by Kate Stewart
“Okay,” he said, biting his lip.
“Okay, so, shit.” A tear fell, and before I could wipe it away, he leaned in and took it with his lips as my heart swelled.
“I feel like before I met you, I was treading water and . . . God, am I making any sense right now?”
“Perfect sense,” he said softly.
“It’s not just running, Cameron. It’s us too.”
“I feel the same, more than I can explain. More than you could ever know.” He searched my eyes. “Why couldn’t I have met you ten years ago?” he added, taking me by surprise. “What were you doing when you were twenty-three, Abbie?”
“College, then work—so much work. I worked too hard.”
“Same here. I can’t say I did one significant thing in my life then, besides becoming a coach. And seeing your face right now is such a high. I love watching it happen. You thank me, but you are the one who did all the hard work.”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t get it. I gave up. Without you, I wouldn’t have given running a second thought again. I never thought I could be that woman. This woman. It seems simplistic, but it’s anything but for me. Running has been my Achilles heel my whole life. My whole life,” I said as my chin wobbled and more tears threatened. “So, thank you.”
“This,” he said softly. “This right here is why I do it. The look on your face. I love pushing people past what they think they can handle, past what they think they’re capable of. As your boyfriend, I think you’re getting good at it, and I’m proud of you. But as your coach, I can’t wait to see where you go with it next.”
“You really love it, don’t you? Being a coach.”
“Yeah. I do. It’s everything to me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I ventured out into something different with the stores. Coaching part-time at a private school doesn’t pay much, but coaching has always been my dream.”
“Not to play professionally?”
“No. I mean, I guess it could have been, but it was training that appealed to me more. I like the tactics of it. And I got lucky with a lot of my coaches. I had one in high school, Coach Bryant. He was a mentor. I had so much respect for him and for the way he spoke to people. He would lose his shit, like any other man passionate about the game, but he always had this dignity about him. An air about him that seemed unfit for modern society. You didn’t fuck with him, no one really did. He was damn good at his job. I kind of aspired to be just like him.”
“What makes you think you aren’t?”
Cameron shook his head. “I could never be him.”
“How do you know?”
“Life told me so.” His face darkened briefly and then it was gone. I should have pressed him for more at that moment. I could have told him he exuded all of those qualities in droves. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him so, but instead, I showed him by letting him grab my gloved hand and lead me through the trees.
“Shit!” Cameron exclaimed from the porch just as I emerged from the bedroom, freshly showered. I slid open the glass door and saw the grill was covered in flames.
“Oh shit!” I said as he tried to slap them out with his iron spatula. “What do you need?”
“A do-over,” he said with a laugh as he shut the lid to suffocate the fire then turned the gas off. When he opened it back up, the chicken was black. He stabbed the burned meat with a large fork and held it toward me. “Dinner is ready,” he announced.
I wrinkled my nose. “I think I’ll pass. I saw some things in the cabinet. I’ve got dinner covered.”
“You deem this unfit for consumption, woman?!”
I kissed his cheek. “You don’t have to do all the cooking. I can earn my keep. Give me half an hour.”
“Okay, but you’re missing out.”
My mother was an amazing cook. She could take anything in the cabinets and turn it into a king’s feast in a matter of minutes. My skills were subpar at best. I never really took the time to watch and learn from her. But I was sure I could muster up something more edible than charred chicken. After five minutes of studying the cabinets, I decided to send out an SOS and call my mom while Cameron sat in the living room watching soccer.
“Mom, I need your help,” I said in a whisper once she answered.
“What’s wrong, honey? You didn’t answer last night when I called.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’m with someone.”
“Oh?” she asked.
“Long story short, we’ve been seeing each other for a while now. He’s amazing, and I’ll tell you all about him soon, but I need some cooking advice.”
“Okay, step back and walk away.”
“Not funny,” I said with a hand on my hip she couldn’t see.
“I think it is,” she said with a light laugh. “Take your hand off your hip, brat. I’ll help you.”
“We aren’t in the position to get to the store, and this place is stocked with everything, but I can’t think of a single thing to make.”
“Okay, give me the run down.”
I listed off everything in the cabinets, fridge, and freezer.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I don’t want him to think I can’t cook.”
“You can’t cook. I bet you wish you would have helped in the kitchen more rather than whined.”
“Mom, I’m glad you think this is funny, but I really, really like him. Okay?”
“Why haven’t I heard about him before now?”
“Because I wasn’t sure, and parents don’t need to know every hit or miss of their daughter’s dating life. Don’t be hurt. I wanted to make sure it was something before I told you. So, will you help me?”
“Sure, you can bring him to dinner next week.”
“No way. Too soon.”
“But we are negotiating,” she said with a playful lift.
“No, we’re not. Mom. Help me, okay? I don’t have time to look up recipes and I kind of want to impress him,” I whispered.
“Does this man have a name?”
“For you? Not yet.”
“Fine, but I want dinner with you. Next week.”
“Done,” I gritted out. “And I would have come anyway.”
