both.” Except Lucinda didn’t sound happy. She sounded as though she was going to start crying at any moment.

  “Lucinda, what’s wrong?” I asked cautiously.

  “Well … it’s just that …” she stammered. “Palmer is missing.”

  “Missing? Did you call the police?”

  “Yes. He returned from Napa a few days ago, and we all had a wonderful dinner together on the patio. It was just like how it used to be,” she said wistfully. “The next morning, he left for work and never came home.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I told her.

  “I was just calling Cami to see if she had seen him while he was working in Napa. The two of you didn’t happen to see him, did you?”

  Her question put me in an awkward position. Should I lie and say we hadn’t seen him at all even though he was working on a jobsite forty-five minutes away? Or should I tell her the truth and add to her worry and grief?

  “Actually, Lucinda, our paths did cross a few times,” I said honestly.

  “I’m happy to hear that. I hated that he and Cami had a falling out and that she moved away before the two of them could reconcile.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger. “They didn’t,” I explained. “We saw each other, but it wasn’t on good terms. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

  On the other end, Lucinda Grayson sighed wearily. “The Army changed him. He wasn’t the same boy who enlisted. I don’t know what happened to my Palmer, but the man who came back was different. Harder, emotionless.”

  “We all come back different,” I told her. “Let me know if he turns up.”

  Our call ended, and I went to check on Cami who was sound asleep on the couch, one hand on her belly and a content smile on her lips.

  Three days later, Tim Grayson called to tell me that Palmer had been found dead.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Cami

  Garrett was acting strange. He stopped hovering to answer his phone, and when he returned almost an hour later, he sat down next to me on the couch, pulled me into his arms, and just held me. Then he got up again and disappeared for another hour. When he returned, his face was flushed, and he was breathing heavily as though he had just finished running a marathon.

  “Are you okay?” I questioned him.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” was his answer.

  He walked out of the room, and I gave him a minute before scrambling after him. I found him leaning against the dresser in our room, his head down and his body shaking. Slowly, I approached him.

  “Tell me what happened,” I asked him softly but firmly.

  Garrett looked up, his brown eyes glassy with tears. “Palmer is dead.”

  I stumbled but caught myself before I could tumble to the carpeted floor. “What did you say?” I whispered.

  “He’s gone,” Garrett stated again.

  “How? When?”

  Garrett turned toward me and opened his arms wide. I rushed toward him and buried my face against his chest. The sweat didn’t bother me. “I don’t want to upset you,” he said quietly.

  “Tell me,” I demanded, pulling away.

  “Cami, you’ll get upset, and I don’t want you to get sick.”

  “I’m going to worry myself sick regardless, Garrett. I knew Palmer my entire life. I want to know what happened.”

  Garrett relented. “Fine. But let me shower first.”

  I sat on the bed and remained there until he finished with his shower. My eyes rema
ined firmly on him as he moved around the room, a towel wrapped low around his hips and another in his hand that he used to rub his dark hair vigorously. He pulled clothing from one of the dresser drawers and silently got dressed before he sat down next to me with a heavy sigh.

  “The Coast Guard found him. He took his dad’s boat out and killed himself. They found the boat on the other side of Fox Island.” His explanation was slow and soft. “I don’t know anything else so please don’t ask.”

  “Are we going to Gig Harbor?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I already started making arrangements. Our flight leaves tomorrow morning.”

  Pushing to my feet, I headed to the closet and reached up to tug down a suitcase, but Garrett closed his large hand over mine, stopping me. His other hand gripped my waist as we guided the bag down together.

  “You need to rest,” he whispered, nuzzling his lips into my hair. “Doctor’s orders.”

  “Packing isn’t going to hurt anything,” I insisted.

  “No but thinking about why you’re going back to Gig Harbor will. Please, Cami. Let me do this.”

  It was hard to relinquish this kind of control because I didn’t want to sit still. That was probably worse, but as if to prove Garrett’s point, a sudden wave of queasiness hit me and sent me racing for the toilet. Puking was a daily part of my life now, but at least it wasn’t constant. I could eat a cracker or sip broth. Gatorade ice cubes and lemon water were staples in my diet now.

  Garrett shuffled into the bathroom and crouched beside me. He stroked my hair away from my face until I was done heaving. When I sat back, he looked at me with nothing but love and concern. He stroked the backs of his fingers gently down my cheek before reaching for a washcloth, which he offered to me.

  “It’s going to be a tough few days, so please just rest, baby.”

  I nodded as I lurched forward, and my head disappeared in the toilet.

  The rest of the day was spent horizontal, curled up in bed, fighting tears as I replayed every memory Palmer and I shared. Crying intensified the nausea, and every time Garrett passed by me, his expression became more and more grim.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go,” he finally said, coming to sit beside me on the bed. “You look terrible.”

  “No! I have to go. I owe him that much, Garrett. No matter who he was at the end, he was my friend for longer.”

  “Okay,” he said softly, acquiescing to my demand.

  The night passed without further incident, and my stomach was settled as we drove to the airport in Santa Rosa. This calm lasted until we boarded the flight. Once we were airborne, I reached for the paper barf bag and held it ready.

  “Do you want some crackers?” one of the flight attendants asked.

  I shook my head. “No thank you,” I croaked. “Just some ice water.”

  Garrett held my hand and rubbed light circles on my back while I sipped the water. Thankfully the flight up to Seattle was short and so was the drive from the airport to Gig Harbor. The only difference was Garrett stopped at the first grocery store we saw for fresh lemons. The scent instantly calmed and soothed me.

  “I’m excited to see Jackson,” I said as we entered the outskirts of Tacoma.