“I’ll text you a recipe.”
“Thanks, Mom. I love you.”
“And, Abbie?”
“Yeah?” I whispered as I looked back at Cameron, who was sitting on the edge of the couch, his eyes fixed on the TV. I briefly daydreamed about a future where getaways became our ritual.
“If all else fails, add more butter.”
“Okay.”
More minutes than my promised half hour later, I had my mother’s creamy rosemary chicken on a bed of pasta and a tossed salad on the table. I was happy with the execution, and Cameron seemed to be as well as he closed his eyes with his first bite.
“This is incredible.”
“Thank you,” I boasted as he inhaled a mouthful of pasta.
“So, I think it’s time you had me over for dinner,” he said with a wink.
“Do you?” I said in a slight panic. I could have Mrs. Zingaro give me her recipe for ziti. That would buy me a week.
Cameron’s next words cut through my thoughts. “How is your mother?”
“She’s fi—” I deadpanned. “You’re an ass, you know that? And how could you have possibly heard that conversation?”
“You get good picking it up being a high school coach. And, Abbie,” he said around a mouthful of garlic toast, “it’s good to know you really, really like me.”
My face flamed as he devoured the chicken on his plate and forked another piece out of the cast iron skillet. I stood from the table to get the bottle of wine. He circled my waist with his arm and pulled me onto his waiting lap.
“Where are you going?”
“To get some wine. Want some?” I asked as he moved my hair away from my shoulder and rested his chin on my neck.
“Nope.” He twisted his fork, gaining a bite of pasta and brought it to
my mouth. I opened and took it, chewing as he repeated the motion. “I have a plate of my own, Coach.”
“Yeah,” he said, moving his free hand underneath my borrowed flannel before trailing lazy fingers along my stomach. “But I’m not finished wooing.”
“Back to reality,” I said, mourning the end of our long weekend as Cameron closed the door to the cabin. We’d spent every second in bed that morning until we had no choice but to clean up and head out. My heart was sinking at the loss of it.
He gripped me in his strong embrace. “Okay, so this isn’t our every day,” he said, commanding my eyes, “but there will be plenty of this in our future for as long as you want it.”
I kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Consider that my RSVP. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ll miss the woods.”
“We’ll be back. This isn’t the last time, okay?”
“Okay.” You are ridiculous, Abbie.
He placed a gentle kiss on my forehead and led me down the steps, his duffle bag in hand as I took one last look at the cabin. We’d played house for a weekend and it was more than nice. It was heaven.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he opened the passenger side door and I climbed into the Audi.
“Just that I’m glad we waited. And now I’m glad we’ve stopped waiting.”
I clicked my seatbelt.
His hands rested on either side of the doorframe. “It was hell not being able to touch you, but I wouldn’t change a thing.”
When I was comfortable, he closed the door and walked in front of the hood as I dreaded the empty house waiting for me.
We sat in the idling SUV for a moment longer before Cameron placed his hand on my headrest and twisted his body for a clear view to exit the driveway. While the scent of his cologne and his proximity knocked me senseless, I pressed my lips to his Adam’s apple and kept them there. He stopped the truck at the edge of the driveway, put it in park, and stared at me long and hard before he spoke.
“I know something happened. Something that you don’t want to tell me about yet. It’s painfully obvious, but I want you to know this is not over between us, not by a longshot.”
“I know.”
He leaned over. “Are you sure? Because I get the feeling you aren’t.”
“I’m sorry I make you feel that way.” I sank into my seat, hating the fact that I needed so much reassurance. But he’d been consistent every step of the way. I had no reason to doubt him. I averted my eyes, my heart pounding.
“Look at me,” he whispered. “I’m with you.”
I couldn’t help but remember Bree declaring her and Anthony were on another level in Scotland. It rang true for Cameron and me as I looked into his earnest eyes.
He took my hand and pressed it to his chest before he leaned in and took my lips. His kiss was slow, thorough, and I “hmmed” happily and smiled as he pulled away.
“You’re an excellent coach.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” Cameron said as I sat at my mother’s kitchen table, looking at him on my screen.
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I said as I stood to make my way upstairs to my old bedroom for some privacy. I’d asked Cameron to come with me to Naperville, but he wanted to be with his dad despite how heavy it felt in the house without his mother there.
I wasn’t one to neglect family and friends due to a new boyfriend. It was one of my new life rules, no matter how perfect said boyfriend was. When you accidentally date a sociopath, you learn your lesson about things like that. Luke was constantly making me break plans with Bree and my family to manipulate my time, manipulate me.
No matter how happy I was being a part of a we with Cameron, I made time for Bree and my parents, even if the relationship was by far the healthiest of my adult life.
But I had to admit, the man smiling at me on the screen made it extremely hard to be without him. I’d grown used to waking up roasting with his arm thrown over me.
Spending Saturdays watching him battle Max on the court before we used up the rest of the day roaming the city or Wicker Park. When weather permitted, we ran every morning, and when it didn’t, we made up for it in my bedroom. I was up to three miles per day and it was beginning to show. I was in the best shape of my life.