  “Me too. I’ve been so busy with the vineyard that I haven’t had much free time to call him.” Garrett drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as we drove across the Narrows Bridge to the hotel where we were staying for the next few days.

  As soon as we checked in, Garrett demanded that I rest. When I protested, he stood firm until I sat down on the bed with a pout.

  “I’m sorry, Cami. You can be mad at me all you want, but you and this baby are the most important things to me right now.”

  I scooted backward along the bed, and Garrett covered me with the top sheet. “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “To help the Graysons with some of the arrangements. I won’t be long. I promise.” Garrett leaned over me and brushed his lips across mine before leaving. Eventually, I gave into the exhaustion and turned on my side to fall asleep.

  The next few days, Garrett shielded me from as much as he could and as much as I allowed. My mom came down from Orcas Island, and Valerie was visiting friends in Seattle before heading back to Paris, so they helped Garrett keep me busy and distracted.

  The night of the wake, Garrett let me remain at the funeral home for only an hour before he asked Valerie to take me back to the hotel.

  “Garrett, the Graysons were like second parents to me,” I told him. “I should be here for them.”

  “You’ve already been to the bathroom a half-dozen times to throw up, Cami. Go back to the hotel and rest because tomorrow will be even worse.”

  “He’s right, sweetheart,” Lucinda Grayson said, coming up next to Garrett. “We’re glad you could make it, but you’ve got to think about that little baby growing inside you.”

  She tilted her head to the side and gave me a sympathetic smile before reaching into her purse. She pulled out a thick, cream envelope and handed it to me. My name was scrawled across the front in Palmer’s familiar sloping script. “He left this for you.”

  I took the envelope from her with trembling fingers and tucked it into my own bag. I gave her a hug and then left.

  “Are you sure about tomorrow?” Valerie asked sincerely. She glanced over at me with a furrowed brow.

  “It doesn’t matter if I’m sure or not, Val. I have to be there.”

  All I could think about since Garrett told me about Palmer’s death were the memories we had shared together. Bonfires on the beach. Kayaking in the bay. Shucking oysters in the winter. He’d stepped in as my prom date when mine bailed at the last minute. So much of my life was wound up in his and now that he was gone, it felt like a part of me was gone too.

  “Do you want me to stay?” Val asked when we returned to the hotel room.

  “No, I’ll be fine.” Our room had a mini-fridge that Garrett cranked to the coldest setting, and there was lemon water waiting for me to help settle my queasy stomach.

  She scrutinized me for a minute before giving me a tight hug and leaving. When she was gone, I pulled the cream envelope from my bag and sat down on the bed. It felt heavy in my hands; these were Palmer’s last words to me.

  Slowly, I peeled the envelope open and removed the sheet of paper folded inside. I took a few deep, calming breaths before allowing myself to read the words written on the page.

  Cami -

  There are many things I regret but hurting you is the biggest regret I now carry to my grave. You were the love of my life, and I only wanted to be worthy of you. I hope one day you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. - Palmer

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Garrett

  At the end of the wake, after everyone had left, I stood next to Tim and Lucinda as the casket closed over their son. This was their last chance to see Palmer, their last moments with him, and I was honored they let me be a part of these moments. Lucinda sobbed quietly while Tim and I held her up, our arms around her. It was so hard for her to understand why Palmer could do something so horrific, but his secrets had been too heavy to bear.

  “Can I have a moment?” I asked them, my voice cracking with emotion. For the past few days, I played the part they needed. Strong and stoic. But now I needed a moment to break.

  Tim patted me solidly on the back before he led Lucinda to the front of the funeral home.

  “Why didn’t you open your mouth?” I choked out. “Why did you let the pain swallow you up instead of getting help? This isn’t fair, you coward.”

  I set my fist firmly on top of his flag-draped casket, letting tears pool in my eyes. Coward. That was my first reaction; it was what I just called him, but it wasn’t the truth. Palmer was incredibly strong to live with so many demons and ghosts tormenting him daily. I leaned over the casket, bracing myself on my forearms as the tears finally fell. Before he became my enemy, he was my brother and my best friend; I trusted him with my life more time
s than I could count, and now he was gone.

  “You should have gotten help,” I said softly through gritted teeth.

  I saluted him one last time before turning to leave the room. The Graysons were still waiting, and before I left, Lucinda handed me an envelope just like the one she gave Cami. I kissed her cheek and shook Tim’s hand before leaving the funeral home. Tomorrow would be a long and difficult day, and I needed to take care of my girl. I tucked the envelope inside my suit jacket and headed back to the hotel.

  Cami was curled up in the middle of the bed, one pillow tucked between her legs and another clutched in her arms — a recently acquired habit. When we checked in, I requested extra pillows to accommodate her need. I undressed carefully, placing my suit jacket on a hanger in the closet and draping the trousers on a chair. My white dress shirt and tie followed before I slipped into bed next to Cami in only my underwear. She stirred momentarily, her body instantly recognizing mine, before she settled back against me. With my hand resting on the gentle curve of her hip, I succumbed to the exhaustion of the past few days.

  I woke before Cami and took my time getting ready. I hadn’t worn my dress blues in a long time, but every item was put on with great care. Cami woke up slowly, but when she noticed me, a soft gasp escaped her lips.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, turning to face her.

  “I’ve never seen you wear that before,” she said. Tears swam in her eyes as her bottom lip trembled. “I thought the first time I would see you wear your dress blues was on our wedding day.”

  I moved to sit next to her on the bed and took her hand in mine. “I know you did. I’m sorry, but I have to honor him.”

  “I know,” she sobbed gently.