Cameron was most definitely a good-time guy. There was rarely a dull moment. Even quiet nights at home, which we mostly spent with Mrs. Zingaro, were blissful.
I closed my door and plopped myself on my old bed.
“How is it going over there?” I asked.
“Awkward and fucking lonely. I hate this. I don’t know what to do. It’s like he stopped living when my mother did. We already had a damned communication problem.”
“All you can do is try to talk to him,” I offered. “You know Mrs. Zingaro was the same with me for a little while. She was kind of stand-offish when we first met. I know it’s not the same thing, but you can’t get to know him if all you are is polite. It might have backfired for me a little, but I can’t say she isn’t worth it. Talk to him, really try to talk to him.”
“I’ll try,” he said softly.
“Talk about your mom. He might be hesitant at first, and maybe that’s his way, but it couldn’t hurt.”
“I will.”
“Promise?” I asked. It was the only one I’d ever asked for. I hated the guilt and the pain that covered his features, so I was selfish with my request, but I saw it more often than I wanted to. Even though they weren’t close as father and son, I knew Cameron longed for it.
I saw his hesitance and apologized. “I’m sorry, it’s not my place to ask for that.”
“I promise,” Cameron said. “And it is your place. You can ask me for anything, Abbie. I mean that.”
My heart galloped. It was so obvious we were more than coffee. I was having a horrible time not verbalizing how I felt every time I looked at him. We were still new, and patience had gone a long way for us. I was fine with waiting.
“So, what’s on the menu at the Bledsoe house?”
“I’m going to burn a turkey,” he said with a grin.
“Sounds delicious.”
“And you?”
“I doubt we’ll eat until later. Oliver won’t show up until he feels like it, so we have to wait for his highness to arrive.”
“His highness is here, punk,” Oliver spouted as he walked into my bedroom. “Who are you talking to?”
I gave Cameron wide eyes. “Busted,” he said from the screen.
“None of your business,” I said as my brother plopped onto my bed beside me.
Cameron looked at Oliver and gave him the man nod. “Hey, man.”
Oliver looked at me. “Who’s this?”
“This is my boyfriend, Cameron.”
“Same one?” I was going to kill him.
“Bledsoe, nice to meet you,” Cameron added.
“I haven’t heard anything about you,” Oliver said, barely glancing at the screen.
“Abbie likes to keep me a secret,” Cameron retorted without missing a beat. “But I think I’m her only boyfriend. I think it’s safe to say one and the same.”
“You are,” I chimed in, pledging my allegiance.
“You don’t say,” Oliver said, leaning back on my pillow before tossing a piece of croissant in his mouth.
My brother and I looked a lot alike, except he had my father’s curly blond hair, which he cropped off shorter and shorter as he got older. We had the same mouth and eyes.
“Cameron, this is my brother, Dr. Dick.”
Oliver rolled his eyes before he pressed my head down with his palm, making it look like we were playing an abusive version of Duck, Duck, Goose. I slapped at his wrist as he lifted the tip of my nose, giving me a pig face, before he palmed it, twisting my features in a free for all. I struggled with Oliver as Cameron’s laughter rang out of my phone.
“Damn you, act your age, idiot,” I fumed as I dropped the phone and landed two solid punches to Oliver’s arm. He “oofed” with a chuckle.
Retrieving my phone, I pointed at the door then righted myself and the phone so I could see Cameron as my face flamed.
Oliver walked out of the room with a “Later, Cameron.”
“Later, man,” Cameron answered as I put my attention back on him with no dignity intact. “He’s such a shit.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“The man is a thirty-five-year-old toddler.”
“He seems like a lot of fun.”
“He’s a dick. Enough about my brother, I miss you.” God, I was so gone. I waggled my brows. “All of me misses you.”
“I’ll be at your door the minute you get home. And next Thanksgiving,” Cameron added, melancholy, “we spend together. Okay? I feel like we’re teenagers sneaking around.”
“Okay.”
Heart overflowing, I twisted the new gold bracelet on my wrist. An early Christmas gift Cameron gave me before I left for my parents’ house.
“I love my bracelet.”
Cameron grinned. “It’s engraved. I was waiting for you to notice but you didn’t.”
I snapped it off and peered inside. It read: You’ve bewitched me body and soul.
It was a quote from Pride and Prejudice. My eyes glistened with happy tears.
“Now I love it even more. What do you want for Christmas?”
Cameron’s eyes closed briefly. “I’d say Santa came through early this year. I got what I wanted a few months ago.”
“Oh, and what’s that?”
“I’m looking at her.”
My eyes watered as he leaned into the phone, his eyes filled with affection. “Abbie—”
“Hey, Jezebel!” Oliver called from the top of the stairs. “You think you can ditch the new boy toy long enough to help Mom in the kitchen so we can eat today?”
I glared in my brother’s direction as Cameron chuckled. “Are your hands broken?”
I rolled my eyes and looked on at Cameron. “I’m sorry.”